Jay flinches back when Tim rounds on him, remembering too well the last time he blew up like this, that time in the parking lot; this time there's no punch to accompany it, but the vitriol hurts just as much. He stands there and takes it, keeping his head tilted, avoiding eye contact.

When it stops the silence is deafening, the struggle to respond is almost physical; Jay stammers for a moment, not sure what to say, what the hell can he say to that?

And before he can figure it out, footsteps, and Tim's distracted, and the moment is gone, maybe for the better. Jay looks up, his breath quickening a little. Alex? Maybe Totheark? Or something else. It doesn't matter what. Anything is bad.

"Let's go," he whispers, and starts moving, nudging past Tim, not bothering to stay behind him. It won't matter and they both know it.