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Despite what people thought, crushes weren’t easy for Tim. He doesn’t mean to flirt most of the time.
It turned out that giving people lots of compliments about their appearance and personality meant that you’re into them. For Tim, it was never that cut and dried. He projected confidence on the outside and hid his complicated feelings on the inside. Staying focused on the bravado of his performance helped to distract both his audience and himself from his inner turmoil. He planned to keep up this distraction while he sorted out the inner workings of his own heart, but by the time he came to a conclusion about his feelings, the other party was already gone.
It’s gotten him into a lot of trouble in the past. The most notable instance was with Sasha. Both of them had moved too fast, misinterpreted each other's signals, and had to sit in the discomfort of their regrets when morning came. They both resolved to put it aside for the sake of their friendship, but Tim was pretty sure that Sasha was the only one who moved on. He still found himself remembering little parts of Sasha in everyday things. He noticed the small details of Sasha that others might have missed; like how Sasha would tap her middle finger to her thumb when she needed to focus, her impulse to bite down on her ice cream (only when people were watching), how she smiled at him when she caught him staring for too long.
Yeah, Tim just had to accept it. He desperately wanted to be the love interest.
The worst part about all of this? Well, it couldn't be enough that he still had feelings for Sasha. No, he not only had feelings for his aromantic best friend/coworker, but also his boss/coworker and his coworker/best friend. But there was no way he’d tell any of them how he felt. He can’t!
That part of rejection that scared Tim wasn’t the knowledge that dating had become off-limits. Sasha, Jon, and Martin were the best friends that he ever had, and there'll always be the possibility that rejection would cause one or more of them to feel uncomfortable with him. He couldn’t bear to profess his love, only to lose them as friends.
So he stayed quiet. Tim wholeheartedly believed that romance isn’t “the next level” of friendship. He loved spending time with them, and they loved it the same. Even Jon warmed up to Martin. When they first met each other, Jon tried to keep their interactions as minimal as he could. Warm and bubby persistence broke through in the end, and now they spent their lunches together, always seeking each other whenever one of them was late.
As their friendship grew, they spent more and more time with each other. It started when Sasha wrestled Jon away from work to help him relax. She gave the excuse that “leisure time with coworkers outside of office hours will increase your productivity” and “exposure to vitamin D will help you boost your serotonin levels and benefit your overall health.” Beach trips in the hot sun turned into shopping trips, where they made fun of rich people who sold overpriced suits. They eventually got to the point where they had frequent club nights. Oftentimes they submitted their karaoke requests too late and had to stay until one in the morning so Jon could belt out Rasputin. He refused to sing the innuendos and mumbled half of the song.
This time, the four of them decided to have a movie night.
Earlier that day, Sasha made an offhand reference to Kill Bill that flew over Jon’s head. It was to be expected; Jon was out of touch with pop culture and probably didn’t know what a meme is. After 10 minutes of badgering and bargaining, they planned a last-minute movie night at Tim’s place to watch the movie and enjoy Jon’s reaction.
Even though Tim knew that he bought the DVD a while ago, their impromptu plan meant that he had no idea where the DVD was or if he still had it. Some disks were in incorrect cases and some of them were completely empty. Martin offered to help him look, but even with the extra help, Tim couldn’t help his increasing agitation with every case he cracks open. It was like frantically scratching through a long reel of lottery tickets, hoping that one of them would win them a jackpot, but none of them got any reward for their efforts.
While the mad disk shuffle occurred at the other side of the living room, Jon and Sasha waited patiently for the grand prize. Sasha tested Jon’s pop culture knowledge, who was failing at every step. Tim tuned out their conversation for the most part, but their increasing volume gave Tim some insight as to what it was about. Jon was in the middle of an accusation. He suspected that Sasha lied about her joke being a Kill Bill reference, but was unsure of her motive. Of course, this argument wouldn't hold up well within the court of law.
