Consider: time noticing how four looks up to sky
Sky and Time are civil. Always are. Both want to get to know the other. Neither truly can. A wall the size and shape of a holy blade sits between them.
Time chooses to focus on other matters. Twilight. Wind. Legend. His descendants, his responsibilities, his family members, his home. His quest. Four, his hero.
Four doesn't know he's Time's hero. He notices the glances, the curiosity, the focus, and chalks it up to an older hero simply making sure he's competent. He is, and everyone knows it. But it doesn't bother him, because he's not being lectured or exposed or pulled into the spotlight. He's just watched.
Besides, he's a bit busy trying not to trip over his own feet next to his hero.
Sky doesn't know he's Four's hero. The kid's interesting and curious and fun and badass as all hell. He asks questions and looks for advice. Sky chalks it up to being approachable. Being the type of soft he's been trying so desperately to become after his adventure. He's proud he's been able to reach it. He's not scary anymore: doesn't glare at everyone he bumps into, doesn't chase a lead with bared teeth and jagged edges. He makes the effort to smile at kids and help with groceries and be...soft. That's all he wants to be.
Time knows Sky is Four's hero. He sees how the Smith looks at him, like he's blessed the very ground and hung the moon and stars. He hides it well, but Time knows that look. He sees it in the mirror, in the back of his eyes, no matter how hard he tries to bury it. He's not jealous. Jealous is the wrong word. But he watches the two of them - watches his hero grow close to a man he can't even hold a comfortable conversation with - and finds a resigned, deeply rooted disappointment in his heart.
He wishes he could weave his way into their little bubble. Wishes he could grow as close as they are. They deserve the happiness the other brings, but Time would give a lot to find it in them, himself.
There's a wall between him and Sky.
And Four's on the side he can't reach.
