[It is a dumb joke, absurdly so, actually, but it's like an icebreaker in the midst of an awkward conversation, a breath of fresh air, and Billy finally breathes. He inhales, and it's a muffled bark of a laugh that escapes, brief and slightly exasperated because really, Teddy, really, and even if it doesn't last, he can feel the difference. His shoulders lift, his fingers shift to twine through Teddy's, and it feels right again. It feels like... he can do this.
There's still a whisper of doubt, of course: that if he were really normal, if he were really himself again, he'd have tossed back a silly quip, another quote, an exasperated comment at such a classic example of Teddy's sense of humour. He doesn't have the peace of mind to be ready for that, not yet.
But he'd laughed. Just for a second, he'd laughed. That's something, right?
He moves again, letting Teddy's tug pull him forward, falling back into step with the blond as the door is pushed open. Sunlight greets him, birds chirp, a chilly autumn wind blows through his hair. He's outside, and that urge to flee back to his window is quieted, somewhat, by the hand curled around his own.
[Action, October 21st]
There's still a whisper of doubt, of course: that if he were really normal, if he were really himself again, he'd have tossed back a silly quip, another quote, an exasperated comment at such a classic example of Teddy's sense of humour. He doesn't have the peace of mind to be ready for that, not yet.
But he'd laughed. Just for a second, he'd laughed. That's something, right?
He moves again, letting Teddy's tug pull him forward, falling back into step with the blond as the door is pushed open. Sunlight greets him, birds chirp, a chilly autumn wind blows through his hair. He's outside, and that urge to flee back to his window is quieted, somewhat, by the hand curled around his own.
He can do this. They can.]