Lex Parsimoniae (4/6)

[myths_by_kynx]

Previous

Jared replays the last five minutes in his head, hears Tim say the same thing in the same voice and it doesn't get any easier to listen to. He's pretty sure Tim left him, left the band and...'getting fucked up over him'? No, scrap the 'pretty sure', Tim was fucking clear on all of those points. Tim left without giving him a chance, not even a second chance; if Tim gave him a first chance he doesn't know what it was or how he ruined it. He doesn't want any of it to be true, but that doesn't make it any less real. His mind spins for about the sixth time in less than half as many hours, skips from one worry to the next in panic, unable to deal with all of them at once, but torn between which is worse, too confused to focus on any one without the others invading his head-space.

Getting fucked up over him, that makes it personal, and that's the entire problem. Even if Jared doesn't understand why, he sees how it effects everything else, the band, how Tim being fucked up over Jared impacts on his job. But...why? Tim likes him more than he wants to? More than he thinks he should? He doesn't know and neither option accounts for how fucking angry―hateful―Tim was when he left. Does he blame Jared? Racks his brain to think if there's something, anything, he's done that could be taken a different way, as messing with Tim's head or fucking him over, but all he's coming back to is that Tim never asked. Hasn't asked for more, or less, or anything, all he had to do was ask and Jared would have given it to him in a heartbeat.

Jared has to sit down to pull his jeans on, legs and hands far too shaky to manage something so simple, and he doesn't even bother trying to button them. His fingers are trembling and he'd kill for a fucking cigarette, Shannon has to have some stashed around here somewhere, in his room maybe. The t-shirt Tim ripped is ruined, he kind of thought it would be. Scrunches it into a ball―with a sigh that sounds a little too broken, even to his own ears―and throws it at the trash can across the room. It lands half-draped over the side before sliding to the floor. Fucking figures, with the way his morning is turning out. Goddamn, it can't even be nine yet.

He's nowhere near ready to process how he feels, too hurt, too angry, too sick and too aware of the slick feeling between his legs―unmistakable evidence of what they've done, what he let Tim do to him―to want to do more than scratch the surface, and that's all he's capable of right now. He knows it runs deep, but he doesn't want to look, afraid of what he'll find, mostly afraid it's just white-noise and there's nothing there at all because he's too drained to even feel. Right now, he's numb enough that white-noise is an accurate description. He wonders faintly if it's because of Tim, the possible-but-looking-more-likely-by-the-second concussion, or maybe he's so fucking good at suppressing he fools even himself. Maybe it's everything.

This time he recognizes the key turning in the lock the instant he hears it, and he stands up quickly, fuck, too quickly and fuck this headspin so fucking hard, his equilibrium takes a second or two to catch up. Reason and logic take a little longer, panic setting in first at the prospect of having to explain what the fuck he's doing half-naked and fucked out in the front room if Shannon comes home early.

But no, it's Tim, face flushed and eyes dark, looking no happier than when he left. Jared can't even pretend to be surprised, doesn't know how to right now, evidence of how fucking drained he is. No energy to pretend, if he doesn't switch off he won't have anything left.

"What the fuck do you want?" Jared shivers and folds his arms across his bare chest, wishing for the hoodie back, and some semblance of normal in his voice. Neither are magically appearing.

"There's someone outside." Tim does his best not to look at Jared, and it takes him longer than it should to process the words. He doesn't expect Tim to want to look at him and he still doesn't know why. Tim liked him when they were fucking; Jared shivers with the chill that runs up his spine.

"And now you give a shit?" he spits back, finally feeling the beginnings of anger returning, although which direction it's going is up for debate. It's easier to be angry with Tim than it is to think about the whys and wherefores or make sense of anything.

"Of course I give a shit." Tim's head snaps up, eyes flashing under the artificial light and flickering oddly for a second. Jared shakes his head, fuck he needs to pull himself together because he isn't sure how much longer he can keep the crazy on the inside. Does it even matter? He's already lost, there's no reason to hold back. Losing is not something he does well, especially not like this when the taste of what he's lost is sitting heavily in his throat.

He doesn't believe Tim. Not after what happened, fuck, no, and it's perfectly obvious Tim doesn't give two shits about him. That shouldn't sting as much as it does, and there's not much he can do except bury it. He doesn't want to feel like this now, doesn't want to start feeling, period, and he doesn't want to let Tim see it. He's not sure he'd take it back though, the memories are vivid and new and he doesn't want them to go away, despite how he feels afterwards, now.

Tim holds his hands out, palms up, but doesn't move closer, "Just...grab a bag and come stay with me 'til Shannon's back."

"Like fuck I'm going anywhere with you." He's not the crazy one, Tim is. Has to be. No other explanation for the lack of logic and goddamn fucking bi-polar moodswing, he's not a fucking chew-toy for Tim to throw about, pick up and let go when he changes his mind and that's kind of what he feels like.

Tim opens his mouth, closes it and swallows, hands clench into fists at his sides, "I'll stay here, then."

"Don't trouble yourself. I'll call Tomo, not like I've got a shortage of phones." Jared leans against the arm of one of the larger chairs, figures it's infinitely better than falling over at Tim's feet and he has no idea how he's managing to stay upright even with the help. He's making a conscious effort not to shake, and really only succeeding about half the time.

The fear that something had happened to Tim had barely receded before Tim fucked him, before Tim dumped him on his ass and fucking left and now he's back? Head-spin isn't the fucking word for it. It's just a collection of incidents that bear no fucking relation to each other, or if they do, Jared can't see what it is, can't see what any of it means.

