i’m loving these tim minis so much oh 🥺🥺🥺 what about him being so nervous to hold hands with you cause of the scars on his palms from the electric fence, he doesn’t want you to see them so he kinda puts it off but he’s so cute about it and you assure him that’s it’s ok and he eventually gives in 🥺🥺🥺
me too i love him sm 🥺 he puts it off for so long that you begin to think he’s sending you a signal, always keeping his hands in his pockets when you’re together and it honestly hurts your feelings a little because you like tim so much, so one day, while he’s sneaked out of the museum for lunch with you, you bring it up tentatively.
“do you—i mean, you still want to, y’know, do this, right?”
and he’s shocked because he knows he can be a little slow on the jump, but in his own little way, he thinks he’s made it quite clear that he adores you deeply, so he stops, right in the middle of the crowded sidewalk and stares at you. “of course, i do. of course. why?”
your cheeks flush and you look away from him, slightly embarrassed by how insecure you feel, but tim regresses you back to what feels like 13. all coherent thought is tossed out the window when it comes to him, so you can’t help but act a little silly around him. “i just...it’s been a month, and you haven’t kissed me. you haven’t even held my hand, and i like you so much, and i don’t want to pressure you, i just want to make sure that you’re in this.” your toes kicked at the sidewalk nervously, avoiding eye contact.
he frowns, fingers twitching in his pockets. he wants so badly to reach out to you, because all he thinks about is what your palm would feel like pressed against his or what your lips would feel like or if you would play with his fingers while you were bored. “y/n, i—” he pauses, smiling smally at you while he collects his thoughts. “you have no idea how bad i want that. i just, with the fence and everything, they’re—y’know, they’re not exactly pleasant to look at,” he laughs awkwardly, looking away. “it’s not that i don’t want that, i just...don’t want you to be put off, that’s all.”
you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief, wiping your own palms over your jeans. “oh. okay.” you nodded, glancing up at him. “all on your own time, but i hope you know that there’s nothing about you—nothing—that could ever put me off.”
the two of you stare at one another in silence before you give a confirming nod, turning to begin walking again. tim follows, his heart racing, because he could never have imagined hearing those words from anyone let alone you, fantastic, wonderful, perfect you, so he removes his hands from his pockets. after a minute of walking quietly side by side, you feel tentative fingers brushing over your palm, his fingers entwining with yours, palms pressed together, and even with his scars, you both think they fit together perfectly.
