#this is SO PRECIOUS i adore it so much!! gfnhjaognhjao

[jackdup]

Stargazing with Timothy for the first time has been one of the most peaceful experiences that Micah rarely receives nowadays. It’s lovely being able to find a time to find only ease, now being when they were having exchanges about themselves and Micah would ramble about the outer space while Timothy would listen attentively. Then there’s a certain point when he complimented xyr freckles. ( His kind words still linger at the back of Micah’s mind, xyr cheeks burning occasionally the longer xe dwells over the compliments. )

The moon reaches at the highest in another hour later. Usually, Micah wouldn’t feel as drained even at this time from insomnia, although after a long day and the deep comfort xe feels from being with Timothy, the lulling sense of serenity brings xem to a sleepy state, not realizing that xyr arm is slowly meeting against Timothy’s side. Micah blinks tiredly at the warm contact and finds xe’s touching him. Part of xem should be alarmed, knowing how restless Timothy can be with physical contacts, but the exhaustion is falling deeper in xem to be as responsive.

“S-sorry, Timostar,” Micah mumbles, yawning. Xe plans to move away from Timothy to respect his space, but xe realizes how deeply touch starved xe is when xyr heart sinks at the thought of moving. Micah glances up at Timothy, xyr gaze all gentle. “Um, actually, is it okay if I can lean on you for a bit before we call it for the night?” xe asks quietly, fiddling with xyr hands, “From tonight, you just make me feel very safe and comfy...” It is a soft given honesty that makes Micah see just how much Timothy matters to xem. ( He is the stars that the moon cares and cherishes forever. )

@solarisgod || and thus i die (´•̥̥̥ ‸ •̥̥̥`✿)

Listen, folks . . . Micah's not the only one still reeling after an unexpected compliment.

Big shocker, right? You tell a guy he looks nice, great. You tell him his smile is . . . what was it, lovely—? Awesome. You tell that same guy already down for the count from the positive attention not to lose his light, because apparently it fits him . . . for some freakin' reason? Yeah, okay: Timothy didn't take Micah for a violent type, but he was really beginning to think they were doing their best to destroy him. In, like . . . a weirdly . . . good way? Does that make sen— No, it probably doesn't. Whatevs. The real point here is that at least both of them are dealing with some semblance of a recovery period after that, not that Timothy really understands why Micah needs it.

Didn't most people tell them things like that? He had a hard time believing he was anywhere near the first, and if he was, he wanted to very badly grab everyone who ever interacted with Micah by the shoulders and just shake them like Are you blind?! (Unless they . . . literally were blind, and then, hey, okay, free pass, but—)

They were silent after some time, still keeping their eyes on the sky, on the stars winking almost cheekily down at them. Timmy hadn't been oblivious to the gradual weight falling against him, starting with that tiny brush of an arm that solidified and became heavier as Micah sunk further down. He's not bothered. Not even slightly. If he was asked to describe the feeling, he'd not really know the right word, but honestly . . . It's nice. It's nice that they trust him enough to let their guard down, to let themselves relax without any reservations, and Timothy decides somewhere in there to remain as still as possible: to not disturb them.

Until, ya know, they catch themselves like some idiot falling asleep on the job—or in a less safe environment—and quickly apologize—

“Ah-tut-tut—!” he interrupts their drowsy words in the space of that breath, no hesitation. “Hey, no, you don't . . . have anything to be sorry about. What are you—? No, it's cool. I mean, it's—” Tim picks up on the slurred speech, on the confession of what his presence does for them. Which, okay, yeah, he probably could have connected those dots himself, but actually hearing them say it is . . . yeah, we're just gonna keep going with that “nice.”

He shuffles, finally. Now that they're awake enough he won't fully bother them. Timothy adjusts his position equally for his own comfort and theirs, moving just slightly enough that his arm is now behind Micah, and their weight can fall against his side. “Sure, I . . . Yeah.” He pauses, thoughtful, then: “Guess you could say we have that in common. I'm glad.”