"Does it ever fucking occur to you that I'm trying to protect you here?" Christ, Tim's getting worse, more extreme. When the hell did Tim get so unpredictable and why hasn't he noticed before now? Except...no. It's definitely new, and it very much isn't all in his head, he's sure of that. There's a lot in his head right now, but Tim's being fucking weird, Jared's not making that up. If Shannon were here he'd agree that Tim's being weird and that's kind of important to him right now. Even after...after Tim pulled back, he was never cruel to Jared, not like this.

"No, it really fucking doesn't, so far you're the only one who's hurt me." Snaps his mouth shut as soon as the words are out, and hugs himself tightly, didn't meant to give that much away. It doesn't make it any less true, he's been used and tricked and lied to, about the only thing Tim hasn't done is knock him out, although Jared's not in any kind of mood to be generous about that. He might as well have, Jared's sure that Tim beating him would actually hurt less.

Fuck Tim for making him think he wants Jared as much as Jared wants Tim, making it so good only to rip it away before he's come down. Walking out and straight back in before the come and lube is even dry on Jared's skin. Not giving Jared time to get his head together, figure out what he's feeling. The numbness is fading, Tim being in front of him is forcing him to feel, think about things; hurts like a fucking bitch, raw and open and fucking angry. "Did you even want to fuck me? Or was that just to make it hurt more when you walked out?" He hears the pain in his own voice and takes a deep breath, he has to stop thinking about it because he's gonna say something he's gonna regret, not to mention that this is so far from what's important.

"No! I didn't―"

"Yes you fucking did, you fucking left, don't tell me you didn't. I was here, remember?" It takes everything he has to keep from shouting, fucked up because he's not sure he if he physically could shout considering how tight his throat feels.

"Not that, I know...shit." Tim turns, paces across the room and back, scrapes his hands through his hair. "Ok, look, I...I'm sorry, I was way out of line, I shouldn't...I'm sorry, ok? And we're both running on too little sleep to get into this. Just let me stay, I'll crash on the couch for a bit, keep out of your way, but it'll mean there's two of us in here."

Jared chews his lip, Tim wouldn't lie about seeing someone outside. It's too important, and he has nothing to gain by lying because Jared's pretty fucking sure that Tim doesn't want to be anywhere near him if he can help it. So...yeah, the only explanation is that there is someone outside and Jared's not crazy. He really doesn't want to be in the same space as Tim, doesn't want to be right about this, but he'll be fuck all good by himself against...fuck, against anything really. Tim said sorry, but it doesn't mean shit because Tim's apologizing for Jared being angry, not what he did to make Jared angry. He doubts Tim even knows or understands quite what he did, how much it hurts, but he's sick of being scared and alone.

"Do whatever you fucking want. I'm going for a shower and lay down." He doesn't bother looking at Tim as he leaves.

The numbness seeps back in the further away from Tim he gets, the more space and time he has to think and decide what parts he's not going to think about. Yeah, suppression is a fucking great coping mechanism. By the time he strips and turns the shower up as hot as he can stand, he's feeling slightly better. Pissed off as all out fuck, head throbbing, tired, probably still half scared but he's well past noticing it, it's been so absolutely consuming for so long that he can barely remember what not-scared feels like. He lets the hot water pummel some of the twinges out of his shoulders and back. Stands there until the skin of his fingers start to crinkle, very carefully thinking about nothing at all.

He puts on a pair of sweat pants and a hoodie, his own, loose but warm, both on the good side of well-worn and comfortable. He shouldn't sleep, he remembers that much about concussion. The lump is still there and now he isn't turned on, prickling with fear and adrenaline, he's starting to feel the dull ache again. He stretches out on his bed with a book he'd started a few nights previously. The longer he pretends Tim isn't there, the longer he has to work shit out; fucked up ninja-stalkers, the fucking yard and what in the name of hell he's going to do about Tim.

Two pages in, half a dozen re-readings of those same two pages, and Jared gives up on the book. There's too much to think about and distracting himself, burying his head in the sand isn't working. It's too big to think about everything, downright confusing even without knowing that he's likely running at less than half his usual speed.

It's not difficult to stay awake, he's beyond sleepy, just achy lethargic, face hurts, head hurts, everything fucking hurts, doesn't matter which side he lies on. Then there's the well-fucked listlessness that he knows won't leave right away. Teethmarks on his neck that feel tender every time he turns his head, a near constant reminder of what they did earlier. Paranoia creeps back in along with worry, scratches at every thought. It's not as blatant as last night, doesn't feel like there's someone standing in the corner watching him but he's wound up tight and on edge from everything that's happened since last night and now Tim says there's someone outside. Maybe he's too fucking bone-tired to feel it, maybe things really do seem better in the light, or maybe Tim being downstairs is helping, because he's not panicking half as much as he thinks he should be.

He's angry with Tim, angry at himself for allowing Tim to get close enough to make him feel like shit, angry at all the things he can't fucking change, he doesn't even know what all of them are, for fucks sake. It's fucked up. If he thinks back, replays Tim fucking him he gets butterflies, if he thinks about Tim being downstairs now, he's furious. He still has Tim's phone and no, he doesn't know how to feel about that. Tim's line about 'getting fucked up' over him turns over in his mind every third thought or so, but it's easier to focus on than his stalker. Thinking about Tim isn't what keeps him awake, but it adds to everything else and the way Jared's close to trembling with nerves, he couldn't sleep if he'd wanted to.

