through his eyes The expression on Ben’s face was pitying, like Bill was a small, broken thing.
Bill was far from broken. He was magic and passion and joy and curiously. He was everything Tom wanted to be, everything Tom hadn’t known he wanted to be. Everything Tom wanted to hold, to keep, to be with.
Bill was humming to himself and Ben turned to Tom, looking for answers there. “What’s wrong with him?”
This time, Tom knew the answer. “Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with him.”
This time, Tom could believe it.