Everything normal. A world where everyone gets to live, and no one suffers, and no one dies, and Tim's head isn't tainted right out the gate.
"Any of it could've happened," he mutters, passing his hand across to the back of his head, down to the nape of his neck, grip tight. Any of it could've happened, because if it's one of those things that get forgotten, it can just join the legions of other useless, formless, discarded memories.
Doesn't sound the least bit plausible. Some kind of world where everything works out, and no one dies, and no one wakes up in a paranoid sweat with their hair plastered to their forehead because their heart won't stop pounding in their chest. Sounds about as plausible as a world where she was - around. To ask. To care.
"Sounds fake," he grunts, a wry drape across something harder - much harder - to look at directly. Like staring into the fucking sun, searing his retinas.
no subject
"Any of it could've happened," he mutters, passing his hand across to the back of his head, down to the nape of his neck, grip tight. Any of it could've happened, because if it's one of those things that get forgotten, it can just join the legions of other useless, formless, discarded memories.
Doesn't sound the least bit plausible. Some kind of world where everything works out, and no one dies, and no one wakes up in a paranoid sweat with their hair plastered to their forehead because their heart won't stop pounding in their chest. Sounds about as plausible as a world where she was - around. To ask. To care.
"Sounds fake," he grunts, a wry drape across something harder - much harder - to look at directly. Like staring into the fucking sun, searing his retinas.