* * *

It's impatient. Paces and circles, buried deep inside the man. He bears his teeth and clacks them together. Jaws snap shut, biting at nothing but memory and anticipation. On edge and waiting for night to fall, can sense the other doing the same.

It will be over tonight.

* * *

Jared hasn't slept. Staring at the ceiling, the alarm clock, or a spot on the wall without blinking definitely doesn't constitute sleep. Even curled on his side with his eyes closed, he's very much awake and aware. He hasn't eaten since...some time yesterday, he can't remember exactly when, but long enough that he should probably think about doing it again. He doesn't feel as nauseous as he did earlier. Lying down and carefully not thinking about anything has helped his head to the point that it only throbs when he lies on the bruised side.

He checks the time on the phone he's holding, unsure why he's still holding Tim's phone, except Tim said keep it, so fuck it, that's exactly what he's doing. Not like Tim has ever given him anything else worth mentioning. It's late, later than he expects it to be and he's done a good job of doing exactly nothing all day, hiding in his room. He can't do it forever though, but at least now he feels marginally more human, if not particularly awake.

He stops at the top of the stairs when he gets there, and listens for movement, the TV, anything to give him an idea of if Tim is still downstairs and if so, what he's doing. Can't hear anything, so maybe Tim got bored and left...Jared's not even sure if he wants Tim to be downstairs or not. He doesn't want to see Tim, hasn't got a fucking clue what to say to him, but on a scale of one to ten of people he doesn't want to deal with, but has to, whoever is outside is about twenty-five, and Tim's not quite that high, still tips the fucking scale though.

He doesn't feel any of last night's fear as he takes a deep breath before padding downstairs. Something is...different. Missing maybe, but he doesn't know what. Anticipation and dread at having to face Tim, but nothing like the adrenaline fueled hunted.

Tim's sprawled on his back on the couch, one leg hanging off the side, completely asleep and breathing heavily through his nose, if not really snoring.

Jared hesitates in the middle of the room, frowns and actually looks at Tim, gaze raking his sleeping form. Tim's wiped out, drained, dark purple smudges under his eyes from more than just last night. The tour's been over for almost a week, more than long enough to remedy the worst of the extended sleep deprivation, but Tim doesn't look like he's slept at all. Tim looking halfway pitiful doesn't make Jared any less angry, but it makes him curious. He wants to know if something is wrong with Tim, no, he knows something is wrong, Tim knows something he's not telling Jared, but yeah, it piques his already desperate curiosity.

Tim stretches and twists, and his t-shirt rides up slightly. Jared narrows his eyes as skin with vicious looking scratch marks is revealed and he guesses that's why Tim kept his t-shirt on earlier. He creeps closer―trying not to wake Tim but unable to stay away or not look―until he's standing over him, hand hovering inches shy of touching. It feels sort of dirty as he catches the material between his index and middle fingers to tug it higher; even if he does like Tim's bare chest, he's still too angry with him to look for aesthetic reasons.

Three vivid score marks, near enough equal distance apart, forth and fifth a little lighter, a little further apart. Whoever Tim has―or had―stashed at his place has fucking talons for fingernails. Can't help the passing thought that Tim doesn't need to go anywhere else, if he wants scratched up, all he had to do was ask, Jared could, would and can do that. Except apparently Tim thinks he does need to go elsewhere and it's all different―fucked up―now, anyway. Tim mutters something in his sleep, twists to the side and the t-shirt lifts a little more without Jared having to do anything. Heart skipping a beat or five, Jared dismisses sex as the culprit right then and there.

It looks like...something―a big something―tried to chew Tim's side off. Fucking puncture―teeth―marks are obvious, surrounded by a dark mottled red-purple bruise. A couple of days old, at least by the look and color of it, and while he's not...overly familiar with the odd shaped wound, he's seen something close enough before.

Shannon got bitten by a neighbor's dog when they were kids. Evil little fucker had torn into Shannon's leg when he jumped over the fence that separated their yards to get their ball back. Yeah, Shannon shouldn't have been over there in the first place, but they lost so many balls that way, their neighbor refusing to give them back, that their mom put her foot down, wouldn't buy another if they were careless again. They couldn't have been more than ten, Shannon maybe eleven at most, and it'd seemed like the longest summer break ever, Shannon constantly in pain, bandaged leg, neither of them allowed out of the yard, their mom constantly on their case for being so stupid and careless. Yeah, it'd been a long summer, seemed to take forever for Shannon's leg to heal up.

In retrospect, Jared poking at the wound when he was pissed at Shannon probably hadn't helped. It had healed, though, eventually, and the marks on Tim bore too much of a resemblance to be anything other than the same thing, bigger on Tim, more vicious than Jared's thirty year old memory but the shape is unmistakable. He just about manages to stop himself touching the marks on Tim's waist, barely, his hand is already outstretched before he pulls back, confused and frowning, wondering what in the name of fuck Tim has been doing and why he's hiding it.

His gaze flickers upwards and he catches and holds his breath when he meets Tim's eyes. Holy fucking shit. Totally caught red handed. Tim's awake and looking right back at him. He licks his lips and tries to read the expression on Tim's face. In the split second he processes Tim being awake, he expects anger, but he isn't finding it. Tim is mostly blank, maybe a little...curious? Jared's not sure. He coughs to clear his throat, another situation he has absolutely no experience to draw on to give him any kind of clue of what he should say. There's been too many of these moments in the last twenty-four hours for his liking.