‘That’s fair enough,’ Tim supposed. After all, Sasha pretended to be extremely knowledgeable about tarot for the first year they knew each other. She had everyone under her thumb, and they were none the wiser. She was only discovered when Jon researched tarot to support his friend’s interests. He learned a lot about the subject, but the biggest revelation of all was that Sasha’s real interests were in stringing along her friends in an elaborate mystic ruse.
Sasha clicked her tongue and looked down at Jon with the most smug face that Tim had ever seen her make. “Check the websites you get your info from, Jon. I’m the tarot queen .”
Jon rolled his eyes. “You told me that twelve of swords was an actual card. I’m fairly certain you don’t know anything about those blasted cards.”
Sasha raised her hand to her chest in a gesture of mock horror. “Not true! New cards are being invented all the time. And besides, I know everything about my patron card. Didn’t you see my tattoo?”
Their conversation became hard for Tim to ignore. He found himself listening in as he and Martin shuffled through the precarious pile of DVDs, the rhythm of the opening and closing of the cases mixed with their bickering.
Jon replied with a tut. “No such thing. Also, you told me last week that you only got that tattoo because you liked the illustration.” This was news to Tim. Sasha didn’t have the tattoo when they first met, but she had gotten it once she was deep into convincing the rest of the group that she was skilled in tarot readings. She had placed it right below the black and green arrow tattoo that had much more significance to her than any of her others. Tim thought that she at least had an idea of what some of the cards meant. The more he learned about Sasha, the more he realized that he doesn’t know as much about her as he thought he did. The mystery of who Sasha truly was kept pulling him back to her.
“The Wheel of Fortune means a lot to me and having it on my arm will help me get on the telly one day.” Sasha tried her hardest not to burst into laughter, but couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face.
Jon glared at her, unamused. “The only show you’ll get on is Paraside, with all the fake spiritual nonsense you spout.”
‘Wait a minute. Jon, knowing pop culture references? Wasn’t this whole mission to get him to watch a movie and get him more cultured?’ There is the possibility that it wasn’t a pop culture reference and was a reference to a book written in the early 20th century. You never know with this man. But Jon insisted on it and even promised to find a clip from the program to show Sasha.
Martin cast Tim a knowing smile. “Forget Kill Bill, I’ll make some popcorn.”
“We weren’t going to find it anyways.” Tim chuckled and got to his feet with a wince. Before following him, Martin made a futile attempt to straighten the tower of DVD cases that tilted precariously to the left. Then he strode to the kitchen with a level of confidence of a man who had lived here for years. It made sense, since they started living with each other.
Oh, no. Not in that way. Martin didn’t think of him like that.
A few months ago, when Martin moved in with Tim, they both agreed that it was an act of friendship and compassion. In Tim’s opinion, It was unfair for Martin to sleep in a cot in the archives when there was plenty of space in his house. He went as far as to insist that Martin didn’t have to pay any bills, since he still had to pay for the flat that Prentis tried to invade. Tim kept an offer open that Martin could use his bed if he wanted to, but Martin insisted that he didn’t have to worry about him, he could sleep on the sofa just fine.
The more time they stayed together, the more domestic Tim felt around Martin, cooking breakfast for the two of them like an old married couple. He loved it, and wanted more of that domesticity with Jon and Sasha too. But he couldn’t have that, and he'd have to swat away the butterflies in his stomach whenever he got them. If he indulged himself in those thoughts, then Martin might catch on to his feelings and become uncomfortable about the living arrangement.
But that didn’t happen. On the first night, Tim heard Martin scream. Over in the living room, Martin trembling and thrashing about wildly in his sleep, his bonnet thrown off in his hysteria. Tim ran over Martin, shaking him to try and wake him up, but nothing worked. It wasn’t until he shouted his name that Martin jolted awake, wide-eyed and sobbing. There was no way that Tim would let him sleep alone and insisted that Martin should sleep in his bed. With some reluctance, Martin accepted.
