Work Text:
And he's smoking out the window every morning
While I get high in the bathroom
We're always on the upswing, baby
Lightning in our fingertips today
I jump each time you touch me
Always on the upswing, baby
~
Jon woke up groggily, the taste of cheap liquor still on his tongue. He had fallen asleep on Tim’s couch again, and his back was killing him. He sat up, fussing with the messy bun he had thrown his hair up into. Every time he slept with his hair in a loose bun he swore he would never do it again. This time was the same empty promise to himself. After struggling for quite a while with his very tangled hair, he got the hair band out and went through the motions of braiding his hair. He secured the braid quickly and swung his legs off the edge of the sofa and got up. He stretched, loosening up his shoulders and eyes scanning the room.
Alcohol bottles, burned out cigarettes, and snack wrappers all were scattered on the table and floor. Jon rolled his eyes, trying to remember what he should regret from the night before. He would help clean up in a bit. He reached down and picked up a pack of cigarettes, getting one out and grabbing a lighter from the table as well.
There was a small balcony in Tim’s room, so Jon walked through his open door and passed him asleep on the bed. He spared a glance at Tim, he had fallen asleep in his binder and some sweatpants. Jon rolled his eyes, again, no matter how many times he’d told Tim how bad of an idea it was to sleep in his binder, Tim would not listen enough to care. He supposed he did not blame him, dysphoria was a bitch. But it did not mean he could not at least attempt to look out for Tim’s health.
A little ironic given he was the one going to smoke a cigarette right after waking up, so he supposed he could not complain too much.
He leaned against the metal railing, lighting his cigarette and going through the motions of smoking it. It was cold out. The sun was barely up and he doubted it’d get much warmer. It was London, after all. He had goosebumps from the chill but could not bother with going to grab a jacket. And anyway, the chill woke him up. Jon closed his eyes, blowing out smoke and listening to the world around him. It was loud and quiet at the same time. The sound of people talking in hushed tones was all around. Birds were chirping somewhere. The wind was whipping around.
His mind wandered. He had been told recently he would be taking the archivist position to replace Gertrude. Logically he knew he should be excited or proud or something . But inside… nothing. He was worried, maybe. It was difficult to tell. All he knew was that he would have to break up with Tim soon. A sting of tears hit his closed eyes and he opened them only to blink rapidly. He leaned his head back, shutting his eyes tight again. It would be plain irresponsible to stay with Tim. Even if they were not in a serious relationship, a boss and his employee is a whole problem and a half.
Besides the work problem of it, Jon knew he would have had to break it off at some point or another. To put it simply, they were both idiots. Idiots who had rushed into a mess of a relationship with ill-discussed boundaries and poorly thought out approaches at communication. When they came into the relationship they had made the agreement that romantically, they were exclusive. But since Jon was a sex repulsed ace and, well, Tim was very much not , they had both said Tim could still hook up with all the people he wanted. And functionally this worked fine. But Jon still felt… weird, about it all. Maybe it was guilt or jealousy. He did not know and tried to not care. Maybe it was because they never talked about it further. Jon did not know.
Even past that, Jon just… he truly did not know Tim that well. He did not know what Tim wanted in the future. Tim was not the most emotionally-there person. Every small thing built up until Jon just felt sick.
He could hear movement from inside the room. When Tim had got up and moved to be beside him he finally opened his eyes and glanced at him. Tim gave a slight nod.
“You alright?” He asked. Over his binder he had thrown on a tank top and was leaning with his back against the railing, staring at Jon.
“Mmm,” Jon hummed.
“Mmm?” Tim tilted his head, “That’s all?” A smile played on his lips slightly.
Jon looked down and away, blowing out smoke. He put out his cigarette, tossing it to the cement floor of the balcony. His eyes still did not meet Tim’s, instead focusing on anything else he could find.
Now was not the time to break up.
