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Tim’s arms are wrapped snugly around his waist. The pressure feels like the only thing holding him together. In the next room over, he can hear the low murmur of Jason’s voice—a sound that normally soothes him, but now makes his stomach twist painfully. He feels—like he’s unraveling.
Jason falls silent. The quiet hangs over their apartment. Tim swallows. The click of his throat is almost overwhelmingly loud.
Then, he hears footsteps. Jason’s shadow falls over him. Tim looks at him. He looks at Tim. Something that feels an awful lot like defeat hangs between them.
“That, uh. That was Roy. It’s… I gotta be outta here at six am,” Jason says carefully. There’s a wariness in his eyes, tension in his shoulders—like he’s bracing for a fight.
Tim is too tired to give him one.
Even if he wasn’t…
Even if he wasn’t, Tim wouldn’t argue with him. Not about this.
“Okay,” he says.
At least he won’t have to get used to sleeping alone. Jason hasn’t slept in their apartment since they started fighting. Hell. Tonight was the first time he’s seen him out of uniform in almost three days.
Tim doesn’t even know where he’s been sleeping. He thought— He thought he knew all of Jason’s safehouses. Hadn’t realized just how little he’d been keeping track—how much he trusted Jason to keep their… to keep Tim’s database up to date.
“Okay?” Jason echoes.
Tim lifts his shoulder. “Okay.” He pauses, and adds, quietly, “Be careful.”
He sees Jason swallow. Watches the way his eyes dart around, searching Tim’s face. Tim doesn’t know what he sees—only that it makes his face pinch. “I… I don’t want to leave things like this,” he says. “Is… How can… What do you need from me, Tim?”
The ache in his voice hurts.
The way he hasn’t moved any closer hurts worse.
Tim doesn’t know how to tell him he doesn’t know. Doesn’t know how to say he’s not sure there’s anything left to fix. So instead he says, “Just come back.”
He won’t.
Why would he?
Jason’s tolerated him for longer than most, but even Tim’s parents couldn’t stand to live in the same house as him for more than a few weeks at a time. It was a mistake to move in together. Tim never should have agreed; never should have let himself fall for the conveniently placed rental ads, never should have even started taking up a drawer at Jason’s old place.
He knew better. Or—he should have.
This would have happened anyway, of course, but maybe it would have taken longer.
“I will,” Jason promises. “I— Fuck, Tim. I swear I will. And I’ll call, every chance I get.”
Tim could almost believe him. Might have, if he hadn’t lived a lifetime of empty promises. “I’ll be here,” he says.
He doesn’t know how to be anywhere else.