It's in the yard behind the shop when Tim finally snaps.
He's been trying. He really has. He's been reading instead of lying around the house doing nothing; he's been catching up with TV shows that he actually wants to see, rather than just having the set on in the background. Hell, he even started taking classes at the leisure centre where Brian taught. Tim's been trying.
But he also hasn't been sleeping very well recently, again, and this word seems to have reached his doctor's office.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he says into the phone line. It's too crackly - the static grates across his ears, and Tim grits his teeth.
"We weren't sure if we wanted to add it to your prescription yet, Timothy-" his doctor replies calmly. Yeah, they might be on a first name basis after so long, but it's always thewrong first name on his doctor's end.
"Oh, really? It was never up for discussion with me, though, huh. I thought there was meant to be, like, a patient-doctor communication thing going on here, but I guess not!" he shouts back.
"Timothy, we were going to discuss it at your next appointment, but we really think it would be best if..."
And Tim snaps. He snaps, as his doctor details plans that he was never fully told about, and how they can make him better but without ever really explaining how. He's got enough problems to overcome already, and he's been trying. He's been trying so hard.
"You know what?" he yells into the receiver, "FUCK YOU-"
And he throws the phone clear across the grassy square that makes up the yard behind the shop. He sees it fall to pieces as it hits the ground, the back and the battery flying in separate directions, but he doesn't care because no-one is going to call him anyway. "FUCK YOU!" he screams again. Hands, shaking with rage, run through dark hair and over weary lines on his face, and Tim sinks to the floor. What's he meant to do now?
He's angry. But he's also afraid. And he's very, very tired.
It takes a few seconds for the sound of footsteps, crunching over gravel and grass, to seep their way through the noise of blood pounding in his ears. He can't bring himself to tell Lorna to fuck off, too, so he closes his eyes and wishes that his head wasn't such a strange and frightening place to explore. But Lorna doesn't leave, and for some reason, even decides to sit down next to him. This is strange, because she usually "can't stand that kind of sappy shit".
When Tim looks up, it's not even Lorna who's there.
Across from him, hugging his knees, is Jay. He's staring off into the distance, and it looks like he's left his slightly-stupid cap inside, because his hair's all ruffled, but the hat is nowhere to be seen. Tim exhales heavily, trying to expel his seething fury. Jay doesn't need to put up with him being all moody and mad at someone who isn't him. It's not his fault.
Jay turns to look at him. He doesn't look curious, or sad, or even freaked out. He just looks a little bit worried.
Tim's not used to that look. One without pity. A look he hasn't seen for so long.
"Why are you here, Jay?" he asks him, trying to keep his voice steady. It wavers slightly, but Jay either doesn't notice or pretends not to.
Jay blinks. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I'm not," Tim laughs. It sounds hollow, and horribly empty. "I'm really not okay."
"Well... I guess you can count me in as moral support then," Jay smiles, and his smile is far more genuine than Tim's laugh.
Tim doesn't know what to say, so he struggles with: "um... Thanks."
"You're welcome."
They sit there in silence until Tim's break is over.
At the end of Jay's shift, he leaves as he usually does, which entails hovering outside the door to the book sorting room awkwardly, shouldering his backpack, and mumbling goodbye to whoever is on duty. Tim gets off work when the store closes at five thirty, but he rarely says goodbye to anyone.
It's raining as he steps outside. Lorna follows him.
"Need a light?" she says, smirking and holding out a luminous orange lighter.
"No. I'm quitting."
"Christ," Lorna replies. She places a cigarette between her lips, and instead brings the lighter to her own mouth. "Wish I could. Every time I try to quit, I end up starting back up again a week later."
"I'm not trying," Tim corrects her. "I'm quitting. Simple as that."
"Christ," Lorna repeats, and raises her eyebrows. "I'm going home. See you tomorrow."
Tim stands by the front door for a little longer after she leaves, heavy boots sending up spray from the rain. God, what was he even doing with his life? It was starting to look on the up, too. Helping yourself out of trouble was so much harder than everyone made it out to be.
He wards off the negative thoughts by getting into his car and cranking up the temperature, letting the engine warm up for a little while so the steam from the windscreen cleared. Tossing his broken phone into the glove compartment, he pulls out into the road, making mental notes as he goes. Get a new phone, or get his old one fixed up somewhat. Pack kit for martial arts tonight. Call his doctor from his home line, say sorry when he doesn't mean it, and ask for a new appointment.
Those are more long term than the list he makes next: check to see if there are any other cars on the road. Pull over. Ask Jay why the hell he's walking home an hour after he left work, in the pouring rain at that.
He does these. "Why the hell are you out in the rain?" he asks.
Jay, who had been startled by the car until he'd seen who was driving, gestures to his pulled up hood. "I'm okay." he mumbles.
Yeah, Tim isn't going to buy that. Not for one second. He leans across and opens the passenger door. "Where are you headed?" he asks. "I'm not gonna tell you twice. Get in the damn car, you moron."
Shaking his hair before he climbs in, Jay slams the door, and hold his hands discretely over the heaters. "It's uh..."
"Were you going home? I didn't realise you lived on that side of town, but okay-"
"Um, no," Jay interrupts. He won't make eye contact with Tim, and he looks strangely embarrassed. "It's, uh, actually back there..."
A car overtakes them, the driver making a pointed glance towards them, but Tim doesn't see and he probably wouldn't care if he had seen. He jerks his head towards the passenger seat and stares. "Then why the hell were you walking that way?!" he asks incredulously.
"...I was trying to avoid someone, so I took the long way around," Jay admits. His eyes are fixed on the handle to the glove compartment like it's the most interesting method of storage he's ever seen in his life.
"Man, you really didn't want to see this guy. Or girl. Have you pissed someone off?" Tim says. He make a not-quite-legal manoeuvre that turns them back towards the way they'd come. "Actually," he starts again, "I don't wanna know. Not if you don't want to talk about it. We've all got enough problems we don't wanna share, right? I figure if you wanna go home the wrong way in this weather, then it's probably not something I can do anything about."
Jay finally looks up, but Tim can only spare him a momentary glance before he has to concentrate on the road again.
After a long time, Jay says: "I'll work out what to do eventually."
After driving in silence for a little while, Tim pulls up to an apartment building. It's fairly near to campus, but... Jay must be really alone here. Isolated, almost. Tim wonders if Jay lives alone, and what he does apart from study.
"Here you are," he says.
Jay doesn't move, just for a second. "D... D'ya want to come in?" he asks quietly.
"I can't. I have judo tonight," Tim says, making a face. For a moment, he can't quite believe that he genuinely wants to join Jay in his apartment and hang out. "Oh, wait, hang on. I can give you- Oh no, I can't. Shit, no, I broke my phone," he clarifies, "I was gonna give you my number in case you needed any help. Y'know, with that person you're avoiding."
He's probably not made any sense at all, but it seems to elicit some sort of response. Looking like he could burst into tears at any moment, Jay plays with the door handle: "do you have any paper?" he asks.
Tim gestures towards the glove box, and Jay writes on the back of the manual for Tim's car. "This is my number," Jay explains, "is that okay?"
"Yeah, sure. Be careful."
Jay opens the door, sighing heavily as though it would calm him down. "Thanks," he breathes unsteadily.
"Welcome."
The harsh, wet wind is gone as soon as Jay closes the door, and Tim watches him to the door, before driving home in the rain. He questions as to whether or not it's the right way, though.
Sorry this one took so long. I lost this chapter's contents twice. I was quite put out, to say the least...
If there are any British-isms that are staggeringly unsuitable for an American setting, please don't hesitate to correct my writing. Thanks for reading!