Chapter Text
Tim sat hunched over Jay’s hospital bed, his head in his hands. He had barely gotten to Jay in time back at Benedict Hall, and he still felt his blood on his hands, despite having scrubbed them so hard his skin started peeling. Whenever he looked at his own hands, there were moments he swore he could still see a red tinge to his skin.
Jay had passed out on the drive to the hospital and hadn’t woken up since. Despite everything Tim had been through, everything that had happened to him these past few years, that was the most terrified he’d ever been.
He remembered shouting at Jay as he sped down the road, reaching an arm over to shake him, trying to wake him up. He remembered how his heart dropped when Jay didn’t respond, though he barely remembered the actual details of the drive. He did remember—as if watching from an outside perspective—him picking Jay up in his arms and stumbling through the hospital doors. He knew he rambled something out, but he didn’t know how well articulated it actually was.
He nearly fell to his knees when the nurses took Jay from his arms and rolled him away on a stretcher. When he couldn’t physically feel Jay anymore, when he couldn’t watch to make sure he was still breathing, still alive he fell apart. He couldn’t remember how much he cried, or what he said to the nurses who surrounded him, but he knew he wanted Jay back. He had to tell himself, convince himself, that the doctors were going to help him and he needed to let them. Everything after that was a blur.
He knew he said something about how Jay had been shot since the nurses asked. He thinks he just told a slightly warped version of the truth; how one of their old college friends had lost it and got violent during a conversation they were having. The nurses hadn’t asked for more clarification yet, thank God, probably giving him some time to collect himself.
It had been a couple days now, and the best he had gotten about Jay was that he was stable. As happy as Tim was that he was no longer in immediate danger of dying, his previous anxiety was replaced with the fear that Jay would never wake up. He had to fight tooth and nail to even be allowed in the room considering he wasn’t a relative. Though he knew he was all Jay had.
He hated being here. The orderlies were relatively nice, and it wasn’t the same as a mental hospital, but he was growing more and more paranoid the longer he stayed here. He didn’t like Jay’s life being in the hands of them.
And not only was it that; this was the longest he and Jay had been kept in one place since they started working together. Every couple minutes, Tim expected Alex or the man in the hood to crash through the door and harm them. He was constantly looking over his shoulder, thinking he’d see The Operator looming over him, ready to separate him and Jay. When he had picked Jay up in his arms, holding him close, begging him to stay awake, he felt the buzzing in his head and the coughs rising up in his throat. He still doesn’t know how he managed to make it out of the building and over to his car.
He wouldn’t leave Jay here, though; not for a second. He pretended he didn’t notice how much sleep he was losing every night, how his nightmares had gotten worse, how his paranoia had been increasing with every passing day. No matter how bad he got, he wouldn’t leave Jay here. He had slept by Jay’s bedside every night, resting his head on the bed, not wanting to move away from Jay. A few times now he had woken up holding Jay’s hand, despite having no memory of falling asleep holding it.
He needed to be here in case he woke up. One of the worst things Tim remembered about being in that hospital was waking up after a seizure, or an episode, completely alone. He had no one there to explain what had happened, to comfort him. He would not let Jay go through the same thing. He was also so worried that the moment he left, Alex would come back to finish what he started. If nothing else, Tim had to be here to protect Jay. To keep him safe like he couldn’t before.
He didn’t even know if Jay still wanted him around. He wouldn’t have blamed him if he didn’t, after all of the lying. He couldn’t forget the look in Jay’s eyes when he found out about the tape. He looked so hurt, and betrayed, and angry. How he had showed up at Tim’s door with a knife in his hands and none of the hesitant kindness in his eyes Tim had become accustomed to. Yet when he found Jay in that room at the school… he saw none of that. He saw hope, and relief, and dare he say love.
It was in the moment where he rushed over to Jay, pressing his hands into his side, reassuring him that he would be okay, that he realized how much he loved Jay. He didn’t know how he didn’t realize it sooner. Looking back now, it was obvious. How his heart fluttered with every accidental touch, with how caring Jay was when Tim had a nightmare or a particularly bad bout of dissociation. He even thought Jay might’ve felt the same at some point. Those feelings were probably gone now though, after what he did. No matter what he thought he saw in Jay’s eyes.
He needed Jay to wake up. He needed to tell him how he felt, even if Jay hated him now. He needed Jay to know how sorry he was and how much he cared about him.
Tim lifted his head from his hands, staring blankly in Jay’s direction. He had run out of tears to cry at this point, at least for now. He watched the steady rise and fall of Jay’s chest, reminding himself with every inhale that Jay was alive and with every exhale that he would stay that way.
“...Jay, you have to wake up,” Tim whispered, his voice hoarse from lack of use. He needed to talk to Jay, even if he couldn’t respond, even if he couldn’t hear him at all. He grabbed one of Jay’s hands and held it with his own.
“I can’t… I can’t do this alone. I’d forgive you if you never spoke to me again... but I need you to wake up. I’m sorry for lying to you, I’m sorry for leaving you alone in my house,” Tim said as he stroked Jay’s hand with his thumb absentmindedly.
“Every day we spend here, I’m worried Alex is going to find us and I can’t—I can’t watch him hurt you again. Whenever I sleep I dream of you. I dream that you—that you died in my arms, I dream that I was too late to get to you…” Tim trailed off, trying to shake the thoughts from his mind. He swallowed the lump in his throat.
“I need you to wake up. I need to hear your voice, to hear you say that you’re okay. You can yell at me if you want, Lord knows I deserve it.”
Tim went silent, the only sound filling the room was Jay’s heart-rate monitor. The sound helped convince Tim that Jay’s heart was beating. Even though he could watch Jay’s chest rise and fall, hear the consistent beep of the machine, it was hard for him to believe that Jay was still here. He felt as if ever time he closed his eyes, he was back in that school, hearing the gunshot echo behind him. He felt like the image of Jay laying motionless on the floor, bleeding out, was burnt into his eyelids.
Every time he woke from a nightmare, he had to sit and watch Jay’s breathing for at least an hour before he could even think about falling back asleep. It was as if he thought if he took his eyes of Jay for even a second, he would disappear. He had to hold Jay’s hand, place a hand on his cheek, anything to remind himself that Jay still had the warmth of life.
Tim slowly, as if he was still debating making the decision as he did it, brought Jay’s hand up and gently pressed his lips to his knuckles.
“Just—Please come back to me… I need you.”