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Jon was still thinking about Tim’s last words to him. They still echoed in his mind when he was trying to focus on researching statements. He had been trying to give a little effort to research but… it wasn’t the same. The silence was leaving an open space for unwanted thoughts to flood in.
Jon. I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can… then I don’t forgive you. But thank you for this.
The words stuck in his mind. They wouldn’t move. They’d been there since he’d woken up from the coma. Repeating over and over. Taunting him with past emotions he’d sworn that he’d moved on from. It didn’t even matter now. Tim was—
Dead.
Tim was dead. And Jon couldn’t do anything about it. Maybe once he had foolishly hoped that there was some type of way to revive someone given everything with the fears, but he knew that it wasn’t possible.
He thought back to the moments before Tim’s death. If he had been more aware of everything during the unknowing maybe he could’ve—
No.
Even if he had been fully able to understand what was going on during the unknowing he wouldn’t have been able to stop Tim. His mind was set on destruction, on revenge. Jon didn’t even blame him. This was clearly everything Tim had wanted. Would he have even had a purpose if he had destroyed the circus without destroying himself in the process?
I don’t forgive you. But thank you for this.
He had no reason to forgive Jon. And he hadn’t forgiven him. But Jon still wished he had. He could still remember the long nights at Tim’s flat. Dressing up, doing each other's makeup, long talks, just being close to each other. Jon missed it.
Once he was offered the archivist position it hadn’t felt right to continue seeing Tim. They couldn’t provide what they needed for each other anyway. His relationship with Tim had been built on the high he got when he was around Tim. Around someone who was always the life of the party, always looking for trouble. Someone who was willing to tear the world down for the other, and that wasn’t what Jon needed. Or maybe it was too similar to what Jon was himself. If two were willing to burn everything for the other, wouldn’t they eventually burn each other?
You can’t even save him!
But I can hurt you.
He hadn’t even denied wanting Jon to live. Tim wasn’t able to see Jon while everything was going on, Jon knew that. But Jon had been able to see Tim’s face. He had seen the flinch at the comment. The pain etched into his face. He had missed him as well.
Where had they gone wrong?
So many places. The anger that has festered between them was painfully reasonable. Jon had treated Tim like shit ever since he’d gotten the job. There was no other way to put it. At first there were lingering glances, smiles at stupid things, and a general sense that the two of them hadn’t changed at all. But Jon had ruined it. Smiles turned to scowls. Laughs turned to extended silences. Jon’s paranoia had worsened and Tim’s anger sprouted roots in the mistakes Jon had made.
There were tears in Jon’s eyes. He was sitting at his desk, still tightly clutching the forgotten research he’d been doing. A thought dawned on him. He opened a drawer on his desk, reaching to the very back and closing his hand around a necklace chain.
Back in their research days Tim would always get gifts for Jon on his birthday. Or just whenever. Jon had treasured this specific necklace, wearing it every day for years straight. When Tim and him had their first argument after Jon became archivist, Jon had taken it off and put it in the drawer. The arguments only progressed from there and Jon had… forgotten. Somehow. Had Tim noticed? Of course he had noticed. His attention to detail was painful at times. So was Jon’s, of course, but…
Jon put the necklace on. The cool metal resting against his skin. He held back a sob.
If he could’ve gone back and apologized properly to Tim he would’ve. But he was gone. Gone forever just like that. Of course he wasn’t the first person lost. He probably wouldn’t be the last lost either.
Tim’s death had hurt more than anything Jon had ever experienced. It was worse than the worms. Worse than the burn from Jude. Worse than Daisy almost killing him. Worse than the explosion. Worse than seeing Tim’s face when he had told him they had to be done.
He wished he’d gotten a goodbye.