He steps back and lets the material drop, "You been to the hospital about that? Get shots?"

Blankness is replaced by confusion as Tim scratches his head and yawns, "Huh?"

"Shots? Rabies." Jared inclines his head to Tim's stomach, "I know what a fucking dog bite looks like."

"Oh." Tim pulls his t-shirt down, eyes averted from Jared's, "Yeah. it's fine."

Jared doesn't push the point because it's the least of their issues. It's still an issue but it's not immediately relevant. Which he really wants to talk about as soon as he figures out which one, and how to broach it. "Better be, be inconvenient as fuck if you turn furry on us next full moon."

Tim half sits up, quicker than Jared has seen him move since, well...maybe ever actually, but it makes him jump back, scared again for a second, fuck. Tim is supposed to be safe, comforting, not scaring the fuck out of him by moving and he hates Tim a little more for taking that away from him

Jared goes to the kitchen like he planned to and it's easier to hide his feelings when Tim isn't right in front of him. Grabs a bowl of leftover soup from the refrigerator and shoves it in the microwave, leaning with both hands on the counter and watching the bowl rotate as he thinks. He needs to talk to Tim, he needs answers too much not to. He can't actively be nice to him because it's gonna sound fake and Tim's not stupid, but there's no sense in being an utter bastard if he wants Tim to talk. It's going to take a fuck load of effort, but he needs answers. He waits until his soup―which is barely half a bowl―heats up before leaning in the doorway between the kitchen and front room. He faces Tim on the couch and keeps his tone as bland as possible as he stirs his soup, "There's food in the kitchen if you're hungry."

Tim rubs the back of his neck, he's still sitting up but hasn't moved any further, "Thanks, I'll get something in a bit."

Jared makes a face before he can stop himself, somewhere between disgust and annoyance. He believes Tim, but doubts it'll happen until he's out of the way. Fuck Tim so fucking hard for making him feel uncomfortable and unwanted in his own damn house. "So we gonna talk about this or avoid it?" and it's more of an effort than he expects to keep up the same easy-going tone.

Tim looks up briefly, "Talk about what?"

"Don't play dumb, asshole. Sex. What the fuck happened last night. You leaving the band. Me fucking you up. Getting bitten by a dirty great dog. Pick one."

He manages a whole three spoonfuls of soup before Tim speaks again, waits him out almost, even if he's only glancing at Tim from beneath his lashes.

"What happened to avoid as an option?" Tim rubs his eyes.

"I lied about it being an option."

"Figures," he grumbles. "Can we just leave it? I don't wanna talk about it―any of it."

Jared laughs humorlessly and shakes his head, as if. Tim is dumber than he looks if he thinks Jared's letting any of this go. He's not sure where to begin with the questions, could write a twenty page essay on what he wants to know, but he has to start somewhere. "So what, I'm supposed to go along with that? I'm fucking you up and you can't even tell me why or how? Am I doing it now?"

Tim looks like he'd rather be having a root-canal without pain medication than answer, but he gives a heavy sigh, "It's not...s'not you. You've done nothing wrong, haven't promised me shit, so don't fucking worry about it, the problem's all mine."

Jared raises his eyebrows, irritation bubbling to the surface, "It's not you, it's me. Crisis of sexuality kicking in? Gonna tell me you don't like guys anymore? You made it my problem when you fucked me."

"Don't...don't do that, stop twisting my fucking words," Tim snaps, before closing his eyes and breathing deeply, "This thing we have going on, had going on, it's fucking with my head, ok?"

Tim sounds...almost desperate for Jared to believe him, and...fuck it, he does believe him. Can't not with Tim looking so drained and verging on pitiful. He lets the spoon drop into the slightly emptier bowl and flinches at the sound of metal meeting ceramic, fucking fuck, this has to goddamn stop. That Tim doesn't even raise a smile at Jared jumping at shadows, at noises he's making himself, is telling. He can't think of a reason for Tim to lie and he has plenty of experience with Tim lying, so chances are good he's telling the truth.

"Why?" Jared chews the inside of his cheek, fuck the rest of the soup, he can't be assed with scraping the bowl clean, or eating any more.

"Because it is. Does there need to be a reason?" Tim's getting angry again but Jared's getting used to it. Even if he wasn't, his own anger, need for answers, surpasses caring about Tim's feelings right now.

Jared shrugs, "Be weirder if there wasn't a reason so yeah, think there does need to be one."

His brain fires possibilities at him; crisis of sexuality, scared by Jared's intensity, pissed off with him not paying enough attention―wouldn't be the first time for either, or both at the same time come to think of it―Tim being too into him, the whole boss-employee dynamic, and...yeah, that's about as far as he gets. Four choices so for fucks sake, pick one already.

"Whatever," Tim mumbles.

Tim's clamming up and if Jared doesn't keep a tight reign on his temper they're going to get exactly nowhere.

"And fucking me? I touched your dick and you couldn't say no?" He surprises himself with how bitter he sounds, and his hand clenches around the bowl with the need to do something other than hit the wall, or Tim, but yeah...that's maybe the most hurtful thing Tim has done, Jared's sure he has bruises from how quickly Tim tossed him aside.

"Would you just drop it?"