Tim quickly cleaned up his room in preparation for Martin’s stay while Martin watched, awkwardly adjusting his bonnet over his silk scarf. Once Martin climbed under the covers, Tim planned on leaving the bedroom to sleep on the sofa. As Tim was leading, Martin asked if he would turn off the hallway light before he got back into bed. Tim paused, having already prepared to sleep on the sofa that night. He assumed that was where he'd be, seeing as there wasn't any need to share.
There was only one conclusion. Martin had wanted Tim to be there with him as he slept. He couldn’t stop his heart from racing; reasoning with himself that it was strictly platonic did no good, so he took a different approach to it. Martin wouldn’t want to push him off of the bed and onto the sofa, and he would feel safer if he had someone there with him when he woke up. So Tim climbed back into bed with him and reassured him that he didn’t have to view this as romantic unless he wanted to. Strictly platonic!
Tim reminded himself of this every time that they woke up with their arms wrapped around each other and their legs tangled under the sheets. To others, their relationship looked like it might have developed into something less platonic. But it was just to keep Martin grounded, to help him feel safe. No additional reasons at all.
His reminiscing was interrupted when Sasha burst into hysterics. Tim saw Sasha doubled over in laughter, using Jon as a support so she didn’t fall. The sound made Tim’s heart ache. He wanted to be the one to make her laugh and smile as much as he loved seeing Martin and Jon make her laugh.
Tim joined Jon and Sasha to try and get the name of the show. It was hard to make out anything Sasha said through her fits of giggles, Jon intervened and stated plainly that it was The Limmy Show. When Tim was finding a good place to watch the show, Sasha claimed the far right of the sofa for herself while Jon settled himself into the space next to her. A whirring noise could be heard from the kitchen, which must mean that Martin got the popcorn popping machine out with the dried kernels and everything. Since when did Martin get to know his home so intimately, to the point where he seemed to know exactly where everything was?
Tim plopped himself down on the sofa to the left of Jon, while Sasha sat at the other end. The sound of the popcorn popper faded and the last of the kernels popped. Martin shut off the lights and made his way into the living room. He stopped himself at the edge of the sofa and peered at the remaining space.
“Tim, would you mind scooting over?” Martin asked softly. He lowered his volume as if he was in a movie theatre, where the dimming lights created an atmosphere that signified the start of the big show.
“Oh, sure thing!” Tim glanced over at Jon and Sasha, who began to scoot over to the right without needing to be asked. Tim was grateful that Jon was so small, otherwise they might not have been able to fit on the three-person sofa. When there was enough space for him, Martin sat down and they started the show.
It was a snug fit on the sofa, and Tim’s mind buzzed over the proximity he had to Martin and Jon; two very handsome men. Trying not to think too much about their warm bodies pressed up against his own, he presses play on the first episode.
It was easy to get comfortable between them once the show started. For one thing, the show picked up almost immediately with an introduction of nonverbal absurdist humour, the kind of comedy that Jon described as “BBC comedy back when the channel could produce anything decent”. It was the kind of humour that had Sasha, Tim, and Martin belting out laughter within the first 10 seconds.
Tim also found comfort in the happiness radiating from his three favourite people sitting right beside him. Though not all of the jokes landed, he could turn his head and watch Jon chuckle lightly, or Martin light-heartedly scolding Sasha when she tossed popcorn at the screen. He could smile along with them and in their joy.
He did have to watch himself after a while. Tim stared at Jon for much longer than he needed, basking in the rare moment where his soft, contented smile shined on his cheeks. It wasn't something you could easily look away from.
“Hm?” Jon tilted his head towards Tim, his expression still soft. Jon was getting less and less cautious about showing emotions again, and Tim relished in seeing him emerge from the shell he created for himself. He wanted to take him by his hands and lead him out into a beautiful world where he can be happy as himself.
Tim only responds with a dismissive wave of his hand, hoping that this nonchalant response brings them away from his social blunder. He wasn’t the type to blush or be embarrassed too easily, but he felt a warmth spread in his heart as he went back to watching the show.