He was in a too-big t-shirt and sweatpants, both of which were Tim’s. A shit ton of his stuff was in Tim’s flat. He had work tomorrow. Now was not the time to break up.
“Jon?” Tim’s playful tone had faltered.
His hand fell to Jon’s arm and he almost jumped at the touch. Jon hummed a purposely unclear response. He pushed the hair away that had fallen in his face.
If he said anything now, he would regret it. He had not thought anything out. And Tim was… Tim. If he said something the wrong way it would be hard to take the hurt back. If he said something now he was destined to destroy not only his relationship but also friendship with Tim. What was he supposed to do? His hand shook and he did not know if it was from the cold or from the aching wound of sadness that he was slowly tearing in his own heart.
“Jon,” Tim’s voice cut through Jon’s thoughts.
“Yeah,” Jon responded, “That’s all.”
He could see Tim give him a weird look. Hesitantly, he pulled away his hand and flipped around to lean his arms on the metal railing.
“What’s up with you?” Tim’s voice was still rough with sleep and a hangover.
“Nothing,” Jon mumbled.
Tim snorted, “Yeah, sure.”
Silence stung the air almost as much as the cold. Now was not the time to break up. Jon kept repeating it to himself over and over.
“Elias gave me Gertrude’s job. I am head archivist now,” Jon finally said.
“Oh,” Tim nodded, “And you’re acting like this… why?”
Now was not the time to break up.
“I will be able to invite assistant archivists,” Jon continued.
“Mhm?” Tim did not get it.
Now was not the time to break up. But Jonathan Sims and bad ideas went hand in hand.
“You will be one,” he said. Just bite the bullet and say it, he thought. “We need to break up.”
“Oh,” was all Tim managed to mumble.
That was not the time to break up. Jon could have hit himself with how idiotic it was. He dropped his head. In the back of his mind he had almost wished Tim would have said something more by now. Something that would give him further reason to follow through with the break up. But it was Tim. Stupid, dumb, amazing, funny, and pretty Tim. Why would he ever give Jon a reason to hate him?
“So,” Tim’s voice was more rough than before. “We’re, uh, over then?”
It took Jon a few seconds before he could respond.
“Yeah,” he finally looked Tim in the eyes. “We are.”
Tim turned to him, his hair tousled, his eyes red, and his face not quite sad or angry. He was the only man Jon had loved in recent memory. He was always there for Jon. He was respectful and understanding. And yet, he was irresponsible. He was distant even when he was close. He wasn’t right for Jon. He was like a drug. Too difficult to give up fully.
Jon leaned up slightly and pressed a light kiss to Tim’s lips.
“I’m sorry,” Jon whispered.
He kissed Tim only once more, then walked away.
That was not the time to break up.
~
Tim was sitting on his bed. Jon had left his flat an hour ago. But he couldn’t move. He was stuck. Stuck physically and mentally.
Where had that come from?
He and Jon had been laughing and having a good time last night. They’d been happy. At least, Tim had. He was starting to doubt himself. It couldn’t purely be getting the job that caused Jon to break up, could it? But Jon was good at sharing most of his reasons, usually, so why would it be any different now? Had Tim done something?
He couldn’t think right. His face was still wet with tears.
Why? That was the question he kept asking himself. Why had Jon just left after? Why had he kissed him? Tim touched his fingers to his lips. The lingering feeling it had caused.
Why couldn’t he keep anyone?
He’d lost his brother. His parents. Hell, most of the time he couldn’t keep friends around. At least half of his personality was that he hooked up with people and didn’t stay with them. And now, he’d lost Jon as well.
Maybe it was for the better.
Because, truly, one day he would crash and burn. And in that wreckage he wouldn’t want to have dragged everyone around him down with him. In that wreck, he would want to be alone, the only fatality. A death of his own recklessness; his own rage and pain and hurt.
He needed to do something stupid. It was all too much. He needed to feel alive.
Yet, he needed to sit there and cry.
And if he was being honest, crying was a lot easier.