"No. Excuse the fuck out of me for being confused and wanting answers. We go from the occasional handjob, to you pulling back, to you fucking me in my front room, to you leaving. And then we've got the asshole fucking ninja stalker outside, what the fuck ever happened last night which you're still lying to me about, or calling me crazy and right now, I'm not sure there's a fucking difference, and to top it all off, I'm the one fucking with your head?" Jared hates the way his voice starts to shake before he finishes speaking but goddamn, he's so fucking pissed off with Tim.

Tim leans forward with his fists clenched, "Did it ever fucking occur to you that maybe you won't like the fucking answers?"

So fucking what? It has to be better than the lies, "Well, I fucking hate being lied to so yeah...I'd like them a damn sight more than I like not having them."

Tim turns away, looking out of the window and frowning, Jared can see the walls coming up. Tim closing off and closing down, about as still as Jared ever remembers him being. About as pissed off as Jared has ever seen him. Tim...Tim is...he's Tim. He doesn't sweat the little things, doesn't worry about the things he can't change, deals with everyone else's moods in good humor. Tim gets frustrated, irritable and snarly if he's sick, but Jared can't recall even one instance in over six years when he's seen Tim, honest to god angry. It doesn't deter him, pisses him off more, and too fucking bad for Tim. If he didn't lie every time he opened his mouth, maybe Jared would care, but Tim isn't even trying to hide that he's lying, or at least, fucking avoiding by not answering any-fucking-thing.

The silence drags―stretches―out between them. Jared glares at Tim, Tim glares at the yard or some fucking thing, neither of them willing to budge. Jared shakes his head, he suddenly feels more wiped out than he has in months. Everything; months of feeling watched and then today, confusing the fuck out of him, getting everything he half-hoped for and having it snatched away. Tim's moods, Tim sitting on his sofa, closed off and pissed off....it's wearing him down too much, he hardly has any defenses left, pure stubbornness holding them up and they're paper thin, ripped and ragged.

His shoulders slump, but he almost catches a glimpse of humor in the god-awful situation. The whole thing, from the previous night, it's fucking ridiculous, and no wonder he has a hard time finding something to focus on. Yeah, the shit with Tim is easier to deal with than anything else.

"You wanna hear the really fucked up thing?" he asks with a self-deprecating laugh, tone conversational and deceptively light, "I actually fucking missed you before today. But you can go to fucking hell."

He doesn't mind admitting he misses Tim, not after everything that's happened, and a spiteful part of him hopes his words make Tim feel like shit. Isn't fair he's the only one feeling this bad.

Tim's face falls and going by his expression Jared reckons he's feeling a little bit bad for being such a fucking asshole. Not enough to start telling the truth, or even talking, but he's not asking for a fucking miracle.

Tim stares at the floor and Jared watches him, time ticks past slowly. It's so quiet Jared can hear the clock ticking in the hall, seconds bleeding into minutes spent fighting every instinct he has that wants to scream, throw stuff, tell Tim he's a fucking asshole.

When he does speak, he sounds almost normal and he's sort of proud of himself, "Seriously man, what the fuck are you even doing here? You want to go, then get the fuck out. I put your phone on the side when I came downstairs. There's nothing keeping you here."

He turns into the kitchen before he lets Tim see how much it damn near kills him to say it. He reckons Tim will leave for good now, and no, he doesn't want to watch him go. Runs the hot tap and lets the thin stream of water wash the last of his soup down the drain; it's kind of a fitting analogy for the direction his life is going in. Makes it last as long as he can to give himself an excuse to stay in the kitchen. He's not scared of being on his own, feels almost...resigned to whatever is going to happen, he'll deal with it if he has to. He'll sleep with the baseball bat tonight, or at least lie in bed with it and not sleep. If it gets bad he'll call the cops, no matter how much he doesn't want to, doesn't exactly have a huge list of people he can count on and he's one down on that now, so what choice does he have?

He doesn't expect to hear Tim behind him and it jolts him out of his thoughts. Leaves the bowl down and grips the counter so he can't turn around, "Thought I told you to leave."

"You did."

"Good. I'd hate to think I imagined that part. You leaving or am I calling the cops and getting your ass thrown out?" It's an empty threat, Tim knows how much Jared hates cops and Jared knows he wouldn't ever want to make real trouble for Tim.

A second or two passes, "Do you trust me?"

Jared drops his chin to his chest and laughs in disbelief because, what the fuck? Tim can't ask that of him, not after everything. "You lie to my face and then expect trust?"

Tim moves further into the kitchen and Jared has to turn around, glaring hard enough he hopes Tim will stop the steady, measured, walking towards him. "Before today, you did though, yeah?"

Jared shrugs, "For all the fucking good it did me, yeah."

He can't deal with Tim up close, he can't. He's not expecting Tim to reach out and stroke his upper arm, but it's exactly what Tim does. He shrugs it off roughly, twisting away more than he needs to because it's not like Tim grabbed him. He glares but all he gets back is a stupidly earnest expression and this close he can see how red-rimmed Tim's eyes are, tired, or maybe...no, he's tired, doesn't imagine his own eyes look any better.

"Please Jared, I just...can you try and hold onto that trust a little bit longer?"

"Why?"

Tim is smashing through every barrier and every defense Jared has set up, pulled and cobbled together in an effort not go crazy or break down. He's still suspicious and no, he doesn't trust Tim, and it's Tim's own fault, because he did trust him, and then Tim made it go away.

"Because I really need you to. I can't...can't explain everything but―"

"Try it," he snaps, faster and harsher than intended and he reins it back in as Tim flinches, "Just...try explaining one fucking thing because you're giving me fuck all and expecting everything."