The bowl of popcorn passes between them whenever there’s a lull in the comedy, but is held by Jon for most of the evening. Both Jon and Sasha reach into it at the same time, the popcorn sliding around in the bowl away from their hands as one giant mass. Their hands brush against each other briefly, the rings around the middle finger of their hands lining up with each other like the black and white pieces to a puzzle. Neither piece of the jigsaw connects, the puzzle pieces seeing the contrasting visuals of the part of the picture they belong to and not believing that they can still connect.
They sat, side by side, each with preconceived notions about the others, frozen in place by doubt. No one moved to sit closer; they've convinced themselves that it's impossible. Knowing what they mean to each other wasn't on their minds, everyone was too afraid to ask. None of them know how much they are all looking for each other, how they could be the pieces that fit together to form a beautiful picture.
If no one asks, then no one gets hurt. Right?
A request to turn down the volume was answered as if second nature, and they sank into the sofa with tired eyes and drooping heads. The night was finally winding down, though Tim felt as though it didn’t last as long as it could have. Sasha and Jon had to leave and head back to their own living quarter and Tim would have to separate himself from the comforting touch of Martin during both of their waking hours.
Beside him, Jon stifled a yawn in the way he normally did to avoid being impolite. He parted his lips slightly and took in a slow gulp of air through his chest, but his scrunched up eyes and puffed neck was a dead giveaway. It's effective in its own way- not as obvious as Sasha, who covered her mouth with her hand and made a noise as sweet as honey in her sleepiness. Jon’s second yawn was definitely inspired by Sasha’s.
Martin leaned over in his seat to get a better look at the two of them. “Getting sleepy?”
Jon nodded and rose to his feet, twisting his torso and stretching his back muscles from prolonged sitting. “It’s getting late, I should head back to my flat.”
Sasha waved her hand to get him to sit back down. “Oh come on, just one more episode!”
Jon glanced down at Sasha as if reconsidering, but shook his head. “That’s twenty minutes long, and I don’t want to stay here later than the tube runs.”
‘Also it would be more dangerous for him to travel later at night,’ Tim didn't add. As much as he would love for Jon to stay longer, it was for the best to let him go.
“Well, how about this-” Sasha stood up as well, taking advantage of the opportunity to stretch her legs while offering her proposal. “I’ll drive you back home. I can be your personal limousine.”
Tim made a tally on the internal scoreboard he had of the times that Sasha has been smarter than him. He was starting to lose track.
Jon accepted, and the other three gave a sleepy cheer. One more episode for them all, another precious 20 minutes that they could spend with each other. At this point Tim started stretching his legs along with the others while Martin put the empty popcorn bowl in the dishwasher. Tim showed Jon and Sasha the lever on the side of the sofa that allows one half of it to recline with a noisy spring. Their last episode together should be comfortable, after all.
They all sat back down and kicked up their feet on the newly reclined sofa. In their tired stupor, they didn’t pay much mind to how their hands rested on one another. The show played on, but Tim found himself paying attention to the show less and less. He kept thinking of the heaviness in his eyes and the thoughts of Jon and Sasha getting home safely. He knew he was nodding off to sleep, but he overestimated his ability to jolt himself back into consciousness if necessary. He’d just rest his eyes for a moment, and then he’d be able to wake up and say goodbye.
The last thing that Tim heard that night was the soft whisper of someone saying, “Look, I think he’s- Oh... He looks so sweet, I don’t want to…”
----
It was a bit jarring for Tim when he didn't entirely recognize where he woke up.
Not in a drunken way, but in a way where you woke up somewhere different and expected to find yourself within your own bed out of habit. Waking up on your sofa was normal enough, but it was a strange thing to wake up to two warm bodies nestled up against you as you slowly regained the memories of what brought you to this place.
Tim’s eyes opened up and he saw the dim light of the TV with a message that said, “Are you still watching?” He couldn't tell what the time was- he didn't have the heart to replace the analogue clocks that he had in this house growing up. Along with the family photos on the wall that he couldn’t bear to look at but couldn’t find the courage to pack away. There was the faint glow of the time from the oven’s digital clock, but he couldn’t make out the time from the angle he was sitting. Or more accurately, where his head was tilted atop of a fair amount of hair.
