#tim wright angst

The quiet of the motel room was heavy, the darkness that you had to sit in to keep you safe creeping in on you with every passing second. The bit of moonlight that crept across the room's carpet did nothing to ease the grip fear seemed to have over you. You didn't know who or what was lurking out there, if they would once again actually lay their hands or whatever they had instead on you. Or worse, what if you did know who was at fault? Jay had been slowly becoming irritable and out of sorts the longer you were all on the run, and while you knew it wasn't his fault, Tim wasn't always… himself. You and Jay had both been on the receiving end of what the masked man was capable of.

You nearly felt stuck in place underneath the motel comforter, suffocating from the heat of it, despite the blanket weighing nothing at all.

Tim shifts slightly in his sleep beside you, and you instinctively freeze. You didn't want to wake him up. You worried that rolling over onto one of your sides would wake him up, and you knew sitting up would probably yield the same result, but it didn't stop you. As the seconds passed, the heat made your anxiety more palpable until it turned into outright panic. Before you knew it, you were carefully but quickly sitting up and pushing the cheap sheets off your body, feeling your lungs expand faster and faster behind your ribcage.

Everything in your body felt wrong, like it wasn't yours somehow, even though you had never been anyone else. Your skin tingled as though all of your limbs were asleep, mouth and throat inexplicably dry. You pull your knees into your chest, arms closing around them, and dull nails digging into your legs. You could pull yourself together - you had to. You weren't the only person going through something; you didn't need to drag the boys into your bullshit.

The bed shifts, and you hold your breath as though that would somehow make you disappear.

You're fine, you're fine. The words didn't help. It's just Tim. You never thought there would be a day when that thought wouldn't solve all of your problems.

A hand moves slowly against the small of your back, the warmth of it making your back straighten as though that would get it away from you. Your entire body is tense, and it almost hurts.

"Hey," Tim's voice is rough with sleep, but it's his. The sound still doesn't change your posture or the noise in your head. "You okay?" You can feel his hand on your back stutter in its movements, like Tim doesn't know if he should take it away or if you need it to keep you grounded.

You can't answer or even look at him, and now guilt is slowly mixing in with your panic. You hate that you can't move or acknowledge him, you hate that you can't even bring yourself to relax and lean into him. You want to look at Tim and tell him you're okay, tell him the truth, tell him anything, but the dryness in your throat keeps you silent.

Tim lets out a quiet groan that you would tease him for if you weren't so stuck. You barely register the mattress moving underneath you or the springs threatening to squeak before you feel one of Tim's big hands on top of your head, fingers affectionately leaving a soft scratch against your scalp before tracing the slope of your face to make you look at him. You can't see for shit, though, only the vague outline of him, wishing you could see his big brown eyes. You wouldn't be able to maintain your gaze for more than a second, but you felt as though it could be enough. You love Tim's eyes.

"Look at me, love." You already were, and he knows it. Tim also knows you need the encouragement, the guidance. And like you, he can barely make you out in the nearly nonexistent light and knows that you can see even less of him. "You're okay." The way Tim says it is like a hushed, relieved sigh, like he also needs to hear it to believe it. Like he's hallucinating the feeling of your face under his hand. "You're safe with me."

Finally, after what feels like hours of being unable to move, you feel yourself nod. You're still stiff, but it's like your nervous system is aware of Tim's presence and knows that he's right. If anyone would keep you safe, it's Tim. You lean your face further into his palm. His thumb passes over your cheek. You can hear him breathing against the silence of the room, but it's louder, like he's trying to quietly convince you to copy his breathing. You do before you can fully register it's happening.

Your lips part to say something, but you don't have anything to say. Or maybe you do, but your brain is choosing to keep the words locked up. Instead, you slowly remove your nails from the skin of your thigh and go to softly hold his hand, taking it away from your face and pulling it close to you, resting your hands against your knees, looking at the way they're folded together. "I'm sorry." The words creak as they leave your mouth.

Tim lets out a little huff, squeezing your hand. "What are you apologizing for, darlin'? You didn't do anything wrong." You feel your face flush, maybe from embarrassment, maybe in guilt. You don't know. Your muscles tense again as you feel him move you until you're pressed into his side with his free arm. It's only when the two of you are settled that your body finally relaxes, weightless in a way that hasn't been true in hours. Tim's warmth seems to lull your senses into a more comfortable state. "You wanna talk about it?"

