The Static In Your Eyes - Tim Wright x Reader

It was days after that Friday that Tim went with Jay up to the woods looking for "movie sets," despite me warning Tim about the fact that Jay truly wasn't making a movie at all. Since then, I've noticed something different about Tim. He's gotten quieter and something about the aura around him seemed a bit darker, it was as if he was irritable or paranoid - something that I had felt in the past months especially trailing the incident in the woods with Jay. I regret not confiding in Tim about what happened in the woods that day or telling him what little I could remember. It was just difficult to talk about. Now that Jay has dragged Tim into the same sort of situation, I can't help but feel like it's a little bit my fault, and there's an angry pit in my abdomen scolding me for it. It was the coughing that I heard from Tim's chest that really triggered some memories for me, it was akin to the same coughing I had before I eventually recovered from the incident in the woods with Jay. I didn't know much about what Tim was struggling with, but if he felt anything like I did, then I know it's bad. I wasn't sure if Tim had been experiencing the blood, but I remember coughing up blood, and despite it going away eventually, it seemed to have something to do with the situation at hand. Or at least that's what I put together in my head so far. I remained careful and didn't poke at Tim for anything, I didn't know if it was my fear of my guilt stopping me - or the fact that Tim might get upset with me.

I continued to receive rides home after work from Tim for the next few days, but instead of speaking, the rides were silent, filled with the hoarse coughing that Tim was burdened with. The sound made me uneasy it almost brought back the paranoia I felt months ago, and every single time I was with Tim, it felt like there were eyes boring into the back of my head. I wanted to bring it up to him to talk about it, to tell him everything that had happened in the woods with Jay, but now with the immense guilt I felt in my gut it was even harder to bring it up than it would have been before.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when the tires to Tim's car whined to a stop in front of my apartment, my body lurched forward just a little bit, caught by the seat belt that held me back as Tim pressed the brakes a bit harder than usual. He'd been off, especially during this specific ride. His eyes were glazed over, and his voice was quiet every single time he spoke to me, almost like he didn't want to speak to me. "Thank you, Tim - my day off is tomorrow if you wanted to come over at all..." My voice trailed off, I was expecting him to say no, like he had been recently. He turned his face away for a moment, glaring out the window as if in thought before he just gave me a nod, letting his brown eyes look into mine. "Yeah, I'll be over tomorrow." I could only smile softly at him, reaching over to place a gentle hand on his shoulder, watching him force a small smile back in my direction. "You can stop by whenever you want to. I was hoping we could talk a bit." He hummed at this and bounced his head into another nodding motion, "want me to bring anything?" I shook my head and pulled my hand away from making contact with him. "No, you don't have to, unless you want to."

I woke up pretty late the next morning closer to noon than I would have liked, I guess I just didn't realize how exhausted I had been the past few days. I groaned and stretched whatever aching muscles I could before eventually getting up out of bed. Since Tim was coming over, I fixed my sheets and my pillows to look presentable before groggily slumping my way into the bathroom and into the shower after stripping myself of my clothes. Quite a few hours after my shower and a few chores around seven, there was a knock at my door then it slowly opened ajar, Tim's voice calling out to me, "I'm here, Y/N.." I told him previously that it was okay if he were to just wander in if we had made plans, and he didn't really need to knock, but Tim is incredibly polite and respectable. He always gave a small knock before opening the door and alerting me of his arrival. "You can come in, Tim." The door then gently swung open all the way, and in lumbered Tim, his eyes look tired, and the bags under them seem darker than they did before. Despite his tired appearance, though, he smiled at me, and I couldn't help but offer him a smile back. "Look what I brought." he revealed from behind the door in his hand his ukulele. He leaned back against the door to shut it as he angled his ukulele against his chest to strum a few chords. "Oh. Are you going to play me a tune?" I questioned playfully, setting aside whatever I had been doing at the counter to follow Tim into the living room. We made ourselves comfortable on the only couch there was, on opposite ends, and I listened as Tim plucked a few more strings. "Maybe. Maybe we could start a band or something, get rich, and move away to LA." He seemed to be in a better mood today, which brightened up my own mood. "Wouldn't that be lovely? A band of two, we can be called... Like, the Static Smugglers or something." I chuckled playfully, but something about what I said seemed to throw Tim off a bit, and he looked away. "Sure, or maybe something more like... The Strumming Chords." I cocked my head to the side, as if considering heavily. "We'd better pay someone to think of a name for us." He gave a small laugh before urgently setting aside his instrument to cough into his arm rather violently. I sat forward, "Hey, do you need some water or something?" He only shook his head at me using a hand to wave my offer off. I felt my brows furrow in concern, but I didn't know what else to say. I stayed quiet and let him take his time getting himself back together before I looked away, taking a  deep breath to gather myself and my confidence to bring up the situation. "Can I talk to you? about something serious?" I turn my head to face him, letting my eyes meet his soft brown ones. "Yeah... You can talk to me.."