Chapter Text
Tim Wright had never been one for optimism or nice, fluffy sentiments.
He’d always liked to think of himself as a realist: hope for the best, prepare for the worst, that kind of vibe. Don’t let yourself dwell on the past, move forward, but keep your expectations low. After all, the lower your expectations, the more pleasantly surprising anything remotely positive will be.
But between the endless driving and the tedious flitting from cheap to even cheaper motel, Tim had admitted to himself that without some form of optimistic bullshit to deludedly focus on through this mortifying mess of a situation, he would go mad.
So, he decided with a reluctant sigh, maybe the old, cliché sign above his grandma’s kitchen door was right. Maybe he did have to focus on “the little things” to be happy in this life. His little revelation probably should have sparked some reaction from him - like a smile or a nostalgic daydream or something. But Tim just aimlessly tapped at his steering wheel and deadpanned the stagnant cars waiting in tightly packed queues that just screamed passive aggressive impatience, as the thought immediately filtered away into the back of his mind.
Albeit, there weren’t many things in his life to be particularly thrilled about. Spending your days desperately trying in a futile attempt to remember chunks of your memory that dissipated to who-knows-where while running and hiding from hooded stalkers and eldritch stickmen will do that to you. But he supposed, if he really considered it, there were some little things he enjoyed.
He liked it when he wasn’t looking over his shoulder every five minutes to see a figure with a creepy sad face. Those were the times he could instead just sit in silence with his eyes closed in the safety of his own familiar car, breathing his own familiar air and just be. The moments where, like this one for just a second, it felt like he was normal. On his own, enjoying his own company. Without any—
Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.
Tim opened his eyes to glare at the offensive interruption. Just as he had been enjoying the peace, too.
With a heavy sigh and one more glance around at the still cars all around him – some even with their engines fully off, and their drives poking their heads through open windows to yell at the roadblock ahead – Tim reached for his phone. Flipping the screen open, he accepted the call without looking at who it was.
After all, the only people who had his number that could be calling were his doctor and Jay, and why would Jay call when he was a total of four metres away in the car behind Tim’s own? He had explained to his doctor that he would be going away for a couple months or so, but maybe he just wanted to do mobile check-ups anyway. Hopefully they wouldn’t still be coming out of Tim’s slowly depleting check.
“Hey, Tim speaking,” he said on auto-pilot, drumming his fingers against the wheel.
“Uh, hi, Jay speaking,” the voice on the other side replied, a smile lacing the words. Tim blinked before reaching up and adjusting the rear-view mirror with his free hand so he could see the car behind him. Sure enough, Jay had his phone to his ear in his own car, fiddling with what looked like an aux cord in his lap.
“Long time no speak,” Tim tried, confused. “There a reason you’re calling? Everything okay?”
Jay nodded in the mirror and waved his hand dismissively. “Yeah, all good. Just… I don’t know, bored, I guess.”
At that, Tim snorted. “Tell me about it.”
There was a lull that stretched uncomfortably for a few agonising moments, before Tim shrugged bewilderedly.
“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” Tim saw the way Jay rolled his eyes and huffed through his nose.
“I don’t know, talk or something? Isn’t that what friends are supposed to do?”
“Oh, we’ve reached the friend stage, have we?” Tim murmured with a smirk. Jay looked up slightly, eyes a little wider than before, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. It was a good thing that Tim had this secret little one-way view of his companion, because otherwise Tim probably wouldn’t have felt the need to backtrack like he did now.
“I was joking,” he clarified briskly. “That was a joke. I can talk at you, if needs be.”
Jay didn’t seem to relax, but it wasn’t as if Tim could pick up on micro-expressions and body mannerisms through a musty mirror reflecting a far-away, bird-shit covered windshield, so he didn’t pay it much mind. Jay always seemed so up-tight anyway; Tim should probably lay off on sarcastic jokes like that. He wasn’t surprised to know that the guy was the type to take those sort of quips seriously.
“Okay,” Jay said, scratching at his chin as he leaned his head against his window, gazing glumly at the shiny, red Honda parked in the next lane over beside him. “I mean, we can always play, like… I Spy or something.”
Despite himself, Tim barked out a laugh. “I Spy? What are we, nine years old?”
Jay shrugged defensively and threw his arm up. “What? It’s a solid game.”
“Alright, I spy with my little eye something beginning with ‘C’.”
“Oh, uh. Cars?”
“No, it’s the 'child' sat in the car behind me.”
