hand on my heart

Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling.

all turns to silver glass

pairing: TK/Carlos | words: 4.4k

I don’t know if I’m here, don’t know if I live, but I know that - whatever I am - I am found. I am solid again because you take notice of me. “Come with me.” You say but your lips do not move. Your voice comes from somewhere deep in your chest, like you’re speaking with all parts of you. I can perceive every word as it takes hold of my insides and pulls, leading my focus, tugging each organ of mine so they come to you, wherever you are, wherever you’ll be.

what you see will be

pairing: TK/Carlos | words: 64k

“Greece, uh?”

TK doesn’t specify. He doesn’t point out that it’s an island, hours away from where the plane will leave him. He doesn’t tell him that the name – Varco – is one he never heard before; didn’t even know it existed, until he saw it scribbled black on white.

He doesn’t tell him how much he likes the word, like it came out of a fairy-tale. Owen would probably think him foolish, and TK is not sure he would be wrong.

So he just smiles, bites his lip to smother it a bit: keep it leveled, secure. For now. “Yeah.”