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Ted struggled with eye contact ever since he was a little boy. He never understood the idea of needing to do it so that people knew he was listening to what they were saying. It wasn't that he wasn't paying attention, it was just physically painful to do. There was always a burning sensation that stung around his eyes whenever he tried locking them with someone else’s. Sometimes it hurt so much, it made the back of his neck sweat. Made his hands tingly. Dried his throat. As though his entire body was trying to convince him that he was on fire.
It was toughest when he had to look into his father's eyes. They seemed to glare right through him, attempting to expose things from him that he didn't even know he was hiding. And no amount of convincing could get him to believe he was truly concentrating on his dad's words despite needing to stare anywhere else but into his sharp brown orbs. Snap out of it and wake up were the few phrases he grew up hearing whenever a conversation arose between them.
At least his little brother was good at it; being able to withstand what should be a simple, common gesture, will help him do better in life. Though Ted knew their dad only wanted what was best for both his son's, he was glad Deacon wouldn't have to endure all the scrutiny that came with trying to get them there.
But no matter what his dad thought, Ted did try to do better.
He’d blink really hard to alleviate the sting or look over at something else – something way less scary or overwhelming like a wall or the floor, though staring at the latter usually got him into more trouble than the former. He and his father both thought he’d grow out of it when he got older, but he didn’t. He only found better ways to mask it. Cope with it.
Hiding behind his bangs, shoving his hands in his pockets to conceal the sweat that pooled his palms, or simply looking at Bill.
His tender green eyes were the only ones he could ever gaze into and not feel completely off balance. They were so much easier to take in despite how beautiful and radiant they were. Half-hooded emeralds glowing right in front of him. Two gleaming reminders of how safe he was by his side, how much more at ease with himself he can be.
When Ted looks at Bill, and Bill looks at him, everything just makes sense. Falls right into place. All his questions are answered; all his worries drift away. He looked for guidance inside his irises and found exactly what he was searching for.
He was home there. Sometimes getting lost in them and content with never being found. He was his.
“Caught you staring again, dude!”
Ted smiled at his most excellent companion before looking away coyly.
“Oops.”