"Tim," he says pleadingly, trying to grasp at his hands, stop him from hurting himself. "Tim, no."

It's no good. He can't do shit. He remembers only distantly what this feels like, and how impossible it is to keep it from happening. He keeps his hands on Tim even as he goes still and silent. Gone. For a moment Jay almost hopes he'll just wake up. Maybe this can't happen in a dream. Maybe-

And then he wakes back up, only it's not him anymore, not with those distant staring eyes. He lifts his hands away and backs off a bit. Even if Tim can't hurt him he still feels wary.

"Let him go," he whispers, angry and hopeless.