[When Billy's hand rested on his arm, Teddy thought that he was going to pull him away. It would've made sense; he touched a rather intimate place, and if Billy was caught up on - on the fake, then he, he -

But he didn't move his arm. It's more like he kept it there, and for a moment, Teddy stares down at his fingers. More than anything, Teddy just wants to sweep Billy into his arms and kiss him and revel in the fact that he's alive, they're both alive, and Teddy'd missed him so much -

But he just... doesn't know anymore. He has no idea what Billy wants from him. Taller? Broader? Skinnier? Shorter? More silent, like the fake was?

God, he hasn't been so unsure for... what? Two years now? But if Billy is keeping him there...

Everything that's bothering Teddy doesn't really matter in the face of Billy's uncertainty, and how lost he looks. So, Teddy wipes his other hand against his pants, then brushes his fingers against Billy's temple while he leans in again, pressing their foreheads together once more.

Billy needs this. Stable touches like this, an anchor, something grounding. And somewhere inside the storm of his own uncertainty, Teddy needs this, too.]

Then we'll figure out. That's what we do, right? We might not have the answer right away... but we will. We'll fix this.