"Yeah." Kinda. Jay got hauled back from the brink of wherever it was he ended up, and Tim - well, he's more than a little grateful for that. He's not sure if saying it aloud counts for a lie any more than thinking it in his head, but either way he's grateful there's no tingling of a sneeze in the back of his throat.
He looks at Jay, short and sidelong, and folds his arms, curling them around him as he realizes he's not sure what to say next. What do people talk about. Well, actually, he knows that bit - he knows how people talk and can deal with curt exchanges well enough, which is in part why curt exchanges dominated his and Jay's entire vocabulary for the better part of their acquaintanceship.
And, what are they, friends now? He doesn't know how that works. Brian was the talker and Tim the listener, and they were content to exist in their roles. But Jay's never going to be the one to go on and on while Tim half-heartedly tries to tune a ukelele. He doesn't talk like Brian did. Tim's not even really sure if Jay actually had friends in college, what his personal life was like. Something cold clenches in his gut, and he cringes. That just paints every time Tim was a raging asshole in such great light, doesn't it, some of that bitter hypocrisy and more of the same.
"Okay," Tim blurts, his look hard. "Look. We're friends, right?" No sneeze. Right. Bolstered, he keeps forging ahead. "So I don't - know anything about you. Like, aren't I supposed to at minimum know useless shit like, uh, I dunno, your birthday? What's your favorite color? What'd you major in?" He's not sure why this is riling him up - this is the kind of conversation meant to put people at ease, but all his frustration has boiled over and now he's just talking, probably more words than he's strung together in a long, long damn time. "I don't know you. Not really."
no subject
He looks at Jay, short and sidelong, and folds his arms, curling them around him as he realizes he's not sure what to say next. What do people talk about. Well, actually, he knows that bit - he knows how people talk and can deal with curt exchanges well enough, which is in part why curt exchanges dominated his and Jay's entire vocabulary for the better part of their acquaintanceship.
And, what are they, friends now? He doesn't know how that works. Brian was the talker and Tim the listener, and they were content to exist in their roles. But Jay's never going to be the one to go on and on while Tim half-heartedly tries to tune a ukelele. He doesn't talk like Brian did. Tim's not even really sure if Jay actually had friends in college, what his personal life was like. Something cold clenches in his gut, and he cringes. That just paints every time Tim was a raging asshole in such great light, doesn't it, some of that bitter hypocrisy and more of the same.
"Okay," Tim blurts, his look hard. "Look. We're friends, right?" No sneeze. Right. Bolstered, he keeps forging ahead. "So I don't - know anything about you. Like, aren't I supposed to at minimum know useless shit like, uh, I dunno, your birthday? What's your favorite color? What'd you major in?" He's not sure why this is riling him up - this is the kind of conversation meant to put people at ease, but all his frustration has boiled over and now he's just talking, probably more words than he's strung together in a long, long damn time. "I don't know you. Not really."