He's trying, Tim can tell by the strain in his voice that he's trying - trying to work this out, trying to figure out what's going on, but he has no idea, no idea at all, and Tim's terrified he is fucking terrified of what will happen of what is going to happen of what always happens - doesn't it? Doesn't it always happen?
Tim twists away, braces hands on the sill of the open square cut out from the wood that is, for all intents and purposes, this place's window. He surveys the surrounding area raggedly, again and again, just sit back down, Tim, there's nothing there.
Nothing but his uncertainty and his paranoia.
His completely justified paranoia.
"Don't worry about it," he says thickly, shoulders hunching, probably completely unconvincingly, then turns back around. He's not looking at corners. His breathing is - okay, so it's not normal but it's never been normal, and at least he's not hacking up a lung. He rasps out a noise, something meant to convey wry amusement or irony, and sweeps another hand through his hair.
"I'm not panicking," he says, a little too desperately to be meant as a reassurance for Yuri alone. "I'm not."
no subject
Tim twists away, braces hands on the sill of the open square cut out from the wood that is, for all intents and purposes, this place's window. He surveys the surrounding area raggedly, again and again, just sit back down, Tim, there's nothing there.
Nothing but his uncertainty and his paranoia.
His completely justified paranoia.
"Don't worry about it," he says thickly, shoulders hunching, probably completely unconvincingly, then turns back around. He's not looking at corners. His breathing is - okay, so it's not normal but it's never been normal, and at least he's not hacking up a lung. He rasps out a noise, something meant to convey wry amusement or irony, and sweeps another hand through his hair.
"I'm not panicking," he says, a little too desperately to be meant as a reassurance for Yuri alone. "I'm not."