[Quentin says it quietly, almost in to his sleeves because his hands are at his mouth, and the words come out on the tail end of a half-sob, voice wet and eyes stinging. What is it about this place, that makes him want to tear up? It could be the darkness, pressing in on him, on them, from all sides, but it's not bad with Eliot here. With two sources of light instead of just the one and it's pretty here, in a way that he never expected this fucking place to be. The points of lights in the distance and he wants, wants, wants.
To write the letters.
To write down everything he wanted to tell them all, but never did because despite everything the universe threw at him, he always expected to have time to do it later.]
It doesn't work that way. There's no magic that can bring the words of the dead back to you. [but he really, really wants there to be. Wants to tell them all how loved they were and how precious and how every last one of them (yes, even Penny) made life better in some way. Curling his arms around his bent legs, Quentin rests his head on his knees and looks at Eliot.]
But. I'm not-- I-- uhm, but we can try? Maybe? God, Eliot, I want to and I don't even know why I want to? There's just this part of me that has so many things to say to everyone and-- okay. [he wipes his arm over his eyes] Want to build a boat with me?
no subject
[Quentin says it quietly, almost in to his sleeves because his hands are at his mouth, and the words come out on the tail end of a half-sob, voice wet and eyes stinging. What is it about this place, that makes him want to tear up? It could be the darkness, pressing in on him, on them, from all sides, but it's not bad with Eliot here. With two sources of light instead of just the one and it's pretty here, in a way that he never expected this fucking place to be. The points of lights in the distance and he wants, wants, wants.
To write the letters.
To write down everything he wanted to tell them all, but never did because despite everything the universe threw at him, he always expected to have time to do it later.]
It doesn't work that way. There's no magic that can bring the words of the dead back to you. [but he really, really wants there to be. Wants to tell them all how loved they were and how precious and how every last one of them (yes, even Penny) made life better in some way. Curling his arms around his bent legs, Quentin rests his head on his knees and looks at Eliot.]
But. I'm not-- I-- uhm, but we can try? Maybe? God, Eliot, I want to and I don't even know why I want to? There's just this part of me that has so many things to say to everyone and-- okay. [he wipes his arm over his eyes] Want to build a boat with me?