[It's not something she wants to say out loud, least of all to this version of Tim, who must already know. He must feel it. It must've been on the tip of his own tongue and it's like before-where she has to say it and she doesn't want to, but-
His eyes are on her and she hates it. It's not comforting-all the kindness she's used to is missing from that gaze and she wishes this were the original Tim. A Tim who tries to make her say things, but it's never like this.
But dwelling on that won't change anything. These versions are persistent and it's better to say it. No matter how quiet her voice is because he knows. Deep down he has to know. It's not a secret.]
He knows something in me-it's bad, but he still reaches out. His heart's good like that.
no subject
His eyes are on her and she hates it. It's not comforting-all the kindness she's used to is missing from that gaze and she wishes this were the original Tim. A Tim who tries to make her say things, but it's never like this.
But dwelling on that won't change anything. These versions are persistent and it's better to say it. No matter how quiet her voice is because he knows. Deep down he has to know. It's not a secret.]
He knows something in me-it's bad, but he still reaches out. His heart's good like that.