There was no doubt that it was Jon's hair. It was long, soft, and always looked like it would have the texture of a kitten's fur. He was never able to test this hypothesis ...until that moment, where he came to the delightful conclusion that he was right. Jon's head rested in the crook of Tim’s neck while he snored softly. Sasha was leaning against Jon in a similar fashion, but their height difference made it so her body was twisted at an awkward angle that Tim could only hope wouldn’t give her a sore neck in the morning. Maybe he’d give everyone a nice shoulder rub tomorrow morning.
Something twitched beside Tim. He lifted his head to see that Martin was leaning back on the sofa in a more comfortable position than the rest of them, thank goodness for that. His eyes darted around underneath his eyelids, accompanied by the occasional facial twitch, the same way that a puppy might chase after a ball or a squirrel in their dreams. Tim prays that Martin isn’t dreaming of worms.
Tim felt a twitch in his hand this time, although it didn't feel like it was from him. He nearly did a double-take when he saw Martin’s hand wrapped in his own. Their fingers were gently intertwined with each other, and Tim couldn't remember the point where he had wrapped his hand around Martin's.
He immediately felt guilty. Why did he keep doing this? This had become normal for him and Martin, albeit a bit awkward with neither of them acknowledged it by the time they both get out of bed. But this time he had roped Jon and Sasha into it as well. How would they react if they woke up curled up against each other, not knowing how the other felt about it? Would it play out like it did in his mind, where he rehearsed the worst-case scenario of them finding out about his feelings for them to prepare for the worst? Or…
Was the idea of them snuggling something they all wanted?
Tim tried his best to brush away this thought, but it was difficult to get rid of it now that it was there. He let himself indulge in the warm feeling it planted in his chest, if only for this moment. If only for tonight.
As slowly and gently as he could, Tim moved to sit up and positioned Jon’s head against the back of the sofa. Luckily, Jon was either a heavy sleeper or desperately needed some proper shut-eye.
Unfortunately, Martin looked like he would be a bit more difficult. Although it was fairly easy to untangle their fingers and pull his hand away, he would need to get off of the sofa without jostling the footrest that both of them used. And on top of that, Martin was a light sleeper.
Tim had to move carefully. The mechanism inside of the sofa only made a loud noise when folding and unfolding, and lowering it slightly wouldn’t cause a ruckus. However, Tim wasn’t sure how much he could move Martin’s legs without waking him up. He decided to place all of his trust in the idea that if he moved slowly enough, then it wouldn’t disturb him.
He leaned forward and shimmied one leg through the dividing part of the footrest, the worn-down fabric over the cushions parted way for his leg to fit through. His foot settled on the floor, and he positioned himself so that he could place his full weight on it. Then, he balanced himself on one leg to manoeuvre his other leg onto the floor in front of the footrest. Martin hasn't budged yet. He let out a sigh of relief as both feet touched the floor, and he felt like a secret agent that had just dodged halfway through a laser barrier.
His luck ran out when he lifted his other leg to completely free himself from the sofa. The scraping of his pants between the flap of fabric made a soft scraping noise and stirred Martin in his sleep. Tim froze, not daring to move any further lest he woke Martin completely. A minute passed and Tim glanced behind him to see Martin with his eyes closed shut. Tim assumed that he just shifted around in his sleep and removed his other foot from the clutches of the noisy sofa. Once free, he turned around to face the trio.
They were all still asleep, which was a huge relief. Though looking at Jon, Sasha, and Martin together, he couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart. There was a Tim shaped divot in the cushions and it just felt wrong to leave them there. But he was already up, so he might as well make use of it.
Tim kept silent, as much as he could manage, to complete his nighttime routine of getting into his pyjamas, brushing his teeth, putting in his retainer, and combing his hair to the best of his abilities. He entered the bedroom just to grab the lighter blanket on top of the comforter, but seeing the silk scarf and bonnet on Martin’s side of the bed made him hesitate. No, he wasn’t risking wrapping it around Martin’s head while he was still asleep. He decided to take it with him just in case Martin woke up in the middle of the night as well.
