Postoperative Complications

by gummybird

Summary:

Jay survives getting shot. Things go downhill from there.

Notes:

Potential Triggers:
Slight suicide joke made by Tim
Mentions of Jay getting shot

Chapter 1: Discussion

It’s cold on the balcony.

Jay knew that he should go back inside. October was giving way to November quicker than it had in years, periodic gusts of wind causing him to hunch over the balconies metallic fencing, the iron bar he was holding practically burning a freezing hole against the skin of his palm. No. There was nothing pleasant about being out here, no pretty view, nothing to gawk at, no selling point to hike up the price of the rooms. None of the hotels they stayed at did, but this one had a particularly egregious view. The highway stretched out for miles upon miles upon miles in front of him, and to the right was A tiny little strip of forest nestled in between the hotel and road. Looking at either of them, Jay’s teeth on edge.

He didn't move, continuing to stare at a fixed point on the horizon, watching as the sun slowly drifted down. His plan, such as it was, was to stay outside as long as he could handle. The low, horrible ache in his gut that meant he needed to take his meds sooner rather than later didn’t matter, nor did the cold, nor did the chance of that thing showing back up. Inside there was something far worse. Inside was Tim.

Of course, Jay can recognize that this is irrational. A million thanks to the therapist the hospital had forced him to speak to and her wonderful ideas about “coping mechanisms” and “PTSD” and “anxiety disorders”. Hate was too small of a word for how he felt about those weekly sessions. Most of it was garbage, meaningless fluff to fill the hour he was stuck talking. But his therapist hadn’t been entirely wrong about everything, much as he was loath to admit it. He was using some of what she taught him even now, thinking about things objectively, willowing away a small part of himself away from his paranoia. It was a constant struggle, working through his life carefully, picking apart the truths from the fiction.

Tim was his friend. Jay cared about Tim. No matter what happened Tim was going to keep caring about him. Tim had dragged him to the hospital bleeding out and managed to save his life six months ago. He cared about Tim more than anyone else in the world. He had hurt Tim horribly. He had treated Tim horribly. He had done unforgivable things to Tim. Tim still stayed.

It was that last part that complicated things. The problem with therapy and crawling out of the paranoid shell he had built his entire personhood around over the past couple years was learning just how sharp he had made its curves. To say he had hurt Tim, well, maybe that was the real understatement. Again and again like a poorly trained animal he had bit the hand that fed in favor of what? Running after a girl he didn’t even know? Praying and hoping and thinking Alex might actually come back? Trying to keep himself safe and getting shot as a result? The hand that Jay didn’t have wrapped around the fencing slowly drifts down to his gut.

Part of Jay wanted to run as far away as he could before Tim had a chance to hurt him just as bad as Jay had hurt him. Part of him wanted to crawl on his hands and knees and beg Tim for forgiveness.
Both options would probably turn out the same. A well-deserved punch in the face and whatever equilibrium they found themselves in broken, Tim finally realizing it would be best for him to leave Jay and all of their complicated past behind in favor of greener pastures. Jay wouldn’t even be able to blame him.

“Jay?” Oh no. Tim’s voice immediately drags Jay out of his thoughts, and he turns like a trained animal, muzzled now, moving on instinct towards the sound of his friend.

There he is, the last man on Earth Jay wanted to see right now. Standing by the doorway leading back to their shitty room, one hand on the sliding glass door, the other fumbling in his pocket for a cigarette. He was wrapped up tight in one of his familiar flannels, cleanly shaved, put together, indulging in his one cigarette of the day. He looks good Jay thinks and immediately shoves the thought down as far as he possibly could.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself. What are you doing out here? Should I call somebody or what?” He gestures towards the drop from the balcony and Jay scowls at him, fingers tightening around the bar. As much as he cared for Tim at times his worry was stifling.

“Don’t be stupid. The fall’s not even high enough to do anything, I’d probably just sprain my ankle if I fell.” He considers the rest of Tim’s sentence. “Who would you even call anyways?”

” I don’t know. Myself I guess. Leave a message on my phone for Masky to keep an eye on you if he shows back up. An ambulance if you sprained your ankle.”

“When he shows back up Tim, he’s probably just going to sit on top of the wardrobe again and look at me like he did the last time.” It felt weird to be talking about him so casually Jay thinks, just another part of their life now like the occasional losses of time and encounters with an otherworldly entity that had eaten their other friends. Compared to that, Masky was pretty normal.

“I guess that’s what he considers high entertainment now that his buddy’s gone.”

“Better than dragging both of you out into the middle of the woods.”

“Better than dragging all of us out into the middle of the woods. He’d probably take you too, Weird little bastard.”

Jay feels more than he sees Tim coming to stand next to him, eyes snapping back towards the horizon, Tim’s tattered jeans barely visible from the corner of his eye. As the last of the sun’s light leaves the sky it’s harder to ignore view of the forest. It would be easy for both of them to get dragged in there. Easier still to accidentally catch sight of it lurking in the trees. That was still preferable to seeing Tim worried about him.

Not that Tim immediately says anything. The only sound is Tim’s occasional drags on his cigarette as the two of them watch the traffic, the scent of smoke filling up Jay’s nose. For a little bit it’s nice, neither of them necessarily appreciating the view but appreciating being in the same space. Jay was appreciating it at the very least. Tim might just be tolerating it.

Of course, it ends quicker than Jay would have liked. Things always did.

“Are you going to keep moping out here or are you going to come back inside?” Tim says, breaking the silence.

“I’m not moping Tim.”

“So, you’re just sitting out here in the freezing cold for fun?”

“I’m not.” Jay says as he fumbles for the right words. “Look, I just needed some space. I don’t know why you’re being so weird about this.”

“Oh. Do you want me to go back inside or something?”

“No! no. It’s fine. I don’t want you going anywhere it’s just” he trails off, picking at the flaking siding of the bars. The paint job was terrible. The hotel would need to come back and apply another coat of paint soon. “I don’t know. I’ve just been thinking.”

“OK. What about?”

There’s clear trepidation in his voice, and Jay hates it. Tim was supposed to respond with some sort of stupid comment about how Jay never thought, and then they would go back and forth until it was time to go to bed or watch TV or eat dinner or one of the million different things that wasn’t talking about what was actually on Jay’s mind. He didn’t want to talk about any of this, wasn’t ready to talk about any of it. But what else was there to say? Maybe that’s why he decides to tell the truth. Either that or some instinctual urge to ruin things.

“I don’t know. The YouTube channel, I guess. Everything I put on it. Everything I did to you.”

Tim doesn’t respond right away, and Jay considers just jumping off of the balcony and fleeing into the woods. He’d Probably break his ankle if he did that, so maybe running back into the hotel room would be the best way to get out of this conversation. But no, Tim was faster than him and his mouth was already opening, continuing to talk without his permission, all of it starting to spill out, unstoppable, horrible.

“I was awful Tim. All the time. You tried to help me, and I didn’t care and I just kept making things worse and worse. I threatened you! I put your medical records online and I know that’s not something I can take back. Now every job you apply to is going to see that no what you’ve been through, and it was stupid and it wasn’t fair of me, and I just couldn’t stop myself. Sometimes I don’t even think that I cared if you got hurt. I just kept going. I couldn’t stop.”

What happens next is predictable. Jay is breathing hard, the aching in his side growing worse and worse. Psychosomatic his therapist said. Stress triggering his body to feel like it’s dying again. It hurts. It feels real. Tim’s hands also feel real when they close around his shoulders, turning Jay towards him. Jay keeps his eyes on the skyline. Tim’s hands are warm. Tim is warm. Tim is real.

“Hey, come on. Jay. Slow down.”

“I guess I’m just trying to say that I’m sorry Tim. I’m sorry.”

It’s only visible for a split second. Something on Tim’s face breaks, his mouth opening up, pupils dilating, a shot through the gut, A change in the routine and then he pieces himself back together, taking a long drag from his cigarette. The smell of smoke is a comfort for both of them. He takes his hand off of Jay’s shoulder.

“OK.”

And that was that.

“I was thinking we should probably get a rice cooker or something.” Tim said. “That’s good for your stomach, right?”

“I don’t think anything is really good for my stomach right now Tim, but yeah. Rice is usually all right. Better than fast food anyways. Are you really suggesting carry a rice cooker around in our cars?”

” Less weird than carrying around boxes of tapes. It isn’t like we’re going to have someone stalking us anymore, not for a while.”

That was actually fair. Jay considers it. “I guess if we can find A cheap ones second hand that wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

“Alright. We don’t have one yet though, so are you good with me ordering something from the same place we ate at last night?” Looks like it was time to eat. Along with attempting to quit smoking, Tim was all about trying to take his pills properly now. This was something Jay was forced to concede to as much as he didn’t like eating. The thing about being on multiple different medications meant said medications might eat through his stomach lining if he didn’t eat the occasional bit of toast.

” Yeah. That sounds good.”

Nodding, Tim Stubbs his cigarette out, moving back towards the balcony door. It wouldn’t take long for the scent of smoke to fade away, taking Tim with it.

“You coming inside?”

“No. I’ll be in in a bit.

“OK. Suit yourself.”

Clearly Tim thought Jay was stupid. How could he not after a rant like that? It didn’t matter whether it was cold or that the sun was gone or that he was starting to shiver. He wasn’t going back inside the hotel room with Tim, pride be damned. He was going to sit out here until the food came and that would give them something to talk about and it would be fine, and they could both ignore whatever the hell that just was and-

“Here- wait Jesus Jay!”

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to keep your stupid ass from freezing to death.” Tim huffed, raising both of his hands as he stepped back, His flannel now wrapped around Jay’s shoulders. “Sorry. I didn’t think you’d jump like that.”

Oh. “Thanks.”

“Yeah. Don’t mention it. I’ll call you when the food gets here.” With that he heads back inside lingering for just a moment before leaving Jay to sit there with his thoughts and the wind and the warmth slowly leaching out of his flannel. As soon as he is sure Tim is gone Jay angles his head down, burying his face in the soft fabric. It smelled nice. It smelled like Tim.

He doesn’t go back inside until his fingers are completely numb.

Chapter 2: Talk and Shop

Summary:

Jay goes to therapy. Tim buys some egg rolls.

Notes:

Trigger Warnings for this chapter:
Implied/referenced child abuse
Ablism
Sensory Overload
Mentioned difficulties eating

Jay in general just. Kind of being a weird little neurotic asshole he will get better he is trying.

Dr. Steven’s office smelled of mint and mildew.

On a good day the smell turned Jay’s stomach. It was not a good day. Sitting there, staring at his phone and chewing at the corner of his cheek he contemplated, not for the first time, turning around and walking out the door. Clearly any practice that took such poor care of itself didn’t offer good therapy. Even the tiny diffuser, propped up high on the filing cabinet behind the front desk that was never manned, couldn’t do anything outside of offer up a new upsetting smell to mix with the other upsetting smells. The front door had chips in the paint, the office took days to call him back, and he was pretty sure the chair he was currently sitting on had a stain across the back.

If he wanted to, really wanted to, he could get up and walk out the door. He had enough justification where he might even be able to convince Tim it was a good idea. Jay doesn’t move. He continues to sit there, trying to avoid biting down hard enough to draw blood as he waits for 1:00 PM.

“She’s going to be late again.” he mutters, refreshing Pokémon go for the 3rd time. The one day he actually wanted to talk with his therapist she was going to show up 15 minutes late.
It felt weird to admit he felt anxious for her to show up. But it wasn’t like there was anyone else in his life he could conceivably talk to about the disaster that was last night. The more he thought about it the more funny it seemed. In any other circumstance the fact that he was considering trusting his therapist would probably make Tim happy. What did Tim even talk about with his therapist? What could anyone conceivably talk about with their therapist?

Jay had been extremely careful so far. As soon as he had been cognizant enough to recognize the situation he was in he had taken to Google, researching what he could and couldn’t say in front of a therapist. He wasn’t Tim. There was no universe where he would let himself be locked up or labeled as crazy. Talk about that thing? No. Talk about Alex, Brian, Jessica, Seth, Sara? Of course not, he didn’t want to get arrested. That didn’t leave much in terms of what he could speak about. Harmless little platitudes and admittance that he may or may not have a tendency towards what she labeled as anxiety spirals were the extent of their visits. That and the occasional prying about his family, but Jay was pretty sure the statute of limitations or whatever legal mumbo jumbo that would describe his childhood rendered it a safe topic.

Maybe that was the source of his frustration. In an ideal world he’d have someone he could talk to, not someone he needed to carefully censure everything around lest he be locked up. What was the point of a therapist if at any given moment they could call someone to go and-

“Mr. Merrick?”

Looking up from his phone Jay sees Dr. Stevens leaning out of the doorway to her office, a tiny little space towards the back of the practice. With a warm smile she gestures for him to follow her inside. That was a surprise. He hadn’t actually expected her to be on time. Frowning, he stands up, shoving his phone back in his pocket. It was time to pull himself together and make sure he could act as normally as possible. At least he hadn’t bitten through his cheek this time. Explaining that away had been a nightmare.

“Hi.”

“Hi yourself! You look nice and warm. I can’t believe it’s been getting so cold already!”

“It’s November. November is cold. That’s not surprising.”

“Fair enough. How has the past week been treating you Jay?”

Reluctantly he makes his way over to the couch nestled into the far corner of the room, a seat only slightly more comfortable than the ratty chair outside. As he moves he catalogs each and every point of familiarity. Tiny little trinkets line the shelves by the windows, the curtains are closed, there’s a mug of half drank coffee on her desk, a little bobble head of what might be Sigmund Freud leering beside it. It was a silly way to calm himself down, but Jay relied on it. To Dr. Stevens’ credit she did try and make the environment hospitable for him. She always remembered to close the shades ever since he had a bit of a fit over the neighboring fast food shops tree. Another nightmare of a thing to explain away.

Jay doesn’t bother to lead up to it. His insurance wasn’t paying for him to sit around chit chatting for 45 minutes. “I tried apologizing to Tim about everything.”

“What is everything?”

Jay narrows his eyes at her. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“I know that you and Tim have a contentious relationship.” She says carefully, taking a sip of her coffee. “Is there something specific you tried to apologize to him about?”

Conniving asshole. She was probably trying to probe him for more information. Jay knew that she knew what he was talking about. In lieu of talking about any of his actual issues he sometimes talked about Tim, his frustrations, his fears. There had been enough said for her to know what was going on. Still, he relents.

“Fine. I tried apologizing to him about something that happened a while ago.”

“I see. How did it go?”

“How do you think it went? Terribly.” He pauses, waiting for her to say something. She doesn’t, silently watching him from behind her knickknack covered desk. That had been a tactic he’d read about on a couple of online articles. Let your patient sit in silence to encourage them to talk. To have it used on him was atrocious. Jay lets the silence stretch on for a minute or two longer until it becomes completely unbearable, years of self-taught social etiquette bouncing around the back of his head and screaming that If he didn’t respond he was doing this wrong.

“I didn’t do it right. Tim got upset.” He says reluctantly.

“I don’t think there’s necessarily a right and wrong way to go about apologizing to someone.”

“No, you don’t understand. I did it wrong.”

“How did you do it wrong?”

“I don’t know. The timing was bad. Tim didn’t exactly appreciate me bringing it up before dinner. Turns out apologizing for all of the ways you ruined a man’s life without any sort of lead up doesn’t go over well.”

“Do you think Tim would say that you’ve ruined his life, Jay?”

“Considering the fact that he’s told me multiple times, yes.”

Shit. Now there’s a little bit of blood oozing out from the corner of his cheek and grimaces, swallowing hard. Because she was using a bunch of psych tricks on him and because he didn’t feel like getting up from the couch he decides to just sit with it, wishing more than anything in the world, for the second time in less than 24 hours, he had just kept his mouth shut.

“Maybe he’s not ready to hear it yet, Jay.”

“What?” the idea was ridiculous. “Of course he’s ready to hear it. He was the one I did everything to. Why wouldn’t he want to hear an apology?”

“Even if Tim wants an apology he might not necessarily want one right now. Now, I don’t know exactly what’s gone on between the two of you-”

“If this is your clever way of getting me to talk more I’m not going to.”

Dr. Stevens only response is to raise a single eyebrow. “As I was saying, I don’t understand everything, but I do understand that your relationship with Tim is complicated. You recognize the fact that you’ve hurt him and are actively trying to work on your relationship, and that’s good. But with everything that’s happened he might not be in a space where he’s ready to talk. It’s only been six months. Judging from what you’ve told me, he’s probably still very worried about you. If my close friend had gone through what you went through I wouldn’t be concerned about apologies just yet.”

That’s right. 6 months. Even Jay could recognize Tim was still freaked out. Who wouldn’t be? Jay was. Hell, it was a small miracle Dr. Stevens hadn’t tried pushing the matter of who exactly had shot him yet. Trust the Alabama Police and therapy system not to give a fuck about catching any criminals. “What should I do then? Aren’t you the one who told me to, I don’t know, talk with him?”

“You’ve started the conversation and that’s good Jay. Sometimes it just takes time. If you give him the space that he needs he’ll talk when he’s ready. Just because he’s not ready yet doesn’t mean he’ll never be.”

Jay considers this. It wasn’t the answer that he wanted but it didn’t seem like Dr. Stevens was lying or trying any psychological tricks on him.

“Fine. What should I do in the meantime then?”

“I don’t know. If I’m being honest Jay, you haven’t told me enough for me to give you A more specific answer. If you’re willing to talk a little bit more about-”

“I’m done talking about this.” he says, standing up and walking over to her desk, snatching up a tissue. To her credit, she doesn’t say anything as he spits into it, wadding it up and tossing it into the trash by her desk, checking the clock. Still about 25 minutes in their 45 minutes session.

“All right. Have you gotten any messages from your family lately?”

As if on cue Jay’s phone buzzes.

——————————————————————————

 

“How was the appointment?”

Of course, Tim was asking questions before he even properly got inside the car. Jay slams the door shut behind him, uselessly petty, but necessary for emphasizing his point. “Awful.”

“Hey! Careful with the door!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Jay said, scrunching himself up as he clicked his seat belt into place. Next to him Tim let out a snort, pulling out of the parking lot. The inside of Tim’s car was surprisingly warm, heater at full blast, the sleeves of Tim’s flannel rolled up to expose his arms. Unlike Jay he certainly wasn’t a bean pole. Small, shitty, and crammed with most of their worldly possessions Tim’s car was one of the few things Tim owned that hadn’t been burned to a crisp by Alex. That was one of the many things Jay and Tim had in common. Even sitting shotgun was difficult, Jay needing to scrunch himself between old fast-food trash and a camera bag to even fit. How Tim managed to drive with everything in the back seat Jay couldn’t say.

Technically he should be putting in the work to get his car back, but with everything going on it just felt easier to have Tim take him to his appointments. It was an indulgence, Jay knew that, but after dealing with Dr. Stevens and her probing questions about Jay’s relationship with his mother he deserved a little bit of time with Tim. “That woman is a nightmare.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s just doing her job. God forbid you talk to anyone about your problems.”

“I can talk about my problems just fine Tim.” Jay cut Tim off before he could interrupt him. “The problem isn’t talking. She’s just so insistent about knowing everything.”

“Wow. Does that remind us of anybody we know?”

“I- shut up.”

Next to him Tim grins, a sharp quick smile that exposes his missing tooth, and maybe going to therapy was worth it. A $15 copay and dealing with an unfortunate conversation was A fine price to pay to see Tim happy.

“I’m very sorry that the mean therapist was trying to talk to you about your trauma.”

“Listen, she is mean! and I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have any trauma! Tim! Why are you laughing?”

Despite his protests Tim continues to laugh, hard enough that Jay nearly worries about the car going off the road. “Fine, fine. You don’t have any trauma, and I had a normal childhood. We’re both the picture of health.”

“You spent most of your childhood in a hospital that burnt down.”

“Yep, and you’re the most mentally healthy man I know.”

“Hey! I’m in the stupid therapy.”

“And you hate your therapist. That’s a famously healthy way to look at things.”

Outside the trees continued to shed their leaves, a bright smattering of gold and orange against the midafternoon sky. “I don’t hate her. Sometimes she’s fine. She was fine before she started talking about my mom.”

“Yeah? That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

Against any and all evidence to the contrary Jay wasn’t a complete moron. He was well aware of the reason why they were staying in Alabama. His therapist was Here, and his surgeon was here and the gastrointestinal doctor he was seeing was here, along with his PCP and endocrinologist but the two of them didn’t really count. A little perfect trio of doctors he saw regularly along with several other referrals that were well in the works. He was, for the time being, well and truly ensconced. If they left it would be harder for Jay to get care. So, they circled around from hotel to hotel, trying and mostly failing to figure out what to do next.

What were they going to do next? What could they?

There was also the matter of Tim’s doctors, although, in Jay’s opinion, it would be easier for Tim. The man actually liked going to his appointments, structuring his entire life around his clinic visits. Jay didn’t understand it. It was a matter of personal pride for him that he managed to have less doctors than Tim. Any more than three would mean he was doing worse than his friend.
Not that he was doing particularly good today. His cheek hurt. Soon they ‘d be back at the hotel and Jay would be alone for a couple of hours. He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted to make sure that things were OK between him and Tim. Dr. Stevens had said to give Tim space but... usually after picking Jay up from therapy Tim would go get groceries. Maybe he would actually want help with shopping? That was a thing people help each other with, right?

“Do you want me to come with you?” Jay asked awkwardly, the last part of his sentence pitched up unnaturally high.

“What?”

“I mean do you want me to help with the groceries and shopping and stuff.” Jay said, fidgeting with the end of his hoodies sleeves. What did Tim even buy for groceries? They couldn’t properly shop, they lived in a hotel. “I don’t know. Getting the milk and microwave meals and everything?”

“I don’t think you should be lifting any milk, Jay.”

“OK. Fine. Forget that I asked.” Jay focuses on the car window, the tiny little crack on the top right corner. They’d need to have that looked at sooner rather than later unless they wanted the entire window to break.

” Jay. I don’t care if you come or not, I just don’t want you fucking up your stomach.”

Now that was actually stupid.

”What do you mean? Most of the damage was to my kidney tim. You heard the doctors they said my stomach was healing fine.”

“Yeah. That was totally different. It didn’t involve me caring for an open stomach wound for a couple of months that could reopen if you lift anything too heavy. “

“I don’t even have the kidney anymore.” Jay grumbled. That hadn’t even really been his fault. At a certain point he had been more than capable of taking care of it himself, but Tim had insisted on doing it. “The wounds healed.”

“Do you want to come with me or not?”

“Yes, yes I do. Let’s go get the stupid groceries.”

It was hard to tell if this was a win or not, but it was something. Tim wasn’t smiling anymore nor was he looking at him, eyes completely focused on the road as he flicks his music on, the sound of whatever horrible rock band Tim was currently obsessed with filling the car. It was something. Jay reminded himself of that as they continued to drive, the string of his sleeve slowly beginning to fray.

——————————————————————————

 

Jay knew how to grocery shop. What adult in his mid to late 20s didn’t? You go to the store, buy a bunch of premade food and then go home without interacting with anyone outside of the cashiers. Unpleasant? Yes, but he wasn’t a completely helpless moron like Tim clearly thought he was. Sure, he had no idea how to cook and sure he found most of the experience overwhelming in a way that would embarrass him if forced to talk about it, but he could do it if pressed.

“This is what we’re getting.” Tim repeated, pointing to the tiny scrap of paper clutched in his hands. “We’re not going to buy anything unnecessary or go running around the store.”

“What do you think I’m even going to buy in there Tim? I’m not a child.”

“I don’t know. I just don’t want you running off.”

“It’s an ALDI Tim. Where could I go? Look. We can see practically the entire inside from the parking lot.”

“Fine. Fine.” Tim said as he got out of the car. “Just don’t go trying to go off budget. I plan this out carefully.”

“OK. Jay shivered at the cold gust of air that waited for him in the parking lot. “There’s a lot of people here.”

“Yup.” Tim agreed, nodding towards the entrance of the store, one of his hands in his pocket. “Come on.”

ALDIS was weird. It turns out Tim wasn’t fumbling for his cigarettes, instead pulling out a quarter to unlock one of the carriages as Jay watched in mild fascination. The oddities didn’t end there as the inside of the store was even smaller than it looked outside, barely larger than some of the lecture halls at their university. Food was crammed in the cardboard boxes lining the shelves, refrigerators and freezers built into the back most walls. Compact. That was the right word. Jay was tall enough to see everyone as they shopped, a sea of heads he could monitor. That part was nice.

“Is it always so cold?” he asked as Tim inspected the bread. “It’s almost as cold in here as it is outside.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never worked at a grocery store before. I only come in here once every couple weeks.”

Humming Jay leaned over A package of cookies. Not something he could eat yet. With the overhead lighting beaming down the cookies packaging was bright to the point where it looked almost fake, too shiny, too red, too vibrant. He took a step back. It really had been too long since he’d been to a grocery store.

For the most part it’s fine, even if Jay isn’t very helpful. Tim hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he had a way of doing things. With A surprising meticulousness he crossed each and every entry off his list, bread and chips and even a little bit of fruit. Any attempts at picking something up was met by Tim batting his hands away and a insistence on him not interfering. The part of his brain that he could never fully shut up noticed that it was kind of cute Tim actually could put his foot down when it came to groceries. He might as well notice it because there wasn’t a way he could help Tim outside of trailing behind him, offering up occasional commentary, a court jester, a fool.

No, there isn’t a real problem until they reach the frozen aisle.

Jay hadn’t been wrong about Tim wanting to get frozen food. A decent chunk of the list was little microwave meals they could store in the fridge for Tim to reheat after work, a grand finale to an uneventful shopping trip.

“You should get the taquitos.” said Jay, watching with mild disgust as Tim picked up egg rolls off the shelf. “They’re way better.”

“No, they’re objectively not. They’re gross.” Their conversation lulls to a halt as Tim searches for the least dented box. That’s when Jay hears it, the quiet allowing him to finally notice the sound.

It’s stupid, Jay can recognize that. Most people wouldn’t have A feeling of dread well up in them as soon as they hear the low rumble of the freezers. Most normal people wouldn’t start to sweat, wouldn’t have their heart rate pick up, wouldn’t have to fight the instinctual urge to run and run fast.

It didn’t always sound the same when they saw it. Different encounters had different sounds, different reactions, different distortions. Sometimes it had been high pitched, sometimes low. Sometimes it sounded exactly like the freezers did now, a low horrible drone that settled down deep into Jays bones as he stood there, staring blankly ahead, a deer in the headlights, a fawn, and yes, a fool.
Had it sounded the same after Alex? Maybe. It was so hard to remember.

“You coming Jay?” Tim asks and Jay feels himself nod and walks over to where Tim was queuing up for the checkout line. How much time had he just lost there? When had Tim decided he was done shopping?

For some reason whoever managed the staff here at this accursed Aldi’s had decided to only have two people on cash register. The line is long. In front of them there was an elderly woman talking loudly on the phone with what was likely her niece or nephew. Behind them was a family of four, The toddler already halfway towards screaming. Tim is hunched over the carriage, glancing at Jay as he pulls out his wallet. The sight of him should help. It doesn’t.

“Jay? Are you good?”

Jay nods again. Everything is so horribly loud. The old lady has a niece called Sonia. They want to meet up soon for brunch. The toddler, A boy named Jack screams and cries and begs for remains of Halloween candy displayed by the checkout line. His voice feels like 1000 tiny little knives piercing through the back of Jay’s skull.

The old lady finishes checking out. She and Sonia are having chicken and rice for dinner. A bead of sweat rolls down the back of his neck. Behind him, the toddler continues to scream. His father looks to be just about Jay’s age with brown hair and wide circular glasses. When he reprimands the boy, he does so harshly.

“Can I have the keys? I’ll go grab the car.” Jay hears himself speaking from what felt like a mile away, mumbling something in response to Tim’s question. Whatever he says works because Tim gives him the keys and he takes them, walking, not fleeing out the grocery store.

The entire time Jay feels what might be 1000 eyes on him.

The cold air helps, but there’s still the rattling noises of the carts, the sound of people talking and slamming, and now he does walk faster towards Tim’s shitty little car practically sprinting. As soon as he reaches it he throws himself inside, curling up in the passenger seat as he fights down a wave of nausea.

Pathetic. What was this? Could he really not handle something as simple as grocery shopping? Look at Tim. Tim who needed a list, who went to Aldi’s only because they never changed the layouts of the store, Tim who was objectively worse than Jay. Half the time he didn’t even know what he was doing, so reliant on routine any changes would put him into a tailspin.

But was Jay so different? The thought made him want to throw up.

No, no. He was fine. Just overwhelmed. It was the same in the hospital, too many loud noises and harsh smells making some tiny little animal part of his brain freak out. He was safe now, secure, breathing normally and feeling fine. This was a normal reaction to getting shot by your best friend who may or may not still be out there but who was probably dead. This was fine. He needed to get into the driver’s seat and go pick up Tim. He needed to be OK with driving again. He needed to move.

He doesn't.

The five minutes he has to wait for Tim to finish checking out are akin to torture.

To his credit he doesn’t jump that badly when Tim opens up the trunk.

“What’s gotten into you? Why did you even ask to come if you were going to be running out like that?” Tim asks as soon as he’s seated. Swallowing hard Jay straightens. So, Tim had noticed some of it, but likely not all of it. That was good. He could explain away why he hadn’t gone over to pick him up. He was doing fine. He was doing good. Tim didn’t even look to be that suspicious, just annoyed, not even able to look at Jay, and he probably deserved that.

“Yeah, yeah I’m all right. Just tired. Let’s go home.”

When his phone buzzes again, a call this time not just a text, he immediately turns it off.

Notes:

AAAAAA y’all TYSM for all of the extremely nice comments you have left on the last chapter it really means a lot!!!! I'm starting to get hyper fixated on my own au send help ! My goal is to have a weekly updates moving forward!!

Chapter 3: Encounter

Summary:

Jay has a nightmare. Masky says hello.

Notes:

Trigger warnings:
Nightmare sequence
Jay being ableist/not having the correct knowledge about maskys existence
Jay having some internalized homophobia towards himself

Enjoy y’all Tysm again for the support AAAA :DDD

Out of everything Jay hated about the woods, the smell was the worst.

He hated pretty much everything about the woods, of course. The height of the trees, the crunching of the leaves, the stinging of nettles. But the smell, the smell was what haunted him. Earthy, damp, grassy and green. Unavoidable. Horrible.

If Jay could spend the rest of his life without smelling that again he could die an almost happy man.

It looks like he wouldn’t be dying halfway to happy. It looks like he’s right back where he started, wandering around someplace he shouldn’t be.

Walking without any conscious thought as to where he was going, Jay tightens his fingers around the camera held aloft in his left hand. Why was he here? Where had he gotten the camera? Those were questions that could be answered when he got out. Where he was, now that was an easy answer. Probably Rosswood. When was it not?

One would assume that spending the better part of several years wandering around the woods would mean Jay had a good sense of direction. One would assume wrong. Rosswood was a big park. There were no semi-familiar landmarks to ground himself with nearby, no weird looking plants, no pillars, no hospital. Just a sea of trees he didn’t know the names of, the ground underneath his feet blanketed by a thick carpet of rotting leaves.

That was another thing he hated. In the grassier parts of Rosswood it was easy to see where he was going. No chance for him to trip over a hidden rock or worse, something dead. Out here all he could do was try to stay on the trail and hope for the best. Thankfully it wasn’t that dark out, A full moon shining down on him, a chance to see where he was without having to keep his face pressed against the camera.

Still. No sign of an exit. That wasn’t good.

Continuing to walk Jay cranes his head back. No wonder it was so easy to see. He feels himself come to a halt. The moon was a bright, horrible shining white thing leering down at him, not a single star or cloud obscuring its view. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t supposed to look like that, was it? The moon was supposed to have craters, imperfections. The thing above him is perfectly smooth.

The back of Jay’s throat itches. Nothing makes a sound, no rustling squirrels, no chattering birds. The casing of the camera is cool where it rests against the palm of his hand. He needs to leave.
Turning in a frantic circle the world spins along with him. Where was it? It was here; he knew that. His teeth buzzed, a horrible vibration that curled up, along with his panic, in the back of his throat. A hand wrapped around the base of his lungs and squeezed. He can’t get enough air, can’t breathe. When he falls it comes as no surprise, camera slipping out of his hands as he throws out his hands to break his fall, rolling as he hits the ground.

Vision swimming, he forces himself to look up. Why were the trees swaying? How many branches was a tree supposed to have? Anything and everything he saw could be the creature. Anything but the pair of feet now in front of him, clad in an old pair of sneakers, rendered in such sharp detail Jay realizes just how blurry the rest of the world was. That made sense. Even if he tried there was no way he could forget what those shoes looked like. Off white, covered in so many grass and dirt stains they were almost a grayish green, the laces of the left shoe untied. Come hell or high-water Alex always refused to get a new pair. That had always seemed silly to Jay. Why keep the sneakers? If Alex was so intent on torching every single part of his life why keep them out of the pyre?

Jay does not need to hear the gunshot to know what happens next.

The last vestiges of his scream dying in his throat, Jay jerks forward. Shit, shit, shit. Where was he? Where was Alex? Looking around he frantically pats at his side. No camera. No Rosswood. No blood. Only his hotel room with its closed curtains, the dull red light of the clock and a cough that forces its way out of his mouth as he realizes he’s safe. One of his hands instinctually comes up to try and stifle himself.

He lets it pass through him. The coughing, the shaking, all of it, the prerequisite roadblocks to pulling himself back together. It takes longer than it should. But Jay manages, counting the individual tiny dots stippling the ceiling, getting to about 213 before his breathing levels out. Better than last time, yet still annoying and humiliating in equal measure.

And infuriatingly common. Most nights these days ended in nightmares. Resting a hand on top his chest he feels his heart race, cooling sweat making the skin of his collarbone feel tacky. What would Dr. Stevens say about it? Some bullshit analysis about how Alex represented his father or that the woods were a metaphor for his repressed trauma, probably. That last part might be correct if he one had trauma and two was actively repressing it. He wasn’t Tim. Everything that had happened wasn’t something he was ready to just forget about.
What a joke. The only person who could conceivably come close to understanding what he had been through was-

Wait a second. Where was Tim?

As soon as the thought crosses Jays mind the doorknob turns. Tim had been out having a smoke and had missed everything. What a relief. The last thing Jay wanted to do right now was explain why he shrieked loud enough to wake up the floors above and below them. He rolls towards the window, away from the door. If he pretended to be asleep then they could avoid having any more awkward conversations.

Especially not so late. Now that he was facing the clock he could see that it was about 3:00 AM. Definitely not the right time to talk about Alex. Come to think of it, why was Tim up? Weird that he was having a smoke at this hour, especially when he was trying to quit. Was something wrong? Jay grimaced. Nightmares were not conducive to consoling his friend. Tim wouldn’t ignore him, though. Tim would try and help. Gritting his teeth, Jay turned back around, trying his best to adopt a neutral expression. Best comes to best Tim had just fallen prey to a particularly strong craving. Worse comes to worse, they could commiserate about how miserable they both felt.

He’s greeted by the sight of Tim’s emotionless face barely a few inches above his own.

“Jesus Christ!”

What happens next isn’t graceful. Like a fish on land Jay flails, one elbow slamming into the nightstand, the other colliding with Tim’s arm. He curses once, then twice, only avoiding a fall by sheer luck alone. Elbows aching, he tries to compose himself.

All the while Masky watches silently, not acknowledging the pain he must be feeling or Jay in the slightest.

“What are you doing?” Jay spits out, ending up in a half upright position. He looked like an idiot, he was sure of that, but right now it didn’t matter. “When did you show up?”

Predictably, Masky is completely silent, barely visible in the darkened room. There was no way for Jay to tell what he was thinking. That God awful little freak never spoke, hell, he didn’t even seem to be capable of moving the muscles on his face. Still, Jay had a pretty decent idea on what Masky wanted to do. It was all he ever wanted to do. Taunt Jay. Either that or rush Jay like a feral animal. Maybe he should be grateful that all Masky was doing was staring at him like a cat watching a fish bowl.

Who was Jay kidding? There was nothing to be grateful for, even if It was a unprecedented opportunity to study Masky. Given how erratic he always was there hadn’t been many chances for he and Jay to interact peacefully. He wasn’t like Tim, not really. Part of that was interesting. Part of that was terrifying. For the entire duration of the time when he was in control Tim was completely unaware, gone someplace Jay had no hope of reaching him. In his place was a man whose motives Jay still couldn’t understand. A man who, try as he might, Tim could not get to go away.

Whatever. If Masky wanted to spend the night standing there staring at Jay then Jay could spend the night sitting there staring at Masky. And he was still standing there, dull eyes trained on Jay. Creepy. If Jay had been cognizant at the time he probably would have kept Tim from throwing out the mask. Maybe that’s why he was acting up.

“I don’t know why you’re here but if you want help with the TV remote I can show you how to turn on the TV.” Jay said, settling some. He wasn’t about to give the bastard the satisfaction of a reaction. Well, not any more of A reaction. “I’m not going to be screaming again tonight if that’s what your here for.” he continues, words catching as Masky suddenly moves.

Oh no. This might not be a watch Jay sleep night but instead a drag Jay out into the middle of the nowhere night.

Flinching, he lets out another squeak of pain, head hitting the backboard. Jay felt like a cornered animal, far too aware of the difference in strength between him and his pursuer. In response Masky tilts his head to the side, turns his hand until it’s a flat, an open palm, hovering just about halfway over the bed. He doesn’t move any further. For a couple of minutes they sit there silently. Odd. Like this Jay could categorize each and every detail of Masky’s appearance, hair sloppily styled, wearing one of Tim’s red shirts, lips curled into a seemingly permanent frown. Would he smile if he could? Jay thought so. Sad that he couldn’t do it anymore.

Slowly, carefully he reaches his hand out and places it on top of the other man’s. Their hand is cold and calloused. Some of it was from the ukulele. Most of it was from work. Did Masky like the ukulele? Could he play? Maybe Jay wasn’t pathetic for having panic attack inducing nightmares, but he was for the comfort he felt at that simple touch, having someone, anyone not repelled by him. Fingers twitching, he fights the urge to intertwine their fingers. It was disgusting. The revulsion he felt at that couldn’t compare to the feeling of loss as Masky pulls away.

“What?”

Masky turns his hand, one finger coming up to his lips. The message was clear. Stop shouting.

OK. That was stupid. Hadn’t he made it clear he was fine now? Jay watched as Masky retreated, the movement far too fluid to be mistaken for Tim. Tim took up space. Tim struggled with their leg in a way he couldn’t hide. But Masky? Masky moved with a sense of grace, effortlessly navigating a dark room that would result in several bruises for Tim. Limping, yes, but ignoring it as best he could as he sits on the chair in the corner.

Better he sit then try and climb the wardrobe. He hadn’t managed to break anything yet, but Jay had very little faith that would last.

What was the message here? What was Masky really trying to say? Jay didn’t know. At this point he didn’t care. Until Tim had another seizure, which would happen quickly considering Masky didn’t feel inclined to take any of his meds, they would just have to coexist for a few hours.

Besides, Jay thinks as allowing his head to fall against the pillow, it wasn’t like Masky was scary anymore. Knocking him out, dragging him around, chasing him? That didn’t measure up against attempted murder. So what if Masky wanted to kidnap him? What was he going to do tomorrow? Sit around the hotel room and resist the urge to browse Internet forums? No. As long as Tim was able to keep working Masky could do whatever the hell he wanted.

Slowly, his breathing evens out. He focuses on that, on the ridiculous thought of Masky actually attempting to work instead of lurking around stalking people all day. Giving him access to power tools would not end well, Jay was sure of it, even if it might have resulted in him missing out on the wonderful opportunity of getting shot. If Tim had been fired for missing work he definitely would have been fired and also arrested for whatever Masky would do with a drill. He might want to wear the hard hat though. Was a hard hat equivalent at all to mask? Would Masky try and build anything?

What he’s thinking about is stupid, Jay knows it, but it’s preferable to acknowledging the sense of security he felt just having Masky in the room. Already it was so much better than before. A wonderful, almost cloying sense of calm that filled him just knowing the other man was there. It was only comparable to the sense of calm he felt with Tim. Nope. He wasn’t looking too closely at that.

Maybe it wasn’t entirely nonsense, he thinks as he yawns. With Masky there it wasn’t likely anyone would be able to hurt him. He’d grab Jay if that thing showed up and full body tackle Alex to the floor if he managed to barge down the door. For now, he was safe. It was silly to feel like that, right? Maybe. Maybe the simple fact of the matter was that he couldn’t hate any part of Tim no matter how scary, no matter what he did.

When he wakes up Tim is still asleep in the chair. He looks peaceful, chin tucked down towards his chest, dark circles that always seemed to be underneath his eyes just a little less dark.

Jay manages not to wake him as he drapes his blanket over Tim’s shoulders.

Chapter 4: Change

Summary:

Jay uses Google. Tim goes to work
(Thank you to SkeletoninUrCloset for betaing I owe you my life!!!)

Notes:

Trigger warnings:
Internet stalking

If Jay had been thinking clearly he would have expected this.

”I understand sir, I really do.” Fake sympathy practically drips from every word that comes out the mouth of the man behind the front desk. “It is an inconvenience, but unfortunately we are going to have to ask that you find somewhere else to stay.”

“Find somewhere else to stay? What are you talking about?” There isn’t any condescension in Tim’s voice, only the low gravelly pitch that came with mornings. It was a sound Jay usually relished in, a sound he selfishly thought of as just for him.

“After last night, we at the Marriott feel it’s not fair to our other guests to extend your stay.”

“After last night?” Tim repeats, head cocked slightly to the side. “We didn’t do anything last night, we just I don’t know, slept.”

”Screaming loud enough to wake up the people staying on the corresponding floors is unfortunately causing a problem sir, especially because this is not the first complaint we’ve had regarding you.”

Behind Tim Jay winces. This was supposed to be a rundown to the gas station to buy Tim snacks, nothing more, nothing less. They weren’t supposed to be getting kicked out, called over to the front desk by some cheery faced nobody before they could get out the door. Tim hadn’t even had his coffee yet. Looks like it was time for him to step in.

“You do realize that there’s been of like 5 or 6 nights where we were the ones who couldn’t sleep?” Jay said, allowing some of his own irritation to creep into his voice as he stepped around Tim. As much as he loved his friend, Tim wasn’t the right person to be having this conversation. “Last week there was a Little League team that stayed up until 3:00 AM throwing a party. Tim had to call out from work. Room 300 smokes weed when this hotel supposedly has a strict no smoking policy. Don’t get me started about what happens when there’s a wedding. It isn’t like this is some sort of fancy hotel. Why are you singling us out?”

“I assure you that I’m not trying to single out anybody sir, and we’re not talking about any of the other guests. We’re talking about the two of you.”

”You’re talking out of your ass.” Tim mutters underneath his breath, shoulders tensing, and that wasn’t good. Jay’s fingers twitch, closing around a camera that isn’t there. If things were different, if it was like it was before, then he could have posted this all over the Internet. Then everyone would be able to see how ridiculously unfair it all was. Who was this guy anyways, with his slicked back hair and his shiny white teeth? His name tag read Jameson. Who named their child Jameson?

“Tim’s right, it’s not like we- I did anything wrong. I have nightmares. What do you want me to do, not sleep?” He says through gritted teeth. “Loud noises happen. It’s a hotel, this sort of thing is normal, and It’s not like I can really help it.”

“And this isn’t something that I can help either. I’m not the one who made this decision.”

“Who made it then?”

“This is a decision made by my manager.”

Oh please. Jay found that about as believable as Jameson having an ounce of compassion in his hair gel soaked head.

“Fine. Let me speak to your manager. If you don’t have any actual power then I don’t know why I’m talking to you.”

“Jay.” Tim says, warning clear in his tone, which Jay promptly ignores.

“I’m afraid my manager isn’t in today.”

“Then we shouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

“I can give you her number, if you would like to call her to get this resolved after you leave?”

“How are we supposed to know that any of this is true? We don’t know if your manager said that. You could be lying.” Did hotels kick people out for screaming? That couldn’t be legal, could it? Maybe Jameson had some secret reason to hate the two of them, some connection to Alex or Brian or Jessica or any of the people that he had inevitably fucked over. He didn’t even seem perturbed by their argument, standing there all rigid with a plastic expression on his face, resembling a Ken doll more than a real person.

“Sir, again, I’m going to have to ask you to leave and for you to calm down. You’re behaving inappropriately and I don’t appreciate having my honesty being called into question.”

“Who said we’re leaving?” Jay squared his shoulders back. What a joke. Out of the three of them he was the one behaving the most appropriately.

“I said so. You and your friend can get your bags, or I can call security and they can get your bags for you. Whatever you would prefer, although I would personally recommend the first option.” Jameson says, all fake cheer. In that moment Jay realizes that this might be the worst person he’s ever met. Hopefully Alex was right and they were vectors for the creature. If there was anyone in the world who deserved to be stalked by an otherworldly entity, it was Jameson. But before he can say anything else, Tim steps in.

“Whatever. Come on Jay. We’ll go get our stuff.” Tim’s hand closes around his elbow, pulling Jay back, and he resists for a moment, wanting to stay, wanting to fight. But when he turns to insist on that he catches side of Tim’s face and all of his resolve immediately crumbles. It wasn’t a pleasant expression. Tim’s eyebrows are scrunched together, mouth drawn up into a tight frown, the lines on his face turned sharp and deep. Worry. Jay’s pretty sure it’s worry, whether it’s for him or for Jameson it doesn’t matter. After everything it’s more than enough to throw him off.

“Tim, he can’t just treat us like that.” he says weakly, already knowing he’s lost.

“Jay. Can we please just go? I don’t have the energy for this.”

Did he mean the situation or Jay? It was hard to tell.

They get their things.

Jay also gets the manager’s number along with a glare from Jameson, which was the cherry on top of this awful morning. Where did Jameson get off thinking his glare would bother Jay? Jay was sickly, and unemployed, and technically entirely dependent on a man whose life he explicitly did in fact ruin, but at least he wasn’t a front desk associate. Putting associate at the end of A job title did not change the fact that it was menial labor meant for idiots and morons. Jameson was both an idiot and a moron, so in that regard he was actually a good fit for the job, much as Jay was loath to admit it.

Not that any of it matters. Like it or not, the two of them were on the move again.

 

“What about the Motel 6 off of Route 2? It’s right next to a Domino’s.”

“Oh yeah. We can enjoy mediocre pizza with A fresh side of bed bugs. Great option Jay.”

“Shut up. I don’t see you trying to figure anything else.”

“I don’t see you driving us around. What do you expect me to do, pull over on the side of the highway so I can help find another shit hole that’ll probably kick us out sooner rather than later?”

Fair point, but it wasn’t like Jay was about to concede it. He felt horribly wound up, a spring about to snap, and Tim looked to be much the same way, keeping a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel as they drove to nowhere. “You could at least try not to shoot down every single one of my ideas.”

“You just suggested that we stayed at a Motel 6.”

“Because we don’t have enough money to stay anywhere nicer.”

That was the uncomfortable truth. With only Tim’s salary to support them and the looming fact that both of their previous homes had burned down, finding a place to stay was next to possible, let alone getting an apartment. Jay didn’t even want to know what would come up if someone did a background check on either of them. That meant hotels, and hotels only, for now. Tim had said something about trying to apply for assisted housing, but Jay had no idea how that worked, and Tim had been too busy to look into it properly.

There was an obvious solution to their problem. Open up his messages, turn his phone off do not disturb, make a phone call. Either that or try and get a job, which was also an issue due to the aforementioned background check. Neither seemed like a plausible, or even possible option.

“Look. I don’t care where we stay. I just don’t want to get bed bugs again.” Tim says, the closest to an apology Jay was likely to get. He accepts it with as much grace as he is able, glancing at the clock. 8: 13. Tim had work at 9:30. They had to find a solution, and find one fast.

“OK. It’s not like I want to deal with them either.”
He returns his attention to his phone, resuming scrolling through what came up when he searched local hotels. Another set of limitations. They needed something within a 10-mile radius of Tim’s job and both of their doctors. Excluding places that shouldn’t be looked at underneath a black light and anywhere they’ve already been kicked out of didn’t leave much. Why were twin rooms so expensive anyways? All the ones that were coming up were easily about double the price of their king-sized counterparts. The price increase didn’t make any sense. They were as big as a king room, just with another bed, and king size rooms almost always had a pullout or a couch. Wait. The gears in Jay’s brain slowly turned before grinding to a halt.

“What if we just shared a king size bedroom?”

Tim doesn’t so much as jerk the steering wheel but angle his head away from the road, staring at Jay from the corners of his eyes. “Listen, Jay, I don’t really think that that’s a-”

“There’s usually a pull out or a couch, right? I don’t know. One of us could sleep on that?” Normally Jay was immune to things like embarrassment, having been described by all who knew him as a little bit dense. He was not immune right now, and he considered opening up the door and rolling down the embankment into the river they were passing by. Count on Tim to misunderstand a completely reasonable suggestion. Share a bed. In what world would he suggest that? Thankfully Tim doesn’t press the point.

“Oh. Are you OK with sleeping on the couch?”

“Who said I was going to be the one sleeping on the couch?” Rather than attempt to drown himself, Jay returns his focus to his phone. What did Tim know? It wasn’t like it would be that different from their current setup. There. An option on the first page of results, found using his excellent research skills. Sunset suites. 3 ½ stars on Google reviews, no mentions of bedbugs on Yelp. $50 a night when booking for a long-term stay. The exact sort of mediocre dump that suited the two of them perfectly. “Do you want to do this or what, because I don’t think I’m going to find a place where we can stay otherwise.”

“Fine by me, but I get the bed. I have a bad leg.”

“I was shot in the kidney.” Is that what they were doing? Dryly comparing which one of them actually deserved the privilege of sleeping on a bed? He wasn’t going to let Tim win that game.

“I have a job.”

Jay puts the address into Google Maps. They could argue about this later, maybe take turns on the bed. One thing was for certain. He would not be the first person to sleep on the couch, not when he was the one to come up with such a brilliant idea, not Tim. That more than made up for the fact that he had technically been the one to get them kicked out of their previous hotel. Really if you thought about it, he was kind of a genius. Definitely more of a problem solver than Tim could ever hope to be.

 

Jay was a moron and a fool, a creature of hubris, an Icarus whose wings had melted off leaving him to plunge into the cold, mortifying pit of the sea.

Sunshine suites had started off fine. They had checked in, paid for a month’s stay with the last of their savings, and carried most of their stuff to their room before Tim had to leave for work. Situated on the 3rd floor, the location wasn’t ideal considering everything that had happened when he had met Jessica, but it was mostly fine. The person who chased Jay down flights of hotel stairs was now the person who peacefully watched him sleep. Jay could be normal about this. He had settled himself in and said goodbye to Tim, feeling what he always felt when Tim went to work, before busying himself in dealing with unpacking.

And he had dealt with it, mostly. Shoved their suitcases and duffel bags into the closet, actually took a shower, actually took his meds. Sure, he didn’t eat, but two out of three was better than most days. All of that was fine. The problem had arisen when it came time to fill the rest of his day.

When he had the channel the days slipped through his fingers. Pour over footage, communicate with his viewers, rewatch every totheark video to try and understand whatever was going on there, have a panic attack, eat a bunch of fast food, have another panic attack and then go to bed. Occasionally he’d go outside, and that excursion would result in getting chased by supernatural horrors beyond his comprehension or stalking someone. Overall, a very effective way to fill his time.

Now, all of that was no longer an option. Jay didn’t use the channel anymore, didn’t keep a camera, didn’t poke the bear. There were no viewers to talk to, no places he could go, no creature that was currently stalking him, as long as you didn’t count Masky. He couldn’t even eat fast food anymore, not without destroying what was left of his stomach. Sure, he could have a panic attack, but that only took up so much time.

Jay had stared at the tiny hotel room, at its lumpy looking bed and even lumpier looking chair, at the curtains he had drawn close as soon as they had unlocked the door, at a TV that was at least a decade old and felt A very familiar dread.

It wasn’t like he had intended to fall down a rabbit hole.

And it wasn’t like Jay didn’t have his reasons. Jameson had been targeting them and he had to know the reason why. If he didn’t want Jay to find his address, he shouldn’t have been rude and also have it available on his LinkedIn. Jameson Smith was a man of many faults and his internet safety-based hubris was his undoing. Out of all the things he was good at, Jay’s greatest skill was his ability to research, his capability to sniff out every last crumb of information like a Bloodhound brought out of early retirement. Getting kicked out didn’t matter. Everything that happened didn’t matter. He knew things he probably shouldn’t, and God did it feel good.

But no amount of knowing Jameson’s fantasy football team could erase the rush of pain that hits him as soon as he moves out of his hunched over position, nor the panic he feels as he hears the door open.

Jay has enough time to slam the laptop shut, glancing over the clock to see that yes, 8 hours had indeed passed, before Tim is bustling into the room, a mess of cold flushed cheeks, car keys and overstuffed work bag.

“Tim. You’re home” As he speaks Jay realizes how parched his throat is, tongue feeling like a rough chunk of sandpaper. OK. This was potentially bad. He didn’t love the idea of Tim knowing how he had spent his day. There already had been enough heated conversations about Jay’s penchant for stalking, not that Tim understood the necessity behind his actions. Yes, it was imperative Tim didn’t find out. Jay needed to get up, shake the numbness out of his legs, drink some water, and potentially ask about Tim’s day as a distraction.

“Hey.” Tim answers, most of his attention on his phone. Good. He’s already distracted. Jay takes the moment to frantically shove his laptop underneath the pillow. There. Evidence of his subjective crime successfully hidden it was time for his next task, dry swallowing several of his pills while Tim hung up his jacket. So far so good. Jays just about to move on to the next part of his hastily constructed plan, trying to move his legs without falling off the bed, when Tim turns around and Jay catches sight of his face.

“What is it?” Tim asked.

“I… How was your day at work?” Jay asks hesitantly. It didn’t take a genius to see that Tim looked exhausted. There was a slump to his shoulders, a small new stain on the breast pocket of his shirt, and his hair, which he usually kept extremely careful care of, was practically wilting over his forehead. “You don’t look good.”

“Thanks Jay.”

“I mean you normally look fine.” Tim usually looked more than fine but that wasn’t the right thing to say right now. Was that mustard or soda? “I don’t know you just. You just don’t look good right now.”

“Again, thanks. You really know how to make a guy feel better.” Tim moves to sit next to him, the bed shifting underneath his weight, and Jay fights the familiar urge to reach out and take his hand. “It’s been a long day.”

Jay also barely restrains the urge to tell him about the evidence he found of Jameson’s cheating on his girlfriend in favor of trying to look supportive as he nods. Maybe all of the therapy was paying off.

“Usually I’m in the back stocking and that’s fine, but they had me on register today and it was awful. I don’t do good on register, and I don’t know the last time any of the software or whatever It’s called was updated but none of it makes any sense. You can’t ring in a shirt no, that would be too simple, you have to press a bunch of buttons and I can’t understand why they don’t-… Hey, Jay?”

“What?” Why had Tim stopped talking? It wasn’t like he could have noticed the laptop, he wasn’t anywhere near the pillows. No, he was just sitting extremely close to Jay, close enough that Jay could feel the heat from his body as Tim looked away from him and toward the corner of the room, which doesn’t make any sense because there wasn’t anything to see there besides the awful looking recliner.

“Where’s the pull out?”

Well, shit.

“I guess this room doesn’t come with a pull out.”

Jay can hear the exact expletives Tim tries not to say. “Why didn’t you go and explain we needed a different room?”

“I didn’t notice there wasn’t a pullout Tim.” Jay really did need to get up. His legs felt horrible, tiny little pinprick stabs of pain shooting up from his feet into his hips, making it hard to fully focus on Tim’s growing annoyance.

“How did you not realize that?” Tim asked, his voice taking on an almost hysterical edge as he gestured over towards the nonexistent couch.
Jay didn't know. He had probably seen the chair, registered that there was a piece of furniture in the place where a couch usually was, and assumed everything was just peachy before immediately getting to work internet stalking a stranger.

In retrospect that had not been the best of ideas.

“I don’t know. I just didn’t.” He says, not caring how defensive he sounded. Tim was the one freaking out here, not him, making an aborted move to get up before leaning back, running a hand over his face.

“You were in the room all day I can’t- you know what? I don’t even care. We can deal with it tomorrow.”

“What do you mean deal with it tomorrow? We need to sleep. Shouldn’t we tell them we need to switch rooms?” What was Tim talking about? Why was he still sitting there instead of getting up to fix the problem?

“Yeah, we should. Tomorrow. I’m tired Jay. I’m not doing that tonight.” Their shoulders are touching now, a thin layer of cotton the only thing separating their arms, and that was making it very hard to focus on the words coming out of his mouth. “Besides, it’s not going to be easy to move our stuff. If you want to be the one to move all of our bags you can go ahead and ask for a new room.”

“You were the one saying that I couldn’t lift anything at the grocery store the other week.”

Tim gives him a look then, A look that very clearly said how likely he found the idea of Jay attempting to move anything, and sets about untying his shoes.

“What are we supposed to do tonight?” Righteous indignation was never good for him, but what had Tim expected? It was better than focusing on their proximity. “Just because I didn’t notice there wasn’t a couch, I’m supposed to sleep on the floor?”

“Jesus Jay, I’m not suggesting that you sleep on the floor.”

“What are you suggesting then? You shouldn’t be sleeping on the floor either Tim, you’re the one who complains to me every day about how bad his leg hurts.”

“Oh my God. We can just share the bed tonight.” Immediately every single wire in Jay’s brain short circuits, every possible argument dying on his lips. Predictably, Tim doesn’t notice, an actual miracle considering how flushed his face probably was. “It doesn’t need to be a huge issue.”

“I-” What was he supposed to say to that? Jay had no idea.

“Good. Problem solved. God knows I’ve been doing that all day. I’m going to go take a shower, OK? Did you at least check to see if the water pressure’s decent?”

Jay continues to falter, unable to catch up to the inane question about water pressure. Had Tim really suggested they share a bed? That was a normal suggestion that in any other circumstance with any other people would be unremarkable. And to Tim it probably was. Jay was just his friend, nothing more, nothing less. Friends sometimes shared a bed. It didn’t have to be weird. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

If only he and Tim were on the same page. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad to make Tim sleep on the floor. Some people said that it was good for their backs, and the same principle likely applied to lingering leg pain. Swallowing hard he watches as Tim gets up, his movement sluggish, and any and every argument Jay could make disappeared. Tim was in pain, and he has the sudden horrible realization that that mattered more to him than any potential embarrassment. Before he can think up a counter idea Tim is already gone, the sound of the bathroom shower turning on, the door shut.

Shit. It was going to be a long night.

Notes:

Ty for reading y’all!! This chapter kicked my ass but I'm actually really liking the next one!!! Ty again to Java for betaing

Chapter 5: spill the tea

Summary:

Tim fulfills a childhood dream. Jay drinks some tea.

Notes:

trigger warnings
Typical Jay being a weird little freak about Tim and his mental illness
disassociative episode

“Do you really need that many pillows?”

“Shut up Tim.” Jay snips, trying his best to tune out the sound of his friend’s voice as he fiddles with the pillows. Now is not the time for Tim’s snark. Now was the time to focus.

“Are those the extra sheets? What the hell are you doing, trying to build some kind of shitty wall?”

That was exactly what Jay was trying to do, minus the shitty part, and failing at miserably. Not that it was his fault. The lack of a couch offered up more problems than initially thought. No couch meant no extra pillows meant no real way to form any sort of barricade between him and Tim, a necessity if he wanted to make it out of tonight with his dignity intact. As part of that likely futile effort Jay decides to keep his mouth shut. Someone had to be the bigger person.

“OK. Don’t tell me. That’s fine. Play builder all you want, but I’m taking this.” Tim said, snatching up one of the pillows from the top of pile, a small smile on the edge of his lips. “A word of advice? That doesn’t look structurally sound.”

“Hey!” Trying and failing to snatch the pillow back Jay settles on crossing his arms over his chest, momentarily stopping his proverbial bricklaying and allowing a bit of a petulant whine to creep into his voice. “What do you know? I think that I’m doing a great job.”

“I worked in construction for about 7 years so I would say a pretty decent amount. But no, you’re right, what do I know? The real expert here is the man who got a degree in film.”

“A degree in videography and English Tim.”

“My apologies. I forgot about your English degree. That definitely makes you qualified to construct the Great Wall of Sunshine Suits.”

Briefly, Jay considers taking one of the pillows and throwing it at Tim’s face. The only thing that stops him is the likelihood that the removal of any more of his makeshift bricks will cause the whole thing to collapse. Instead, he glares at Tim who’s smiling now, fidgeting with the edge of his shirt. What did he know? It wasn’t like he had been trying to get a degree in architecture or anything. So what if he technically had experience? That didn’t disqualify Jay from being able to make something. He opens his mouth to tell Tim that and-

One of the towels he had carefully stuffed in between the chair’s cushion and the bed’s headboard flops out, a bulging entrail, and before he knows it the entire thing has collapsed into a pile of cheap fabric and failed dreams, leaving him standing there with his rebuttal dying on his lips.

“Goddamnit.”

“What’s wrong Jay? You’re not going to say a sonnet to fix it?”

He does throw the pillow at Tim as soon as the laugh leaves his stupid, handsome lips.

That, primarily, was the problem Jay thinks as he dodges Tims returning missile. Jay was under no real delusions about how this night would go. The two of them would go to sleep and then wake up, things hopefully just as they always were. But what if they weren’t? What if he made a fool of himself, or did something horrible like the worst case scenario: attempting to cuddle Tim in his sleep like awful protagonist in a 3rd rate romance novel? Internally he curses himself for allowing Alex to talk him into reading that schlock. Maybe he should revive his twitter and post about it online. Suitable punishment for attempted murder. Alex’s reputation would never recover.

Running a finger over the pillow in his hands Jay considers it as Tim comes to stand on the opposite side of the bed, still smiling as he speaks, a minor miracle considering just how tired he must be.

“Alright Bob the Builder, are you going to lie down or are you just going to keep sulking?”

“I’m not sulking.” Jay says, very clearly not sulking.

“OK. Sure.” Pulling back the covers Tim settles himself in, demolishing the very last bits of Jay’s effort in favor of using the last pillow to prop up his head. Jay tries to feel annoyed and fails. It was hard to be that mad considering what he was seeing on top of that pillow. Tim’s dark, black hair, soft and fluffy after his shower, immediately obliterates any and every other thought in Jay’s head.

Oh, what the hell. For a brief indulgent moment he’ll surely regret later, he allows himself to just look. There is no real undercurrent of anxiety running through his friend, nothing other than the ever-present exhaustion, his T shirt peeking out from underneath the covers, the corner of his eyes crinkling just so as he looks back at Jay. And his smile. God his smile. It was credit to the inescapable sway of the chase that it took Jay so long to realize how much he loved seeing that smile, always crooked, accented by the stubble dusting the edges of Tim’s cheeks and his missing canine. Had anyone else ever seen Tim like this? Probably not. If they had Tim wouldn’t still be here.

Suddenly the carpet seemed a lot more appealing. “Come on you weirdo, go to bed.” Raising his hand Tim gestures for Jay to turn off the lights.

Just one night. That was all. He does as he is told and turns off the room’s light, the only source of illumination now the warm yellow glow of the bedside lamp. Jay blinks. The entire feeling of the room had changed. Before it had looked awful. Cheap 90s carpet, grungy yellow walls, chipped furniture, the aesthetic not helped by the sharp light of the fluorescent light bulb. But now everything seemed soft, the edges of reality smoothed out. The same furnishings that had looked tacky not a minute before now appeared downright cozy, and Jay finds himself struggling to re contextualize it all. Everything was different. Everything but Tim.

Climbing into bed he tries to keep himself as close to the edge as possible as Tim lets out a huff of acknowledgment. Jay wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. He keeps his eyes resolutely on the curtains. It had been so much easier when his greatest concern had been answers and Alex.

This isn’t that bad, he tells himself. Scooched so far away Jay can’t even really register Tim outside of his breathing, the horrible, wonderful realization that they were so close making him draw his knees up tight toward his chest. But that wasn’t anything new. Tim had taken care of him when he was sick, dragged his bleeding body to the hospital, always there to help no matter what Jay did. Maybe it would be worth it to bring this up to Dr. Stevens if only to find a way to kill this stupid attraction.

“I’m sorry that he scared you.” He jolts as Tim breaks the silence, and OK maybe being so close to the edge of the bed wasn’t a good idea. Reluctantly he shifts closer, wrapping the cheap comforter tight around his shoulders.

“What?”

“You know. Him. I’m sorry that he scared you. We can get everything started out tomorrow, OK? I just don’t have it in me right now.”

Oh. That’s what Tim thought. That Jay had some sort of beef with Masky. Shaking his head Jay considers turning around to face Tim. No. Best not. Looking at him right now would be disastrous.

“Tim, it’s fine. I told you he didn’t do anything.” He says instead, trying to put as much empathize as he can into his words, feeling like an inexperienced actor.

It doesn’t sound like Tim believes him. “Yeah. Nothing except staring at you like a weirdo and whatever he was doing outside. That probably felt great.”

“That’s not that bad considering him, Tim.”

His eyes drift down away from the curtains towards the lamp. It was old, porcelain, the sort of thing you would find at your grandma’s house once her pension ran out and she had to sell her good furniture. “Yeah. I guess.”

“I don’t know what he was doing Tim. Maybe he was just smoking.” Wait. That was probably true. His detective instinct truly knew no bounds. The next time Masky was around he’d have to try and follow him. “The two of you have the same body, he’s experiencing the same withdrawals.”

“Jesus. I didn’t think about that.”

“I know you didn’t. Next time remember to take your medication.”

“You should not be the one lecturing me about this. Did you even remember to take yours?”

“Yes, Tim I did.” The lie passes easily through his lips. “Are we actually going to sleep or are we going keep talking like we’re at a sleepover?”

“Don’t come crying to me when your stomach hurts Jay.”

As the conversation lulls Jay can’t help but smile for reasons he can’t quite understand. Was Tim smiling too? He shuffles a little bit closer. It was funny to imagine Masky smoking a cigarette. Was he even interested in such banal things, or was the act of feeding an addiction beneath him? Jay was just about to turn the lamp off when Tim speaks again.

” You ever have a sleepover before?” He does sound sleepy, slurring the ends of his words. It would be adorable if his question wasn’t so stupid.

“What are we, 10 or 27?”

“I’m not talking about recently I just- I don’t know. When you were a kid. Popcorn and movies and all of that.”

Jay considers this. “No. Why would I?”

“I don’t know. Sounds like fun.”

“What’s fun about a bunch of screaming children in your space?” Jay shudders. Children had sticky hands and a tendency to scream rather than speak. Even when he was younger he hadn’t enjoyed the company of his peers.

“Fine, fine. Did you ever go over to someone else’s house? That wouldn’t be so bad, right?”

Jay frowns. “I wouldn’t know. I never got invited to anything like that.”

“Oh. I mean, me neither.”

“I knew that Tim.”

“You and practically the rest of the world.”

“Oh, shut up. We’re having a sleepover now. Do you want me to get you popcorn?”

“No. I’d feel bad about eating something you can’t in front of you.”

“Thanks Tim.” Jay says dryly, swallowing as Tim accidentally leans back. “Why are you talking like you’ve never done anything like this before anyways? You went to college. I swear I stayed at your house a couple times.”

“Yeah. I guess. I don’t really remember much of it.”

Neither did Jay. But now wasn’t the time to talk about that, not when Tim’s breathing was slowing, sleep starting to take hold of him. “Have you forgotten the past year then? There’s your stupid sleepover.”

“Shit. You’re right. My younger self would be so proud.” Tim says, settling so close to Jay that they were nearly touching. “Let’s skip the talking all night part. I’m getting tired.”

“OK” Leaning over the dresser Jay turns off the lamp, careless in his movements. They’re touching now, his elbow against Tim’s back, Tim’s leg against his calf. Neither of them attempt to move. It was nice, Jay realizes with a horrible lurching feeling. God was it nice to be so close to someone.

Depending on how you looked at it, it was either a small miracle or a curse sleep takes Jay so quickly.

 

A sleep that lasts all of a couple hours.

It goes as one would expect. A familiar song and dance that triggers as soon as his eyes open. Panic, confusion, realization as to where he is. A terrible banality. The only thing that’s different from usual is the other person in his bed.

He’s also not paralyzed. Outside the usual stress that came from waking he feels OK actually, blinking at the popcorn ceiling with a surprising amount of clarity. Shaking his head, Jay pushes himself up on his elbows. He sees nothing out of place, the room looking as it had before. What had woken him up? Maybe he just wasn’t used to sleeping next to someone else he thinks, gaze drifting toward Tim. Nothing interesting there. Still Tim, lying farther away from him now.

Wait. As Jay watches Tim makes a noise, and that was it, wasn’t it?

Immediately he flicks on the lamp, eyes smarting from the sudden flash of light. Tim makes another noise, and now that Jay is actually listening It’s easy to tell that it’s a whimper. What should he do here? Hesitantly Jay reaches a hand out, placing a hand on Tim’s shoulder to try and pull the other man towards him, hissing out Tim’s name, a sickening feeling of relief overpowering the worry. That kind of made sense, didn’t it? This was how it was supposed to go. One of them falling apart while the other cut themselves on the pieces, not quiet conversations or moments of reflection, a predictable pattern, something he knew how to do. This time it was Tim caught up in some horrible nightmare, his eyebrows scrunched together, moving, waking up, and Jay can’t quite tell if its happiness he feels or disappointment before Tim rears back and punches him in the nose.

“Shit!”

Like a wounded animal Jay clutches at his face, flinging himself backwards with a cry.

Backwards, coincidentally enough, means that while he’s scrambling away from Tim, he’s also launching himself off the bed. He will not think about what happens next later, not the feeling of the carpet against his cheek, or the crunching feeling in his shoulder as he hits the ground, or the humiliating couple of seconds it takes for him to actually get on his feet.

All the while Tim does not move.

“What the fuck? I was trying to help you and you- you punched me!” He spits out, glaring at Tim over the edges of his fingers, heart racing a rapid rabbit beat in his chest. Tim who still didn’t respond, who was just sitting there, staring at nothing “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

None of what he says seems to register. Now that Jay wasn’t busy getting punched or falling he could see Tim’s face clearly, the sheer wrongness of it stopping any potential rant in its tracks. Tim was still staring at him blankly, mouth half open, blinking slowly, pupils dilated into tiny slits. Was it…? No. Jay didn’t think so. He’d be able to tell by now if it was. But it’s still not Tim, not all of him anyways. Slowly Jay lowers his hands, placing one against the wall to steady himself. OK. This was a problem. Wherever Tim was right now it wasn’t here. Maybe it was back in the place that had caused him to whimper. Maybe it was nowhere at all.

“Tim?” Jay says again, hesitantly reaching out a hand before drawing it back. Now that Jay wasn’t touching him he was just sitting there, either unwilling or unable to make a move. An opportunity to walk away. But that still left Tim half hunched over on the bed. Pathetic. Jay fought down a swell of nausea. Was this what Tim looked like when he was a kid? No. Probably not. All of that had appeared far more violent.

None of this was helping. Jay needed to think. You weren’t supposed to wake sleep walkers, right? That was something he had heard somewhere. Closing his hand into a fist he lowers it to his side.

OK. He could work with this. Touching Tim was off the table, but that didn’t mean Jay was entirely useless. He can’t help but think of the tunnel, of Tim lying there twitching, of being unable to move his body, of running as fast and as far as he could. No. He wasn’t about to leave Tim again.

Not that he could, he thinks, walking over to the tiny Kitchenette. It was cold outside and Jay wasn’t willing to freeze to death because Tim had a brain with as many holes as Swiss cheese. All he could do was give the bed a wide berth and hope that no one called the police. Could they get their money back if they got kicked out so soon in their stay? Who knew. He looks around, glaring at the microwave and mini fridge. No kettle. Only a coffee maker, which wouldn’t work. But what about… he looks at the microwave more closely. Yes. That would do.

“You look ridiculous.” Jay says to himself as he works, shuffling in between their bags and the kitchenette. “Like a fish out of water. Did I look like that?”

Tim, of course, doesn’t answer. Jay fiddles with the settings on the microwave, grimacing at the thin layer of grime coating the buttons. “Maybe it’s normal for you though. Do you know you always have your mouth half open?”

Despite the age of the appliance and the sheer slapdash nature that came with boiling water in a microwave he manages to do all right, humming as he works. Once the water boils he only gives himself a minor burn before steeping the tea. This part was easy. Wait for exactly 5 ½ minutes before taking a sip. Surprisingly decent. But not good enough. A dash of honey and allowing it to sleep for 30 more seconds does the job. He waits another minute until it was cool enough wherein if Tim chose to drink it there would be no risk of him burning himself.

“Not that you look bad or anything. What am I doing? You can’t hear me, it doesn’t matter, I’m not to give you a complex.” He continues babbling, cradling the mug of tea in his hands before placing it on the side table “Here you go. Something for you to do with your hands other than punching me. Again.”

Jay had found out about Tim’s love of tea a few months ago. It started out small. An impulse purchase that quickly ran out. Jay hadn’t thought it would last. Drinking tea seemed awfully sophisticated for a man like Tim. But before long Tim had garnered a tiny little collection of tea bags, savored and rationed in order to make his worst days just a bit more bearable. He’d already indulged in some earlier, A little peppermint herbal tea that had made the room smell like Christmas.

The one Jay had chosen was chamomile. Apparently, Chamomile was supposed to help you sleep. Jury was out on if it even worked like that, but with the right fixings it would be a pleasant enough drink. For chamomile Tim liked it steeped for exactly four and a half minutes with half a teaspoon of honey. 5 ½ minutes might have been pushing it, But he wasn’t confident in the water actually boiling the way it would in a kettle. Maybe Jay could avoid getting kicked out by going down and complaining about a lack of kettle in the morning as some sort of reverse psychological warfare.

Moving like a robot Tim reaches over, picking up the tea and taking a sip. There’s no spark of recognition, no moment where he’s suddenly himself again. But he does drink the whole mug, and he does lean back down when he’s done, curling up on his side.
Well shit. was that good or bad? Probably good, right? He was sleeping? Or at the very least looking a little bit less like a shell-shocked puppy. Good job Jay Merrick.

He stands there for a moment, staring down at Tim before he turns in an ineffectual circle. What was he going to do tonight?

In the end The choice is simple. Unless he wants to lie down on the floor or try and climb the wardrobe it was the cushionless chair or bust. How had Masky been so comfortable sitting like this Jay thinks, scrunching his knees up towards his chest. That couldn’t have been kind on his leg. Already Jays side hurt, but what else was new? Oh right. His nose. He gently prodded at it, wincing. Not broken, but it would definitely bruise. Great. Tim would probably feel bad about that, and it would become a whole thing.

Fighting the urge to laugh he leans his head back, feeling the scrunchy awful fabric of the chair against his face. It was funny. He had been so worried about making a fool of himself when it was Tim who fucked up, not that Jay could really blame him. Yes. Therapy was definitely helping. He would mention this to Dr. Stevens he decides, picking at the little stray pieces of fabric sticking out of the chair. She might actually have some good ideas on what to do the next time this happened, if there was a next time. It was going to be a long and boring night.

He briefly considers opening the curtains before disregarding that idea. Whatever he could see out there wasn’t more important than what was already in front of him.

Notes:

Thank you all so much for reading everybody! This is definitely one of the most fluffiest parts. Don't worry though y'all I have a plan i'm cooking :) Speaking of cooking probably going to take a break from posting next week on account of editing this kicking my ass. Computer voice to text is not super duper great at actually functioning LMAO!!

Chapter 6: Nostalgia

Summary:

Tim apologizes. Jay goes outside.

Notes:

Trigger warnings:
Discussion of jay getting punched
Jay and Tim in general not being healthy
Jay being a weird little asshole hater

“I’m fine Tim.” Jay says for what feels like the hundredth time, trying and likely failing at not sounding annoyed. “I don’t know why you’re throwing such a fuss.”

”Why I’m throwing such a fuss? This is not me throwing a fuss, Jay, this is me acting like a normal person.” Tim said, continuing to pace. If he didn’t stop soon he might wear a hole straight through the cheap carpet. “This shouldn’t even be part of the conversation. I don’t know why you’re not freaking out.”

Rolling his eyes Jay cradles his cup of water closer to his chest. Should he get up? The idea of taking his rightful place on the bed was awfully tempting right now. Maybe Tim’s side of the bed was still warm. Jay stared at it longingly. Who was he kidding? Both of his legs were numb, staticky and completely nonfunctional. So was his stomach and his head and whatever part of his brain that was hypothetically capable of dealing with this conversation first thing in the morning. The clock reads 7:35 AM. He barely had time to register he was awake before Tim’s groggy questions had started. Jay had answered with a murmured question of his own before Tim had gotten out of bed to come check him out. Then the shouting had started.

“It's not that big of a deal.” Jay says. He wasn’t the one acting out of character. What about this situation made Tim actually want to talk?

“If this isn’t a problem I don’t know what is.”

“Anything and everything else we dealt with last year.”

“I see. If the worst thing ever isn’t happening to us then everything is completely fine.” Tim says, stopping his pacing to throw both of his hands up in the air. The effect is amplified by his still messy hair. Jay refuses to allow it to distract him, especially not after Tim says something like that.

“According to you, yes.” He murmurs underneath his breath.

“Excuse me?”

This wasn’t an argument Jay felt like having right now, although reminding Tim of his own faults might at the least shift the conversation into something actually productive. “I’m the one who got hurt and if I say it’s not a big deal it’s not a big deal.”

“Jay, you getting hurt is a big deal.” Lowering his hands, Tim falters, voice breaking. “I don’t- You don’t deserve to get hurt.”

OK. Hearing that was admittedly nice. Untrue, but nice. Their upstairs neighbors must think they were fighting again. Was this a fight? Jay didn’t think so. This was just Tim and his apologies and the horrible awkwardness that came from your friend decking you in the face during a dissociative episode.

“I said I’m fine Tim.” Jay says, wrapping his blanket tighter around his shoulders. To Tim’s credit he had offered up the water and blanket before he started completely freaking out and- despite his best-efforts, Jay winces. Talking was fine and frowning was better, but smiling was not good for his nose. Tim’s eyes go almost comically wide.

“OK, Who are you and what have you done with Jay Merrick? Why are you acting so calm?”

Oh, for God’s sake.

“Do you want me to freak out Tim? Will it make you feel better if I’m the one being hysterical?” He snaps, unable to hold himself back any longer.
“Insisting I feel bad isn’t making me feel any better.”

“I- no of course not it’s just. You’re not usually so…” Tim trails off running a hand over the back of his hair, which was adorably duck tailing. Jay wasn’t wrong. Out of the two of them Tim’s the one who looks wrecked, pacing and twitching, and if the shaking in his hands was evidence of anything, very clearly wanting a cigarette. He might as well have one if it helps him calm down. “Normal about these things.”

“Excuse me? I’m always normal.” Apparently trying to be the bigger person wasn’t good enough for Tim.

“Oh my God, you really believe that don’t you.”

“Because it’s true.” Jay insists. “You’re the one who made me go to therapy.”

“I’m not the one making you go to anything, Jay. You know what? This is good. You’re acting like yourself and saying something stupid. I don’t have to worry about whether or not I gave you a concussion.” Tim ran a hand over his face. “Can I get you an ice pack? That should help with the swelling.”

“Fine. You can get me an ice pack.” Jay grits out, watching as Tim spins around towards the kitchen like a defunct animatronic. Self-righteous asshole. Now that Tim wasn’t looking at him it was probably the best time to get up, not continue to argue. Slowly Jay uncurls his left leg, grateful that he doesn’t have to try and control his face as the buzzing intensifies into tiny little needle pricks. “I was thinking we could leverage the couch situation if the front desk tries to kick us out again.”

Tim turns around at that, and Jay immediately tries to school his face into neutrality. “What are you talking about?”

“You know. All the shouting?”

“Right. The shouting. Jesus Jay, yeah that’s a great idea.” Tim’s shoulders shake as he tries to stifle a laugh, a small smile on his face. Ridiculous. Jay wasn’t joking. Still…

When Tim returns to fidgeting with the freezer Jay gently prods at his nose. No. It wouldn’t do to have Tim babying him. Laughter was a good step in the right direction, and if that meant pretending to be tough and swallowing his pride for once in his life so be it. He manages to get his right leg situated before Tim comes back with a plastic bag filled with ice, stopping just a couple feet in front of the chair, a slight tremor still running through his hands.
Seeing Tim like this hurt more than any injury ever could.

“Seriously, it’s fine.” It feels odd to speak with such sincerity as he leans forward to accept the ice. “I just got us kicked out so it’s not like I’m completely innocent.”

“If you think that’s in any way equivalent I’m worried about the quality of your therapist.”

“I’m not interested in seeing any other therapist, she’s fine. Consider this payback for all of the other things I’ve done then.” he said waving a hand. “It’s not like I have to go out and do anything.”

Tim looks away, swallows, and balls his hands up into fists. “You know what. You’re right. Can we stop talking about this? Please.”

It takes Jay a moment to think of a response. Partially because Tim has such an odd expression on his face, mouth pulled down into a frown, eyebrows knit together. Partially because he was unsure how to respond himself. It would be hypocritical to fault Tim too deeply for not wanting to continue this conversation. Was this coddling condescension or was it genuine care?

It was one thing to continue on as they had been. It was quite another to be confronted with the fact that Tim care about him so blatantly.

Jay downs the rest of his cup, the water as cool in his throat as the ice pack is against his cheek. “I’m out. Can you get me a refill?”

For once in his life Jay says the right thing. Tim doesn’t necessarily brighten, but he does take the cup from Jay, the edge of his pinky skirting over the back of Jay’s hand.

So what if Jay notices? Some indulgences were fine If not done in excess.

 

It is so completely and utterly fine that Jay decides to do something he hasn’t in months.

Jay decides to go on a walk outside.

This is not a simple decision. Agoraphobia was a word occasionally thrown around by Dr. Stevens, along with debilitating panic attacks and exposure therapy. All of that was stupid and patently untrue or useless. Jay just didn’t want to go outside, something that all things considered was completely reasonable. The smaller the space the easier it was to keep track of everything. Most days, excruciating boredom aside, Jay was content not to leave his hotel room.

This was not most days.

Sitting on the edge of the bed after Tim left, fingers stinging from the ice, Jay had used his free hand to open up his phone, eyes falling on the date. November 22nd. Thanksgiving was just a week away.

Thanksgiving alone would not be enough of a reason for him to venture out. Holidays, in Jays objectively right opinion, were stupid societal excuses to force you to be in proximity of people you’d rather not see. But he wasn’t Tim. Tim, who had been committed so close to Christmas at such a young age. Tim, whose eyes lit up like a small child at the mere mention of Halloween decorations. Tim, who had a mother he wasn’t planning to see.

Jay might not have cared about the holidays, but it was clear Tim did.

The whole spending time with your family thing wasn’t something Jay could realistically help with. Tim never talked about his mother but it was likely she would bite his head off were they ever to meet. The food on the other hand…

Cooking a turkey dinner was out. So was cranberry sauce or mashed potatoes or anything that couldn’t be cooked in the microwave. A microwaved meal was better than nothing though, right? Stover’s or Lean Cuisine maybe. When he had gone to Aldi’s a couple weeks ago hadn’t there been a microwave version of a Thanksgiving dinner in the frozen? He’d pulled up the nearest gas station on his phone and fished through Tim’s bag for cash. It wasn’t going to be candied yams or apple pie, but it was going to be something. A surprise for when Tim came home, proof that Jay was in fact getting better, that Tim’s care wasn’t entirely misplaced.
Besides. With how much Tim was moping about his stupid face the holiday might completely set him off if Jay ignored it.

So, he bundles himself up as best as he can, layering his hoodie and jacket and one of Tim’s coats for good measure. According to Google it was only about half a mile to the gas station, a small distance. Anyone outside the most invalid wretches could walk that distance it. What was 6 months of coalescence in the face of sheer, near manic determination? Jay had practically waddled over to the elevator, already overheating.

It’s easier to pay attention to his surroundings today than it had been yesterday. Being fixated on a task that wasn’t Internet stalking a stranger helped with that. Not that that was a good thing. Sunshine Suites was kind of a dump. The hallways were silent, the décor and wallpaper at least a couple decades old, the air perfused with the stench of countless cigarettes and ill-considered meetings. Jay wrinkled his nose as he pressed the button of the elevator, surreptitiously kicking away a gum wrapper with his foot. Maybe if he was lucky, he’d catch a cold while he was walking and lose his sense of smell.

Jay realizes several actually important things before he reaches the exit. One: the elevator takes a long time to reach the ground floor, stalling out for nearly an entire minute that nearly causes him to press the likely unfunctional panic button. Two: There are more cameras than one would think. Jay counts two in the hallways and one in the elevator that he tries his best to ignore.

He tries so very hard he almost walks past the front desk when the elevator doors do finally open up.

“No Sir, I completely understand! Listen, if I’m being completely honest you might want to check out the Marriott a little ways down the road. A lot fancier than here and the prices are pretty much the same! If you want I can call and check and see if they have any availability? It might be a little bit rough with the holidays coming up but you might get lucky!”

Jay jerks to a stop.

“And I mean hey. Listen. I know we have that whole cancelation policy but between you and me I can get it waived. Trust me, I know how important beauty sleep is!”

He had first heard that voice 10 years ago. They had gone to a party, one of Brian’s probably. Back then there had been enough of a novelty to it all to justify going. Jay Merrick drinking, playing beer pong, being one of the boys. What a foreign concept. It had been nice for about 2 minutes before he started putting his foot in his mouth. By the time senior year rolled around Jay to alienate himself thoroughly enough wherein even Brian’s good graces couldn’t get him past the front door of most parties. But this was before all of that. This was when things were still fresh and new.

Alex had loved it. Why he had trouble getting an invite without Brian’s help Jay couldn’t say. Out of the two of them he was far better suited for socialization. It had probably been around December or January, A good couple months into their acquaintanceship with Brian. Jay had wanted to leave, he could remember that clearly, the unholy combination of alcohol and three or four failed attempts at conversation turning into a terrible nausea that threatened to come out of his throat down onto the hardwood floor. He wanted to go home, drink about ½ a gallon of water and pass out for 12 hours.

But he couldn’t leave, not without Alex. They had a buddy system for a reason, even if Alex ignored it half the time. He had been ignoring it then, tucked underneath a gap in the basement stairs, away from the rest of the party. There hadn’t been a dramatic moment of realization. Jay heard them talking when he finally went down into the basement, exhausted from turning over the above ground portion of the house. He’d been drawn towards them like a moth to the flame, following Alex’s familiar info dumping drawl, the bright light voice of a woman Interjecting and cutting in between descriptions of poorly conceived movie scenes, taking up space. Alex never allowed anyone else to take up space when he was talking about his movie.

When Jay finally rounded the corner of the stairs she looked Awfully interested in what he had to say as well.

That awful feeling of change was the same then as it was now, minus Alex. There she was, Amy Walters, standing behind the front desk and once again turning his life over on its head.

Her appearance wasn’t the same. It had been a long time since 2006. There were no feathers tucked into her hair, no gaudy black makeup that made her look like a raccoon. No tight shirt or stupid looking jeans. And, the biggest change, No long blonde hair. In many ways she wasn’t recognizable at all. Her hair is cut short and slicked back now, her makeup minimal, her outfit a respectable blazer, not something straight out of the mall’s clearance rack. No jewelry, no piercings, no real trace of the woman he had once kind of known.

More concerning than any of that is the long thin scar running along the edge of her jaw.
Jay swayed on his feet. This couldn’t be real. Amy Walters was dead. Out of every person involved in Alex’s spiral her fate had been one of the most concrete. Either Alex or the fall had killed her, likely Alex. No. There wasn’t any universe where Amy could be laughing and checking out a now mollified guest with a grin and a wink.

Maybe Tim had actually given him a concussion. Numbly Jay switches out of Google maps and pulls up Messenger. He should probably text Tim. Either that or try and snap a photo as proof that-

“Hey. Can I help you Sir? Wow! That’s a big bruise! What happened?”

Shit. Amy is looking right at him, ½ frozen smile on her face, her head cocked just slightly to the side. For a moment they stand there, deer in the headlights, before Jay turns on his heels and hightails it out of the hotel.

 

He goes the opposite direction of the gas station. Not that he can blame himself. It wasn’t every day you saw a woman you thought had been murdered by the guy who attempted to murder you working at the hotel you were staying at. Two for two. Not A very good ratio Alex.

By the time he thinks to check his phone Jay’s walked One whole mile in the wrong direction, nothing but a barren road and shells of likely long abandoned houses on either side of him. As he stares down at Google Maps a gust of wind blows past, nearly knocking him off of his feet. Jay barely feels it. Jay takes a couple of deep, steadying breaths and puts his phone back in his pockets.
Amy Walters was alive.

It’s funny. There are a million different things he should be thinking of but he can’t get the thought of Alex’s car out of his mind. It had been impossibly clean, nothing ever in it besides Jay and the man he had gone to such great lengths to follow. Well, that and an air freshener. The ridiculousness of it had stuck out to him even then. Why bother with an air freshener when everything else had fallen apart? Alex didn’t even have a properly furnished house. He had unpacked boxes and drawers filled with pages of that things symbol.

Pine. Clean and fresh. Had he killed anyone in the car? Maybe. The smell would probably stick to the seats. That would explain the air freshener actually.

OK. He was going back to the hotel. Whatever this was superseded everything else. The first course of action would be to get his hands on every single bit of information there was about Amy. Why hadn’t he properly looked into her before? No matter. He could do it now. Investigate Facebook and Twitter and maybe even Tumblr. Hell, maybe try calling the front desk when he was sure she was gone to try and find out her schedule. If only it wasn’t so cold. He needed to text Tim. Tim wouldn’t necessarily have any decent ideas about what they should do, but he would at the very least be a decent sounding board. Someone who could help him if worse came to worse. It very well might.

A familiar stab of pain shoots through his side.
By the time he gets back to Sunshine Suites he’s in agony, his legs aching, His entire left side a mess of fiery agony. Jay grits his teeth and continues to walk. 5 cars out front. There were other guests staying here. It wasn’t just him and Tim and Amy. It was different this time. He didn’t recognize any of the cars. That was good. He was safe.

Just like before he hears her before he sees her. A greeting as soon as he opens the door. Fuck. It must have been only about 20 minutes since he left. If Jay had been thinking remotely clearly he would have realized that Amy would still be there when he returned.

“Hey? Hey! It’s you!”

Fuck. What was he supposed to do? He settles on an awkward smile, making a beeline towards the elevator. It was fine if she thought he was crazy. But his side hurts, and Amy moves far faster than he can as she steps around the desk, standing between him and the hallway.

“Shit. You look half frozen!”

Jay hums non committally. Maybe she was just going to try and talk about the whole shouting thing. That he could also deal with. But Amy doesn’t ask about any of that. Amy looks away before looking back at him, her smile turning that awful scar into something far more jagged than anything that should be on skin.

“Hey, this is going to sound really weird if you aren’t him, but you’re Jay Merrick, aren’t you?”
Jay’s fingers slip off his phone. Looks like he was going to have to deal with this on his own.

Notes:

As usual thank you guys for reading! I am back at it again and very excited to introduce Amy to the cast! Now I can post about her and AAA I love her so much.
Postoperative also has a plot surprisingly kinda! Woo!!

Planning to finish up some really cute stuff with her and Alex soon too!!

Notes:

AAAAA hello everyone. I'm sorry if there's any lingering errors I was fighting voice to text with an hour and a half to edit this!! Welcome 2 my au. dw they’ll eventually figure it out but not for a while.