And that's the problem. Tim can't ask for trust like this, he has to give Jared something to believe in.

Tim steps closer, hands resting lightly on Jared's waist. Jared tries to push him off because they're still fucking arguing, and people do not hug in the middle of arguments, it just...doesn't work like that.

The more he struggles, the tighter Tim holds onto him, hands sliding around his back. Either Tim's stronger than he looks or Jared's so fucking tired he's next to useless. Doesn't matter how much he squirms and twists, pushes Tim's chest, he can't get away. It chills him to think that maybe he's not trying to get away as hard as he can, because that's like admitting he still wants Tim. Tim ducks his head slightly, breath tickling Jared's hair where it curls behind his ear.

"Please? I'm sorry, Jared. So fucking sorry. This is my fault―"

"Damn fucking right it is."

Tim huffs out a laugh, but there's little humor in it, "You have no idea."

Arms tighten around him when he tries to push away again. He doesn't want to give up too easily, give in and let Tim hold him, but it feels like Tim's made of fucking steel so he doesn't really have any choice. Feels good, and if Jared can wipe his mind, he can let it feel good.

He's pissed off as hell, trying hard to keep from just tearing a strip off Tim, "Then explain it? Give me something to work with."

Tim holds tighter, pressing his face against Jared's neck and sighing softly, "Fucking with my head because I want you too much."

Jared frowns, safe in the knowledge Tim can't see him. Wonders vaguely if he's meant to hear that at all, Tim's speaking so quietly. It makes him feel better about being held, it's unlikely Tim wants to crush him to death. And he's talking now, kind of, which is infinitely better than before. If he needs to use Jared as a comfort blanket in order to be able to, which Jared is starting to think is the case, well...he can deal with that as long as he gets some answers.

He licks his lips, and stays as still as possible, "So that's why you pulled away? Started avoiding?"

Tim nods against his shoulder, "Can't...can't ever happen."

Jared frowns more, unsure how to take that. Tim sounds so...convinced, so final. Goddammit, he should have some sort of say in that, he's at least half involved.

"Everything else...fuck, really is all my fault. I..." Tim laughs but it's a hollow sound, "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you―"

Tim's talking in fucking riddles as far as Jared can tell, there's no sense to be made out of it, doesn't seem to relate to...what the hell ever is going on. Tim is deadly serious, though, that much is obvious and it makes Jared's chest go tight in...if he has to pick, it's dread. He's half afraid but doesn't know what of, only that it's something he's not going to like. Swallows and licks his lips before speaking, "Try me."

The way Tim laughs, makes Jared shake, even if he's pretty sure Tim doesn't mean to. "Did that once. Didn't work out."

There's a bitterness in Tim's voice, can't be disguised no matter how much he tries, and yeah, Jared's sure he's trying and twice as sure he's telling the truth. It's the latter that keeps Jared from pushing for more details, for now.

"But―"

"No." Dead fucking serious and the edge of growling-rumbling-bass in his voice that Jared's still not familiar with. Tim squeezes tighter, hands move up and down Jared's back like he's expecting Jared to bolt. Lips graze his ear, a barely-there sigh and when Tim speaks, it sends shivers down his neck, "You're not crazy, ok? Not about this, at least. It's the most fucked up thing imaginable and it's my fault. Just...need you not to hate me right now. Need you to trust me to fix what I've fucked up and I'll go, won't ever have to see me again."

Tim might as well be speaking Greek for all the sense he's making, or how it bears any relation to anything else. He almost doesn't have any questions because he has no idea where to start asking. How much and more importantly, what's Tim's fault; doesn't mean he won't try, "Answer me one thing? Even if you don't want to, or think I won't believe it, you'll answer?"

There's more confidence in his voice than he feels, and Tim tenses, "Just one."

Jared moves his hands to Tim's waist, tentatively at first but steadier when he's not pushed away, hopes it makes Tim feel...hell, he doesn't know, maybe he just plain wants to. He leans back so he can see Tim's face and half wishes he hadn't because Tim's expression is near-broken pleading. Jared's pretty sure Tim could ask for anything looking like that, and Jared'll give him it. He's asking though, he is, damn well deserves at least one straight answer, probably a whole hell of a lot more.

He has a million and one questions, and picking one makes his head hurt because it's too big. All he knows so far is Tim likes him...possibly more than he thinks he should. He bites his lip against the got a fucked up way of showing it threatening, it won't help Tim open up, even if saying it might make Jared feel better. Tim's talking about more than whatever-the-fuck-it-is between them, he hasn't exactly made it clear, but Jared's not allowed enough questions to make sense of that. Only one, and he's picking what's been bugging him most, what pissed him off most when he confronted Tim, before he realizes he decided. "Your phone didn't fall out of your pocket, did it? I found it in your jeans? Outside, with your other clothes?"

Tim turns his head away, clenches his jaw and a muscle jumps in his cheek. Jared fights the urge to grab his chin and force eye contact, because he's ready for Tim to lie again, try to bullshit him. He's ready to shout and scream until Tim gets the fuck out or talks to him.

Fact is, he's prepared for anything but the truth. Prepared for anything but Tim turning back slowly, not quite meeting his eyes and shaking his head. "No, didn't fall out of anywhere and yeah, guess that's where you found it. Wasn't sure if I'd put it back in my jeans or not after I spoke to you."

