He could almost hear the conversations from his apartment. The window was cracked open, rain was pouring, it was gloomy out. Cars were loud, their horns going off. Jason was trying to focus on anything other than the thoughts in his head. The thoughts in his head were driving him crazy. Every single thing he was putting himself down and it hurt.
Jason knew that he needed to change, he needed to do something about it. Something about the empty feeling, something about the sudden feeling of his own weight, how he wanted to let his body just fall down and lay on the floor. But at the same time, he felt floaty, like if he were to stop telling himself to stay standing, then he would fall back and float up into the air. Nothing was right, everything was wrong.
His head hurt. It hurt a lot.
He didn't know when he had started moving. Neither did he know how slow he was moving. Everything felt dark. His head hurt. He opened a bedroom door. Where was he? He couldn't focus. Did he feel tears? What was going on?
Suddenly there was a feeling of weight. When Jason focused back in, he noticed something. Tim. He was holding Tim. Like a weighted stuffed animal. Jason blinked, the tears that had formed fell, but those were the first and last of Jason's tears.
Jason held Tim a bit closer now. He took a deep breath and just calmed down with the weight of the teen he was holding. It was nice. Jason fixed his hold on Tim. If he were to let go, something would happen and Jason didn't know what would happen but he knew it wouldn't be good at all. So he was just going to hold Tim and Tim wasn't going to be able to leave for a while and Jason was fine with that, he hoped Tim was. Jason just..
When he hears the sound of the door creaking open, Tim's gaze flicks up to see Jason. He wasn't exactly expecting it to be anyone else, but he's learned it's always better to check. Tim would rather not be caught off guard. Especially when it can be completely avoidable.
"Hey," he hums, before focusing back on what he was doing. The lack of response from Jason isn't concerning per se, but it's definitely enough to make Tim question it. He's about to ask too, but before he can open his mouth Jason decides to use him as a human sized plush.
Tim squirms a bit, twisting so he can actually look at Jason. Oh. He's crying. Not a lot, but it's still happening. He seems out of it. A tearful Jason is not something Tim sees everyday. He sighs softly.
There's no point in bothering to ask if he's okay when he so obviously isn't. Tim doesn't bother to wiggle out of his grip either. Instead he pats Jason's arm in an attempt to soothe, but honestly it just feels really awkward. Being good at comfort is unfortunately not in his skill set.
At the very least, he can stay here for Jason. Besides, it's been a while since they've been this close. They're both always too busy with something or another to indulge in sibling bonding time. Which means Tim would be absolutely lying if he said he didn't like the contact, but it's not something he plans on admitting either.
Tim's never been good at lying still for long periods of time, but it's fine. He'll manage. Disturbing Jason is the last thing on his non-existent bucket list. He can wait it out. He's good at that. Patience is a virtue, or something.
