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[mrballisticsdummy]

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[statementfuckingends]

"He's a fucking coward." Very nearly at normal volume, that one. "He thought siding with Elias was easier than listening to Jon."

[mrballisticsdummy]

Jacobi hesitates there.

He loves Jon.

He loves Jon. But even in his drunken state, he knows how Jon can be. And he's met Elias.

He knows how Elias can be.

"So he went and used him like you thought he would do to me," he mutters. "Only I wasn't dumb enough to actually keep going."

Idiot seems better than coward.

[statementfuckingends]

"Daniel would've known about Elias just as well as you," he mutters, turning his face away. "Probably better if he was as short-sighted as Jon made him sound. Didn't stop him choosing to do it anyway."

[mrballisticsdummy]

Jacobi nods once. "Yeah, the choice is - that's the important part." He sits back, spreading his hands out a bit. But when that doesn't work, when they don't support his weight, he just falls back onto his blankets. "How long are you going to stay before you try and sneak your way out of here?"

[statementfuckingends]

He wants to smile, but his face doesn't quite manage it. "What, you're not gonna help me go stay at Jon's?"

[mrballisticsdummy]

There's something blank in Jacobi's face when he mentions Jon. Something deep. Something the alcohol can't touch.

"I will. Whenever you want. He's - not awake yet."

[statementfuckingends]

It's Tim's turn to look concerned, and he rolls onto his side, reaches over to rest his hand on Jacobi's arm, stroking gently with his thumb. It doesn't take much of a leap, even as foggy as his head is.

"I'm so sorry, Jacobi."

[mrballisticsdummy]

Jacobi shies away from his touch, from the words. "It's fine, Tim. I didn't have to kill him."

But he remembers scrubbing blood from his nails in the shower. He remembers the sounds that he made and the way Jon gripped him in the end. "Get some rest. We'll go to Jon when I'm a little more sober."

[statementfuckingends]

But Tim's hand follows him, tries to grip his wrist with what little strength he has.

"Jacobi, listen. There wasn't another way it was going to end. Jon knew that. It's not. Your. Fault."

[mrballisticsdummy]

Jacobi's temper flares and he won't pull away, won't hurt him, but his voice is hard. "Don't push it," he snaps. "Not right now."

Of course it's his fault. He might not have been able to prevent this, but he was supposed to protect Jon. He failed him.

[statementfuckingends]

Tim doesn't release him, not quite yet.

"Last one. Promise." Then he'll leave you to wallow, Jacobi, he just has to know. "Who...?"

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Lark. We were both with him," he says softly. "I'll - I'll tell you everything later." When he can think. When he can breathe.

[statementfuckingends]

He nods, and gives Jacobi a gentle squeeze before he lets go.

"Want your bed back?"

[mrballisticsdummy]

"No. You need it more than me right now." He flops back down on the blankets on the floor. "And you look like you hog the blankets anyway."

[statementfuckingends]

"Fucking slander," he mumbles, but it's almost a smile. It takes effort, and more pain, but he manages to roll onto his stomach to give his screaming back a break from the pressure and textures. His arm stays flopped off the bed, fingers brushing Jacobi's blanket. But he lets himself slip back into exhaustion, his next words a trailing mumble. "'m a bloody gentleman..."

[mrballisticsdummy]

"And I snore," he mutters, reaching over to take Tim's hand in his own as the world spins. He closes his eyes and tries to rest.