✦ inbox.

[ruevealing]

inbox

voice ✦ video ✦ text ✦ action

code // art

Comments

[ruevealing]

Well! That's quite the twist, isn't it?

It's only due to thousands years of practice that Rue can hide the rush the relief they so suddenly feel. They were so worried for a moment, afraid that it had been Jeff instead who - Ah, but relieved or not, the problem still persists. This old flame of Tim's is here in Gloucester, slammed so abruptly back into his messy life.

"Sometimes change is not as great as people think of it. Sometimes it is the smallest measures of growth that others perceive. I feel even I have changed in small, subtle ways since meeting you."

For the better, Rue thinks. Rue hopes. When Tim tips his head to look up at them, they reach a paw out to gently brush the hair from his eyes with their talons, expression as soft and warm and curious as ever. He has their complete attention.

"But she's here, you say." Rue will not ask whom he means. If Tim wants to reveal that to them, they are certain he will. "And you are worried." Their head tips to the side, thoughtfully considering. They are trying to make sense of the pieces Tim is leaving out. "Are you afraid you may slip into old habits around her? Because of the familiarity there?"

[ployboy]

I feel even I have changed, they say, and Tim's heart picks up the pace in anticipation of what burden he gave them. Instead of hearing that, though, Tim is left with a smug look of contentment and he quips, "What, you learned that not all humans should be allowed near microwaves?"

There's been plenty of ramen noodle cup incidents and no he's not sorry about any of them.

With that brief attempt at levity, Tim can't bear to return to... his thoughts. Can't voice them, he means. He's cowardly like that. And he knows it.

So when Rue suggests his fears are about habits and history, he shakes his head. Does that thing where he drops the small smile but has his expression remain open. No, that's not it.

His habits aren't going anywhere.

The guilt he feels when meeting Rue's eyes is going to literally kill him, so Tim tears off the bandaid and squeaks that, "Uh, actually. I have a confession to make."

Welcome to the world of a boy who massively fucking failed Communication 101.

[ruevealing]

Rue matches Tim's smugness with a gentle, teasing clack of their beak, smiling too brightly for their scold to be anything but playful. "I did not even know that machine could catch fire! That experience alone was enough to change someone, believe me. I will never look at those noodle cups the same way again. I had to ban Hob from ever bringing them into the apartment!"

But then the tone shifts for reasons Rue can not even begin to comprehend, but they feel it, how even the weight of the boy leaning against them changes, his expression so open and true and raw. Such seriousness, such melancholy, it makes Tim look so much younger than he already is.

It takes all of their restraint to not draw him into their arms for a hug.

"You can tell me, Tim." A confession, he says, though Rue can not imagine a single thing he would need to address with them. "Anything you say will be safe with me. It will stay here, just between us. You have my word."

[ployboy]

He laughs a little laugh and thinks about saying that there goes his Amazon gift delivery for a box full of Takis infused noodly goodness.

"It's about the necklace I gave you," he ventures. There's nothing dire or heated or cool in his voice. Tim debates giving a whole backstory worth of context, like Rue had just done for him. But, again, he's no good at words meant to communicate sentiments. Sometimes he wonders if he really did do his teachers a favor by dropping out of high school. Then he thinks, damn, isn't it weird to be thinking about high school when he's nearly 20?

Tim feels another angry tug at his nerves by Guilt, the guilt this time so unrelated to Steph or Jeff or... Rue, that it's dizzying. Yeah. He definitely is no good at Talking.

"I told you I had thought about what my mother would have wanted, right?"

He's also clearly no good at being a son, unless someone fancies him a son of a bitch, then Tim figures he fits the bill. He pulls away from Rue to sit himself up straight, the straight-back and hands-on-lap way that's proper or whatever. As with any... confessional, he lowers his eyes. "I guess I just wanted you to think it was special somehow. You don't really have much in common with her."

Like, yeah, he should feel bad. But consider:

"I think I really like you better."

[ruevealing]

Tim mentions the necklace and Rue barely thinks before their free paw is touching to where it is hidden beneath the neckline of their dress, buried safely against feathers. That, along with the delicate peony clip from Hob, are the two things they try to incorporate into their everyday outfits. Such perfect, meaningful gifts, the best ones Rue has ever received.

So what about such a darling gift does Tim possibly need to make a confession for?

But Rue has all the patience one might expect from an ageless being, quietly waiting for Tim to sort through his own swirling, guilty, complicated thoughts, to sit up and make himself all proper for this big announcement. Rue's only response is the warmth of their encouraging smile, silently reassuring him to move at his own pace.

The mention of Tim's mother - again, how many comparisons does that make between them now - doesn't make sense until it finally does, when Tim lays it all out plainly. But even then, Rue struggles beneath the weight of the boy's words for once, reeling at the sheer rush of emotion it leaves behind. To be compared to a mother is one thing, but to be liked - loved? - more than one's own parents, Rue thinks that must be so much more profound.

"Tim."

It can not be a surprise that Rue draws Tim in for a hug, a tight, trembly embrace, where the boy is pressed in close enough within their wings to feel their great, pounding heartbeat.

"You had me so worried that something was wrong. Or that I had offended you. But instead you bring me another perfect gift. Thank you, dearest, I - I must confess, I hardly know what to say, only that I feel just as strongly about you. To have both Hob and you as my family, I can not think of a greater gift."