Tim couldn’t help but notice the amused smile Jay hid behind his palm and another classic eyeroll as he went back to looking out of his window. Tim chuckled himself, before settling down further into his seat and sighing. He couldn’t see a lot through this mirror, but it was a convenient enough view that he could just about catch the way that Jay’s eyes crinkled a little when he smiled wide enough, his sallow cheeks lifting just a little higher than usual.
It was nice being able to see that he wasn’t completely alone out here. Even though he had just been thinking to himself that it was nice to be by himself in silence. And even though he was surrounded by cars full of people. People who were now resorting to obnoxious car horns and profanities rather than the phenomenon known as waiting.
“When do you think this’ll get moving again?” Jay asked down the phone. Tim looked back up at his mirror to see Jay gazing out of his own window, chin still in hand as he glared at the treeline beside the road. Tim shrugged, even though he knew Jay couldn’t see him.
“No idea. Hopefully before Christmas. Can’t imagine trying to catch a turkey out here.”
It wasn’t a particularly clever or funny joke, but Jay still had the decency to exhale a humoured snigger. “I’d be more worried about the cold. Takes up too much gas to have the heater on all the time. It’s already getting colder, have you noticed?”
Raising his eyebrows bemusedly at the fact that, even after around a month of motel-hopping together, they were still stuck at the kind of small talk where you talk awkwardly about the weather, Tim paused.
He knew they weren’t particularly close, but were their conversations really so few and far between that they still had to rely on that tactic? Maybe Tim should put more effort into talking for the sake of talking, instead of just the occasional stunted “G’night, Jay” or the more frequent panicked “What? Did you see something?”.
“Yeah well,” Tim sighed eventually as he stretched, pushing his shoulders against his seat and clicking his back with a satisfying pop. “I’m sure we’ll get moving soon. If we’re lucky, we’ll even make it to the next place before Thanksgiving.”
“You’re a comedic genius, Tim.”
“Thanks. I do try.”
That same silence hovered for the second time, only this time it was less uncomfortable. It settled neatly over the two – not quite right, but not awful. Like a really good-quality blanket, but one that you can’t quite appreciate because you’re just a little bit too warm for an extra layer.
Either way, it wasn’t bad. Not as awful as some of their previous interactions. Tim cringed at himself. Maybe he really should put more effort into just chatting with his apparent partner in crime. It astonished him that it took an impulsive, boredom-induced game of I Spy to spark the realisation that, though he really should at this point, he hardly really knew anything about Jay.
You could describe their relationship as purely professional, in a way. In the way that work friends will politely tolerate each other when they have to, but that’s about it – and in this case, their 'profession' consisted of running and hiding from a film-freak with a gun.
It wasn't as if they were completely apathetic - they looked out for each other, as you would in their situation. Mostly because they only really had each other left; no one else knew about what was going on or would even believe them if they bothered to try explaining it.
But that was it, really.
The image of Jay’s deer-in-headlights jolt when Tim had made the friend-stage joke flashed in his mind, and Tim wasn't a fan of the way his gut roiled with a slight sense of guilt. Maybe that wasn’t Jay being too uptight. Maybe he really didn’t know if what they had could be considered friendship. Tim’s eyes widened a little as he realised that might have actually been the first time the topic had been brought up.
But as Tim watched Jay yawn sleepily and rub at his sunken eyes, he found himself instinctively scrunching up his nose at the idea. They were friends – they had to be.
And if the line between friends and trauma-bonded-acquaintances really was that hazy, then he would have to make a conscious effort to make it clearer.
Tim was brought back to earth at the sight of Jay squinting lazily through the cool light of midday as it filtered through a passing cloud and draped itself directly over Jay’s car. He scoffed and held a hand up to shield his eyes as if he were allergic to the soft glow, and Tim chuckled. He saw Jay freeze at the sound and look down at his phone, then back up at the back of Tim’s car.
Tim grimaced and hurriedly cleared his throat – for some reason getting increasingly nervous at the idea of Jay finding out he had actually been kind of watching him during their supposed 'voice-only' phone call. Was it creepy? Maybe it was creepy.
“So…” Tim slurred, dragging out the word, very conscious of how long it had been since either of them said a word. Jay looked outside of his side window again, fiddling with the aux cord in his left hand. “How about that game of I Spy?”
This time, Jay actually let out a small laugh. Tim smiled and shook his head, reaching up to twist the rear-view so he could no longer spy on his newly-considered-friend, unbeknownst to anyone but him.
For all Tim said he was a realist, or maybe even a bit of a pessimist, he could admit that sometimes the little things were nice to think about. Like ringing up your friend in a traffic jam because you’re bored and want someone to chat to for the hell of it.