[ Small notions start to fall into place, to piece themselves together and speak the same language, when before they had been slightly discordant, earnestly communicative but not fully understood. Tommy’s eyes widen a fraction as he absorbs.
So it’s much more than demons, and hunters, or even angels and gods. It’s Neverland, and wilderness; a trackless way into some Other Place. Some world where Mark has maybe left a foot, or a memory, or a perhaps a very real piece of his heart. A life that Tommy seems to remind him of, offering up an altered version of what he knew.
Yet it’s simpler than all of that too, of course. ]
…Boy.
[ Tommy’s lashes lower while he studies their entwined fingers, wondering if this is what it feels like to touch another galaxy. They are not serenely or even sweetly holding hands. There is a whole world hidden in their joined palms. They are explorers, now.
They are Lost Boys, together.
Slowly, he lifts his other hand to graze fingertips across the high slope of Mark’s cheek; he holds it there. Empathy. Acceptance. ]
no subject
[ Small notions start to fall into place, to piece themselves together and speak the same language, when before they had been slightly discordant, earnestly communicative but not fully understood. Tommy’s eyes widen a fraction as he absorbs.
So it’s much more than demons, and hunters, or even angels and gods. It’s Neverland, and wilderness; a trackless way into some Other Place. Some world where Mark has maybe left a foot, or a memory, or a perhaps a very real piece of his heart. A life that Tommy seems to remind him of, offering up an altered version of what he knew.
Yet it’s simpler than all of that too, of course. ]
…Boy.
[ Tommy’s lashes lower while he studies their entwined fingers, wondering if this is what it feels like to touch another galaxy. They are not serenely or even sweetly holding hands. There is a whole world hidden in their joined palms. They are explorers, now.
They are Lost Boys, together.
Slowly, he lifts his other hand to graze fingertips across the high slope of Mark’s cheek; he holds it there. Empathy. Acceptance. ]
You’re welcome.