time heals.

@tickerhart

“You’re not broken.”

Colton chastises, but despite the almost sharpness that slices through his tone, he is not angry at Danny.

Colton does, however, feel a hot surge of anger to those that are nothing but snobbish to the younger generation, considering how many good men and women and children lost their lives to the “War of All Wars”.

How many rest in fields full of poppies? How many families have been torn apart from the loss of brothers or husbands or fathers? How many men came home but never felt like they left the battlefield? How many lost limbs, or even their lives, were cut for a war that Colton never could follow the logic for?

Too many, if you asked Colton.

Trumpets buzz, the percussionist has a very good rhythm that Colton finds himself enjoying immensely, and the saxophones croon in conversation. Occasionally, the pianist joins in, but seems to politely wait and he chats with a girl with a sleek black bob until it’s his turn.

In a club where laughter fills the air as if tomorrow morning is still far away, where dancing and drinking until dawn is all too common, Colton catches a glimpse of a young woman who gently says hello by brushing her fingertips over his shoulder. Colton assumes this is supposed to be friendly manner. Turning to see a girl about his age in a sparkly dress that ends just shy of her knees (to the scandal of some), ornate headband, red lips curved in a flirtatious smile, and shoes tapping as she walks away, Colton soon realizes that it was not Cassie.

In reply, one of Colton’s hands then reaches for Danny’s own to offer a reassuring squeeze in a gesture that some seem to think of only friendship, but others know of something meaning more. With the other patrons caught up in watching the girl show off what she calls the Charleston, Colton’s grateful for her providing a distraction, regardless of whether she is doing so intentionally or not. For just a moment, Colton is tempted to place his head on Danny’s shoulder; without thinking, he does so, firmly but quietly reinforcing his truth.

@tickerhart

Colton wakes up one morning (when did he fall asleep? he doesn’t remember falling asleep? did he fall asleep?). Though Colton tries to follow the trail of the rain droplets pattering against the glass window with his finger hovering (somehow, he is still amazed to find that his fingers still leave behind prints and are smudged ever so slightly on the foggy window), the task unfortunately has to be abandoned when it turns to torrential downpour.

White lightning dances across the gray and dreary sky, surprisingly bright enough to be seen even when Colton closes his eyes. Some people say that thunder claps sound like cymbals crashing or artillery fire. Colton thinks it sounds as if a sky deity is angry.

If Danny shatters out loud as he says, then Colton’s own cracks are quietly chipped away until it’s almost like a spiderweb of cracked glass; it’s not noticeable at first, until it becomes impossible to ignore.

If Danny is loud in his breaking, then Colton is quiet — forced smiles through tear stained and freckled cheeks, wiping away tears before they can be seen, pain numbed until the wound is ripped open and blood stains fabric, choking back sobs.

“D’you think… you could stay?”

Colton cringes at the rumble of thunder in reply; it seems to Colton that the sky is upset by the request, seemingly reminding him of what could be if he continues to be careless with the flow of time.

What could happen if he lets seconds turn to minutes and minutes turn to hours, isn’t entirely Colton’s responsibility anymore, though.

@tickerhart

The glass front of the clock tower seems to tremble and hum with buzzing electricity, with energy.

Startled by the sudden and surprise loud thunder clap, Colton winks out of sight for a moment before reappearing. Colton’s heart drums against his chest, seemingly in sync with the intensity of the thunder rumbling.

Just a few minutes jump forward to hours. A different thunder clap echoes and time returns to back to further than the time when Danny arrived for today. Time becomes frantic until Colton’s heart beat steadies.

A pendulum swings back and forth, seemingly in sync with his sun kissed legs. The second finger on the clock hastily moves forward, following the motion of Colton’s impatiently drumming fingers. Curious golden eyes gleam like gemstones around the clock face.

A golden eyelash in his eye becomes a splinter in the glass. One of Colton’s eyes feels dry and itchy when a bird lands on the minute or hour hand outside, but today, the rain against the glass makes Colton’s own eyes feel as if he’s dealing with hay fever or been crying, but he knows that isn’t the case at all.