Martin, Jon, and Sasha were still asleep by the time he got back with the blanket, scarf, and bonnet. Tim gently placed Martin’s belongings on the arm of the sofa and gave it a soft pat before he moved to use the blanket. He started at the edge of the sofa, gently draping it over Sasha’s shoulders and Jon’s chest, and made sure that he covered both of their feet as well. He tried not to think about when he and Danny were still young, and his baby brother was small enough to bundle up in a blanket and carry him back to their bunk bed. The last night that Danny was alive, had draped his blanket around his stunned body. He wondered if the rest of them were free from that kind of trauma, the one that plagued his dreams every week at least.
He knew he would have that nightmare again. He was lucky that he didn't dream while he was snuggling with his friends.
Tim knew deep down that he wasn’t going back into his bed. The way he felt with them was so safe, so secure, and so comforting. Sure, his pyjamas and retainer would make them suspicious, but he didn’t want to think of that now. All he wanted to do was climb back onto the sofa and into their embrace.
Getting back onto the sofa without disturbing them would be more difficult than getting off of it. He tried to use the same method as before, but this time in reverse. Setting ready for bed made him groggy. It was more difficult to turn around balancing on one foot with the other foot in the air, all the while trying to gently lower his bum back into the same spot. It was less than graceful, so it was a miracle that Martin only shifted around when he got himself back into position.
He was just bringing the blanket over himself when he heard Martin mumble something. “My… Tim, you... you got my scarf? And my bonnet?” Tim stayed silent, not daring to say a word. He knew he had been caught, he had been too noisy and woke Martin from his peaceful slumber. If he didn’t finish draping the blanket around all four of them, Martin would go back to sleep.
But he continued, more conscious of what he was saying, and subsequently what Tim was doing. “You’re not going to sleep in your bed?” Martin turned and locked eyes with Tim. He was searching for an answer behind Tim’s posture, his frozen stance and the sudden chewing on the inside of his cheek. Tim knew it was a bad habit, and Martin knew all too well what it meant.
Tim’s voice was barely above a whisper, glancing back at Jon and Sasha. “It wouldn’t be fair now, would it?” Tim's hand gripped onto the edge of the blanket and rubbed it between his fingers. Keeping cool was something he was normally good at. Normally. “I wouldn’t want to be the only one sleeping in a bed, right?”
“...Right.” Martin dragged out the word as he whispered it. He continued to keep eye contact even after he finished. Tim attempted to give him a classic Stoker Smile™ but it was slanted and strained, to the point where all of its effectiveness was lost. It must have worked, because Martin broke eye contact and relaxed.
Tim was on alert for any shift or change in what Martin might be feeling, but he just continued his own nighttime routine. He took off his kippah and went through the process of wrapping up his hair and donning his bonnet. While Tim finished the motion of draping the blanket over himself, Martin met him halfway and wrapped the rest of the blanket over himself.
Amidst all of the shuffling, Tim felt a soft thump against pressure at his side and a light snort. Tim glanced over to his right, where he saw Jon and Sasha toppled further over onto each other like dominoes. Jon was now lying on his side with his face on Tim’s legs. His eyes were obscured by his long hair, draped over his eyes and clinging to his glasses. Tim didn’t try to resist the urge to tuck the hair behind his head and away from his eyes. He pulled his glasses off of where they were hooked around his ears and folded them together.
Jon’s eyes had stayed shut, still deep within sleep. His eyelashes were longer than he remembered. He would describe them as feather dusters but it would feel like an insult to his beauty. They curved upwards and away from his cheeks in a gentle arc, a golden ratio for a perfect face.
He knew that this couldn’t last, so he wanted to relish in it. How could it be that he could find himself here? He didn’t do anything to deserve it.
Tim couldn’t lean forward to place Jon’s glasses on top of the coffee table without disturbing the position that all of them settled into. Throwing the glasses on the table wasn’t an option, but considering it might scratch or break the lens, it wasn't a good option either. He opted to lay them on top of the blanket and hope for the best.
He was not prepared to see Martin lovingly staring at the two of them when he finally broke away.
Tim realized two things at that moment: He was really sappy when he was sleepy, and he should probably get better at hiding how he felt about others. But why was Martin looking at the two of them like that, with his head tilted and eyes shining in the dim light?
"What are we, Tim?" Martin asked, his voice was filled with affection and longing.
To be frank, Tim didn't know how to answer that. At that time they were all good friends who liked to hang out constantly and sometimes they end up snuggling in each other's arms, looking at each other longingly, and trying to make each other laugh just to hear the melody of each other's voice.
"Well, right now we're friends," Tim replied awkwardly, not entirely sure what the best way to approach the situation was. Any suggestion that he knew what he was talking about had been thrown out the window. Did it have to do with the retainer in his mouth? It must be having some effect on him, turning him into a bumbling idiot and bringing him back to his teen years.
The lovestruck look Martin held on his face slipped into something slightly annoyed, his eyes half lidded and brows furrowed. "...Tim-"
"I know, I know- I'm sorry," Tim interjects before Martin can say anything. The way he looked at him had set him off, already fearing any further reaction that could be interpreted as negative. But had to have this conversation at some point, so it might as well be now. "I really don't know how to say this without sounding like a… You know?" Tim waved his hands in a juggling motion, which really the point home.
"No, I don't know," Martin replied. He sat up slightly and turned his body to him, attentive towards whatever Tim was going to say next.
'Well, it's now or never,' Tim thought to himself. He regretted not writing a script and rehearsing it ahead of time.
"Well, I'm polyamorous. And-” Tim sighed, running his fingers through his curly hair. The right words were just out of his reach; he knew how this would end. “-you probably know where this is going now, don't you?" Tim stopped himself right after coming out to Martin. He hadn't told anyone before, and all of the stereotypes that people had for people like him ran through his mind. He avoided Martin's gaze, but his voice came out quiet and reassuring.
"No, go on- I mean, thank you." He paused. "For sharing that with me. It's not easy coming out, especially if you don't want the person to think less of you." He paused, then hastily added, "Which I don't- I don't think any less of you for it. For being polyamorous, I mean." Martin stopped himself before he started talking himself in circles. "Thank you, go on."
Tim risked a glance at Martin, who was listening attentively, leaning in and completely awake now. He felt safer knowing that Martin cared, but he looked away from him as he continued. He wasn't sure he had the courage to make this confession if he was looking anywhere near one of the men he fell in love with.
"I might have feelings for some people in this room." Tim slowed down his speech as he specified who they were. "Specifically Sasha, Jon-" He gathered the courage to look at Martin. "-and you."
He couldn't be certain about it, but in the dark lighting in the living room, Martin’s eyes were wide and quickly darting around Tim's face. It was a good guess to say that he was probably blushing.
"Three love confessions in a minute, huh.” Martin smiled. “Monogamous people could never ." Tim let out a breathless laugh, glad that it didn't go as badly as he thought. Martin continued, "But, uh, let's just say that I'm sort of in a similar situation?" His voice raised at the end, and Tim felt himself holding his breath. When it was clear that Martin was finished with what he was saying, Tim smiled audibly and spoke what they both knew.
"You fell for the Stoker charm?" Tim grinned, and was joyous to find Martin responding with a smile just as big.
"Yeah, maybe a little. And maybe I caught the Sims sickness too, heh! um…" Martin trailed off as he looked at the sleeping Sasha and Jon beside them. "It would probably be a good idea if we all talked about this in the morning, right?"
Tim hummed in agreement. Tim opened his hand as an invitation to Martin, who gladly accepted it. Their fingers fit together perfectly, and it was puzzling to think about how either of them could have thought that they couldn't make a beautiful picture together. "We need to stop dancing around the matter, anyways."