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Jim woke to the painfully familiar sound of rapid, panicked breaths on the other bed. Jim sat up, unsurprised to see Toro’s huddled, shaking form.
“Tom?” Jim reached out a hand. Only to quickly retract it when Toro jumped and a burst of flame illuminated the room.
“Don’t touch me,” Toro gasped, pulling away further with wide eyes, “Please.”
Jim sat back, keeping his hands where Toro could see them.
“I won’t,” Jim didn’t know what else to say. Toro had always been physically affectionate, even when he was scared or upset. At least until…
JIm swallowed against a thousand questions he knew he could never ask. Four years had already been stolen from them, and now all he could do was sit and watch helplessly as Toro suffered through the waves of panic. .
Jim hated being helpless.
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Jim had two mugs of hot chocolate ready before Toro made it to the kitchen. The young man stood in the doorway, wary and hesitant in a way he hadn’t been in years. Red rimmed eyes watched Jim’s movements as he set about making breakfast.
It hurt so much to stay silent, but Jim knew Toro needed to come to him. Or he thought. Nothing was certain since Korea.
Eventually Toro came the rest of the way into the kitchen, and took a seat, seeming much younger and much older than he was all at once. Jim brought over a mug of hot chocolate, a peace offering in the fight Toro was having with himself.
“I’m sorry,” Toro’s voice was full of shame, “I didn’t mean to- to react like that.”
“It’s alright,” Jim said, even though it was very definitely not. He wanted to ask ‘What did they do to you?’ or ‘Do you really not remember, even now?’ or ‘Can I hug you?’, but the words caught in his throat.
Toro nodded, his face showing that he didn’t believe it. The telephone rang, and life went on.