Jared's mouth hangs open, unable to string two words together let alone a whole sentence reply. The relief that he's not crazy is immediate, all consuming, removes doubts that he didn't even realize were still there. It's far too brief, gets swallowed by the rest of the implications, unanswered questions and loose threads. Tim's clothes were outside. Deliberately, knowingly if not particularly carefully left there, which means Tim...running naked through his yard; the fuck? "But―"

"Hey." Half a smile, genuine if not particularly happy, "You said you'd only ask one thing."

Fuck. He's not sure he can go back on that, now Tim's held up his side, even if his answer leaves Jared with twice as many questions as before. He doesn't have a clue where to start thinking about this shit and he huffs a breath through his nose, "This conversation? Is so far from over."

"But over for tonight?" Tim looks...hopeful, isn't quite strong enough, pleading more like. And fuck everything, Tim moves closer, close enough to kiss and as soon as that thought crosses his mind, it stays there. He likes kissing Tim, even if it's fucked up as hell. First kiss right before their first fuck, especially considering how long they've been getting each other off. There hasn't been anywhere near enough kissing for him to miss it. Doesn't stop him wanting to, but no way is he giving in. There's so much...everything fucking else, and he needs to concentrate, get his mind out of the gutter before he loses control.

He sighs and nods, glares at a patch of floor that definitely doesn't make him think about kissing. He's not ready to forgive Tim by any stretch of the imagination, and he hears it when he speaks, but he's in no way sorry for that, "For now. But when this shit blows over, you and I are having a very blunt conversation."

Tim nods, but Jared hasn't forgotten the quip about 'being gone'. He's not going to let that happen, not until they've sorted this shit out, anyway. Fuck, doesn't want to do it at all, and he'll hunt Tim down if he tries, whatever happens.

"So...you trust me a little again?"

Mulls the question over, not quite able to lie outright, "I trust you think you're doing the right thing."

Tim laughs, and it sounds a little manic. Jared supposes he should be concerned about the sanity of both of them, although since insanity looks more and more like a nice vacation compared to here and now, it'd be Murphy's law if neither of them is actually losing their mind.

"It'll do."

He doesn't have a response, doesn't think it needs one either, and Tim doesn't seem like he's picking up the conversation anytime soon. Tim's expression is...Jared can't read it, he doesn't have a clue what's going on behind Tim's eyes. He doesn't feel like he knows him at all right now, doesn't trust the things he thinks he knows, and that's scary in a completely different way. At least Tim isn't trying to pretend he's not hiding things, he supposes that counts for something, but he doesn't believe it completely.

Jared squirms out of Tim's arms, aware Tim loosens his grip and allows it, more than Jared gets free. Boosts up onto the kitchen counter and doesn't take his eyes off of Tim. He looks like shit, eyes red-rimmed―lack of sleep or tears, Jared's not sure and doesn't want to ask―and downright pathetic if he's honest, "So...what am I trusting you to do?"

Tim stares somewhere under Jared's current knee height, shoulders hunching and hands in his jeans' pockets; a gesture Jared worked out long ago meant that Tim's trying not to be noticed, not draw attention. Invisible six foot something bassist, yeah fucking right. "To fix it."

Jared raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, it's like beating his head against a brick wall. Not that he's surprised exactly, but...he hoped.

"He'll be back tonight for sure, if he's even left and I don't think he has." Tim's avoiding looking at Jared directly, looking pretty much everywhere else, and his eyes narrow as he gazes out the window, scanning from side to side.

"You saw him again?" Jared asks, follows Tim's line of sight, not completely sure what he's feeling.

Tim turns back and it's almost a shock when their eyes meet, "You can't feel it?"

"No..." He laughs uneasily, "Fuck, no wonder Shannon took off if that's how crazy I've been sounding."

"Not crazy if it's warranted." Tim mutters with a shrug.

Jared chews his thumb nail, brain spinning. Tim saw him outside, whoever he is, in the daylight, clear view and fuck, he's losing it, he's not been thinking. "Why the fuck aren't we calling the cops, you've seen him, can give them a description even if he's gone by the time―"

Tim's hands slam on the counter, either side of him and he flinches in surprise at Tim's action as well as his tone, whole freaking unhinged demeanor, "No."

Jared's eyes go wide and Tim looks away, breathing heavily through his nose. He does that a lot when he's angry, Jared realizes, like he's so angry he can't even look at Jared. Seems to get it under control after a few moments, "No. Just...trust me on this, it's a bad fucking plan. No police. Won't help and it won't make him leave."

Mumble of words that even this close, Jared can't make out, and part of him doesn't want to. Ignorance is bliss, right? Fuck, no, no it isn't and whoever said that knows jack shit.

"Would you listen to yourself for a minute?" he whispers, licks his lips, "I'm trying to trust you, but you're scaring the fuck out of me."

This is fucked the hell up, and if he hadn't been scared shitless last night, he'd be seriously freaked out. As it is, he kinda is seriously freaked out, but it's not so far past scared shitless it's worth thinking on. He licks his lips again and swallows, before cupping Tim's chin and turning his face, "What's going on?"

Tim looks...fucking terrified, close to broken with it for a second or two before he manages to hide it. Not quick enough, though, and no, Jared isn't imagining it. He's not imaging Tim shaking his head either, even if he's half-expecting it.

Jared laughs...fuck. If he doesn't laugh, he's going to crack up, "So, what? We sit here and wait for the crazy to come get us tonight?"

"No. No, you're...gonna go to bed. And you're gonna fucking sleep, lie in bed and not get up for fucking anything."