You love the way Tim cares for you. It's always soft and at your own pace in a way you think he'd somehow brush off or deny if you ever said anything about it. Tim was always soft for someone who was so rough around the edges. "I don't know." You sigh, but you know you have more to say. "Just… Scared, I guess." It feels like you're admitting to something shameful, like fear isn't a valid thing to feel in the context of what your life has become.

You're sure Tim's frowning, self deprecating thoughts worming their way into his head. You're quick to reassure him, just like he does for you. "It's not your fault, though. Never your fault." It's your turn to squeeze his hand. "I just can't stop thinking about everything." Your hushed words take on an incredulous tone, because you know if anyone other than Jay or Tim heard you, they'd think you were crazy or just being ridiculous. Maybe you were, maybe it was some kind of long, bizarre dream. You know better, though.

"I get that." It's one of Tim's go-to responses as he listens and tries to figure out the best way to respond. "All of this is," there's the tiniest pause in his sentence, "a lot." You slowly nod and move your head to rest against his shoulder. "I know that all of it is really strange and really terrifying." You can almost feel him swallow from where your forehead is resting near his neck.

"If I could find a way to keep you out of it, I would. No matter what it takes, I'm going to make sure you stay safe and stay alive." Tim's words are more than a promise. They're a vow that lands heavily in the silence of the room. "You're safe with me." He repeats, pulling you into him, tighter in a way that you think should be impossible, but you let it happen. You welcome the comfort.

"I love you." Sleep laces your words and your eyes feel heavy again, basking in the secure feeling that Tim always offers you. And even though your mouth doesn't move to finish your thought, you know Tim heard what is left unsaid. That you're so grateful that he's in your life, that you refuse to imagine or acknowledge a life without him.

⊹ฺ He has sleepy parent friend energy - like, he will gladly smile and nod at what you do, but will also get so nervous depending on what it is. As ready to smile and nod as he is, he is also fully prepared to sigh at you and your plan.

⊹ฺ Periodically disappears (as Tim does) and no matter how long he's gone, he always feels so bad and you are the first person he reaches out to.

⊹ฺ In that same vein, Time goes back and forth between seeking you out and isolating himself when he's low; he wants to be around you (his safe space), but he also doesn't want to put you in harm's way.

⊹ฺ When he's travelling around with Jay, he tries to come and see you any time he can. It's all far and few between, but he tries his hardest.

⊹ฺ Speaking of things more "Marble Hornets related", Masky hesitates when he sees you. While Tim would love to think his alter wouldn't hurt you, that doesn't stop him from trying to take control back to keep you safe.

⊹ฺ Tim gets so nervous whenever you cough. His body tenses and he feels like his heart stops.

⊹ฺ No matter where he is, he always makes sure to call or text right at midnight on your birthday. He loves you so much, and therefore, has to be the first person to tell you.

⊹ฺ Guys, I love him so much, you don't understand, haha.

✧ Evan Meyers

⊹ฺ Poor thing, holy shit.

⊹ฺ Loves holding your hand and carrying you around. He can't explain it, but carrying you around is so fun for him.

⊹ฺ Teases you a lot; seeing your smile or hearing your laugh just make his day twenty times better.

⊹ฺ Loves watching horror movies with you or playing horror games - he's always hoping something scares you enough for you to grab onto him, haha.

⊹ฺ Speaking of, Evan is absolutely your biggest protector. If he wasn't already trigger happy about kicking the asses of demons and cosmic/eldritch horrors, you would definitely be what kicks that off.

⊹ฺ Makes Jeff and Vinnie to swear they'll look after you if anything happens to him.

⊹ฺ Thinks about keeping his distance from you a lot to keep you safe. It never works, though. He misses you and worries about you too much.

⊹ฺ He makes sure that you know where all of his knives are and how to use them. He wants you to be able to have a fighting chance if he's not around, whether that's physically, or because his body's being used against his will.

⊹ฺ Would love to one day have a family with you (if you also want one), but also knows how slim the chances of that happening are. He doesn't trust himself enough, either.