Golden ribbons of time weave around the seemingly empty clock tower, around Colton’s fingertips, up and down his arms, floating like dust in the sunlight that sometimes is around Danny’s head when he visits the clock tower.

It’s a gift, Colton thinks some days about his abilities to mold time like clay between a sculptor’s hands. It’s lonely, he thinks on other days, on his worst days, on days like today where Danny isn’t able to do outside repairs to the clock tower because of the weather or can’t visit because the roads are muddy and unfavorable and prevent him from being able to do so.

Danny compares the abilities that Colton has to the universe. Or rather, Danny compares the clock spirit to the universe; something akin to a blush spreads across Colton’s cheeks, a burst of gold seems to explode around the room, as day and night are replaced with day again. Colton can’t help the giddy laugh (and he doesn’t quite realize the jarring time change that he’s enacted). However, since this is a pop-up shower (or at least, that’s what he has heard some of the locals call it), he is all too happy to allow Danny to stay longer until the lightning and thunder stops.

“I thought you said that the sun was the center of the universe? Which, by the way, I still don’t think so. Besides…”

Colton’s normally playful tone turns into one more serious.

@tickerhart

When Colton is chastised by Abigail to turn around, another voice (Colton can’t quite make it out since the voice is dropped to a whisper) reminds her that it’s about not seeing the bride before her wedding not about seeing the groom. Abigail agrees with the new voice but insists that she doesn’t want to prick Colton with the needle attached to the back of the flower that will be in Colton’s front pocket. Abigail also gently tells Colton to stop fidgeting.

It’s like asking Danny to not continue pursuing mechanic work. Or like asking their beloved Punzie to stop begging for snacks even after she’s just had dinner and tried to sneak off with a guest’s shoe. It can be asked, it can be told, but it doesn’t mean that it will be followed through and obeyed.

Colton gives an uncharacteristically nervous exhale.

The cake, decorated with fondant cogs and gears, waits in the refrigerator. Most of the food is in the refrigerator and away from the reach of one dog that is too helpful, hungry, and clever, for her own good, but last Colton saw her, she was receiving belly rubs from either Brandon or Cassie; it’s possible that Punzie might have gone to seek affection from another one of their friends if one of those was requested to help Danny.

Colton imagines beaches and ocean waves against bare toes, about the stories he has heard growing up, and he’s grateful that venue option was considered. Even if it had meant shooing away obnoxious and greedy seagulls.

At least this venue is one that both Danny and Colton had agreed on.

Each one of their friends has a role in the ceremony. The glimmering rings are safe where they should be. Their family members are in the audience, talking with one another, and Colton is glad to see some familiar homeland treats lining the tablecloth from afar. He can’t wait to let Danny try some of his personal favorites, to see his boyfriend-turned-finance-soon to be husband.

A familiar voice is by his side, and Colton feels the same tingle from the tips of his fingers down to his toes as when he and Danny had first discussed this event being a possibility.

Although Colton tends to seek out attention, thrives in it even, he wanted to be sure that Danny would be okay with it too. Colton tries to smooth out non-existent wrinkles from his suit jacket, glancing down to his freshly polished shoes, almost like the ground is more fascinating as he ties his own oxfords again and again wishes that he was barefoot instead.

At least Abigail has understood why Colton refused each and every color of a bow tie, why the only option he would consider for a tie was one that clipped on and he could remove at a moment’s notice. So far, the metallic colored one has been remaining loose, away from his throat, and not yet removed with the trembling fingers that followed whenever Colton felt something was too tight around his throat.

“I’ve been here, the whole time, Danny. And I’m not going anywhere…”

Colton covers his own eyes with one of his own hands, as if to please Abigail that he won’t be sneaking a peek of his soon to be husband and partly because he does want to be surprised anyway. Clumsily, Colton gives a kiss to the side of Danny’s nose, rather than his cheek or lips or even the tip of his nose that had been where Colton was trying to reach, but nothing stops the accompanying grin that Colton can’t stop.

“It was pretty surreal to have Timothée play my son, Edgar. Timothée is an incredible guy — so talented and sweet. I felt a pretty instant bond with him.”

HAPPY 25th BIRTHDAY TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET x