It was a strange feeling, to say the least, Tim thought. To watch Jay, oh so innocent Jay (he had never truly been innocent in any real sense of the word, but comparatively he couldn't help but view Jay in such a light) sit on the curb of a motel parking lot, wrapped up in his jacket and tiredly taking a smoke break. He knew Jay didn't actually smoke, but he didn't say anything. Why would he say anything? He didn't have any horses in that race.
He slowly sat next to the other, letting out a soft huff. He leaned his head close to Jay's, watching as the other placed the cigarette against his own lips. Tim took a drag, chuckling softly before coughing.
"Don't die, cowboy," Jay quietly mused.
"I wouldn't worry about me," Tim replied, a soft laugh escaping him as he slowly exhaled the smoke heavy in his lungs.
“Whatever you say.” Jay let out a harsh cough himself, turning his head to spit into the street.
“Gross.”
“Could’ve spit in your face.”
“Tch- True.”
A silence made its way between them once again, making Jay slowly seem further and further away than he truly was. Like Tim had to work to keep him present in the space they inhabited, like he was fighting a harsh current to keep them where they were. He could reach out and touch Jay and yet he wasn’t sure his fingers would feel the rough fabric of his jacket if he tried.
“So when did you start smoking?” He asked, as if he hadn’t been floating around Jay for weeks now like a ghost haunting an abandoned building.
“Today… I guess.”
“That’s gonna kill ya, you know.”
“You’re one to speak.”
“Well no one ever said I was aiming to survive.”
Jay gave a forced smile, which Tim couldn’t blame him for. The cigarette was still burning away, a large chunk of ash lingering on it as neither touched it, as if neither wanted to risk experiencing such intimacy too often.
“Wanna get dinner?” He heard Jay say.
He bit his tongue in thought, debating about what there was to eat around the area. In all honesty, they were going broke even with the money they had saved between them and he wasn’t all too fond of the prospect of getting fast food for the 3rd time this week.
“You hungry?” He figured to ask.
“Not really.”
“Same.”
Jay eventually dropped the cigarette, shaking his head as he stamped it into the ground to put it out.
“What now?” Tim was almost surprised to hear Jay speak first.
“Wanna head back inside?”
There was a pause between them, as if Jay was putting the meaning of the words he spoke together in his head.
“Not really.”
“Alright.”
There was an even longer silence, the only thing that broke what felt like pure stillness in the air was the sound of rustling fabric of a jacket far too large for Jay’s almost skeletal frame as he grabbed the camera that rested next to his hip, pulling it onto his lap, pointed towards Tim. He wanted to complain as the camera pointed towards him again but he didn’t speak on it. He knew no matter what, it was inevitable nowadays.
“I just… I don’t know anymore, man,” Jay quietly muttered, defeat in his voice as he spoke.
“About what?”
“About… Alex. I just-” Jay cut himself off, and Tim couldn’t blame him. He hated hearing the flood of pathetic complaints Jay made about Alex. Though, it hurt worse when they weren’t just complaints, when they were aching memories that reminded Tim that despite how close they were he was second best to a man he considered better off, and functionally, dead.
“You can keep talking,” Tim murmured, though he really didn’t want to hear. Maybe he just felt he owed it to Jay, to listen despite the fact he’d rather swallow liquid iron.
“I don’t… Know if I want to.”
“No. Continue. I’m listening.” He wanted to sound encouraging, welcoming with his words, but they could both hear the edge in his voice, as if the anger he tried to keep behind closed doors was mere seconds away from spilling out onto the cool concrete they sat on, soaking it in both of their blood.
“Maybe it’s… Better we talk about this in the morning.”
“Sure.”
With that Tim slowly rose to his feet. “Don’t get lost on your way back.”
“Funny.”
He dragged his feet as he walked back to the room they had paid for, reaching into his pocket to look for the key, cringing as he couldn’t find it. Did Jay have it? He didn’t want to talk to him again, not yet, not like this. He continued feeling in his pockets, borderline chewing on his lip to find it.
“Motherfucker,” he mumbled under his breath, resting his forehead against the door of the motel. He could feel like his pride shrivel away as he realized he really needed to get the key back from Jay, slowly pulling himself back to where the other was sitting, holding the camera limply, his eyes trailed at the sky.
Tim could hear him quietly muttering something to himself. To some extent it was weird hearing Jay talking to himself, but maybe to him he was simply talking to the camera.
“I just don’t… Know anymore… I don’t know what to do… It feels like everything is just some dead end trying to find Alex,” he could hear the other say. His voice was just barely audible. It felt almost as if it’d be rude to interrupt this moment.
“At this point it feels like he just knows I won’t give up and is taunting me for it… And yet I can’t… Bring myself to stop,” a long pause, it almost made Tim want to interrupt the other, to drag him to bed and comfort him, “I don’t think I could hate him even if he killed me.” That got to Tim.
“Jay,” he interrupted the other, Jay visibly jolting in shock as his head whipped around, meeting Tim’s eyes. Tim’s sorrowful eyes.
“Um- What’s up?”
“Do you have the key to the room?”
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry, um,” he reached into his pocket, the jingle of metal hitting metal barely hitting Tim’s ears as he reached for it.
“Thanks.”
“Uh, yeah.”