He can't make sense of the desperation in Tim's voice. Not past the feeling of dread sinking steadily lower in his stomach. Something isn't right, doesn't add up, Tim's up to shit again but Jared doesn't know what. He does know that the worst thing he can do is piss Tim off and get more of the silent treatment. Fuck, Tim can probably out-silent Shannon in a mood, likely without even trying if Jared's reading him right.

His fingertips are still on Tim's jaw and he slides them higher, strokes stubble, mind flashing back on how Tim seems to need to hold, touch him in order to talk, and he keeps doing it. Tim tilts his head towards him, eyes down, as Jared speaks softly, "And what're you gonna do?"

"Stop pushing this, please...don't make me tell you. I can't tell you. Don't even have the words to explain."

He's careful not to show how annoyed he is, how much he really isn't planning to do a damn thing Tim says. He doesn't have to try very hard, Tim is refusing to look at him, and he has to be stupider than Jared gives him credit for if he thinks Jared's meekly going to accept the bullshit and demands to do nothing. Tim closes his eyes, still leaning into Jared's touch and he looks less stressed than he has all day.

Despite the cryptic bullshit and half-answers that are about the opposite of 'reassuring', Jared's pretty damn sure Tim's not an axe murderer. For a start, they'd have noticed the bodies and bloody clothes. Unless Tim doesn't wear clothes...but no, doesn't fit, doesn't make sense.

"You've known me how long? And now you expect me not to ask questions?" he asks quietly, in an attempt to broach the subject again, make Tim realize he needs answers.

Tim turns his face into Jared's palm, and...could've been a kiss, might've been a kiss, stops at the last second, maybe. He drops his hand back to the counter, having no idea what to make of Tim's behavior, or how he should react.

"This isn't the time for questions, Jared. It...I can't even think of how to explain it without sounding fucking crazy, ok?"

Stares wide-eyed at Tim for a second or two, chews his lip, and...it's the most fucked up thing, but he believes Tim. In a way, but he's not―can't―settle for anything less than the truth, "You're already sounding kind of crazy and you're...telling me that..." Stumbles over the words, not really sure what he wants to say, "It's all your fault?"

Tim flinches, like he expects Jared to hit him, not surprising given his tone he supposes, but it hurts. Tim's looking at the floor, anywhere but Jared, yeah.

"Yeah. And I'm gonna fix it." Jared swallows as Tim looks up and meets his gaze, expression stupidly earnest, "Everything ends tonight."

He leans closer before Tim can look away, "You realize how fucked up that sounds, based on what you've told me?"

"Might have an idea or two." A brittle, self-deprecating laugh, "This is the not-crazy version and you're already having a hard enough time believing me."

Which is...yeah, true but then again, completely not. Jared's not believing him because he's not getting anything to believe in.

"Is it illegal?" Not that he really cares, he's too far past that. Guessing it depends what kind of illegal. He's done his fair share of illegal shit although he draws the line at murder, even if he's half thinking of methods for body disposal.

Tim laughs, genuine amusement this time, "No. No, not illegal."

"Then...what? What the fuck is going on?" He's losing it, can feel his temper slipping out of the reins he has on it. Wants to grab Tim, shove him against the wall, shake and beat the answers out of him. Tightens his hands on the edge of the counter and tries to remember demanding and shouting haven't worked yet, so unlikely to start now.

"Jared," Tim growls a warning.

He lets out a breath, shaky with anger more than anything else, "You're crazier than Shannon thinks I am if you think I'm going to stay in my room while you do fuck only knows what to 'fix it'."

Tim can think what he likes, Jared's past holding back, fuck this. He's never backed down before, promised himself last night he wouldn't and he's damn well keeping that. Certainly isn't going to stay in his room, waiting to be rescued or whatever the fuck Tim wants him to do. Does he look like a fucking fairytale princess? Occasionally in stage make-up he could probably pass, but it's so not the fucking point and he shakes his head to clear the thoughts.

"You do that and I'll―" Tim snaps his mouth shut against whatever he's going to say, "Fine." He pushes away from the counter and leaves Jared sitting on it. "Yeah, you grab your baseball bat and we'll do this together."

It's a lie. Jared knows it is, Tim's talking crap, he doesn't mean that. Probably knows that Jared knows it, but he's playing along for now. "Good. Glad we got that cleared up. Gonna tell me how we're going to fix this then?"

Tim snorts, shakes his head, takes one last, lingering look at Jared before he turns and walks out of the kitchen.

Motherfucker.

Jared has even more questions than he did before. Their conversation, if something verging on an argument every other word can be called that, has cleared up sweet fuck all except Tim likes Jared. He huffs out a breath as he pulls his legs up a little, feet flat against the cupboard he's sitting above. Tim liking him isn't exactly obvious, and he has no desire to know how Tim would treat him if he didn't like him. On the heels of that thought is the memory of Tim practically shaking in his arms when he said it.

Doesn't mean sweet fuck all, doesn't clear anything up, doesn't even begin to touch on anything that matters. No hint or indication of what...Tim's got them into, how or why. Tim won't be pushed, won't give in, and Jared has a feeling that the more he pushes, the further away Tim will go, in his own head. Sex...well, it might work, but then again, it might blow up in his face. Getting thrown on his ass and ditched once is more than enough.

Yeah, he needs something more subtle, approach from a new angle that Tim's not expecting. Watching Tim, keeping an eye on him and using every half-opportunity to his advantage is about the only plan he has, nothing else he can do.

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