[Jay chokes down another mouthful of cake and tries to think back. Tries to give Tim something coherent. Some kind of narrative he can follow, because it's not like he can just cut all those brief, choppy impressions together and play them back for him.]
[His hands itch for the camera. Worse, they itch for something much older, the stack of unlabeled tapes he just knows are lying untouched in the back of some closet, gathering dust. Home movies, circa '85 onwards, formats shifting every few years until they just...stop.]
[He assumes they stopped. He's got no reason to, though.]
It was always...a lot. Like, a lot of people. No matter what I said, they'd always just...my mom and dad, they'd invite the whole class. And it's not like I really knew any of 'em, either, so I'd just...
[Jay dips his head, shoulders hiked.]
...watch.
And there'd be cake and pizza and all that, which was probably the best part of it. And the other kids'd bring presents, which is...honestly kinda weird, now that I think about it. Like it was the admission fee to my living room or whatever. So there'd be these presents--which was kinda exciting for a little kid, y'know--but it wasn't ever really anything I was into, and my little sister'd take 'em all anyway, so I'm not sure why I even--
[He freezes.]
[Little sister. He knew he didn't grow up in that house alone, he knew it, and now he's got a--]
[--not a name. Not even a goddamn face, just a blurry silhouette, gangly as he is, because his memories couldn't account for the absence.]
[There's a pressure against his leg, and he tenses, plastic fork skittering across the plate. It's okay. It's fine. It's just Archie, staring up at him expectantly. Still not quite breathing, the tension not quite unwound, Jay reaches down to scratch the cat behind the ears, along the curve of his jaw.]
no subject
Yeah.
[Jay chokes down another mouthful of cake and tries to think back. Tries to give Tim something coherent. Some kind of narrative he can follow, because it's not like he can just cut all those brief, choppy impressions together and play them back for him.]
[His hands itch for the camera. Worse, they itch for something much older, the stack of unlabeled tapes he just knows are lying untouched in the back of some closet, gathering dust. Home movies, circa '85 onwards, formats shifting every few years until they just...stop.]
[He assumes they stopped. He's got no reason to, though.]
It was always...a lot. Like, a lot of people. No matter what I said, they'd always just...my mom and dad, they'd invite the whole class. And it's not like I really knew any of 'em, either, so I'd just...
[Jay dips his head, shoulders hiked.]
...watch.
And there'd be cake and pizza and all that, which was probably the best part of it. And the other kids'd bring presents, which is...honestly kinda weird, now that I think about it. Like it was the admission fee to my living room or whatever. So there'd be these presents--which was kinda exciting for a little kid, y'know--but it wasn't ever really anything I was into, and my little sister'd take 'em all anyway, so I'm not sure why I even--
[He freezes.]
[Little sister. He knew he didn't grow up in that house alone, he knew it, and now he's got a--]
[--not a name. Not even a goddamn face, just a blurry silhouette, gangly as he is, because his memories couldn't account for the absence.]
[There's a pressure against his leg, and he tenses, plastic fork skittering across the plate. It's okay. It's fine. It's just Archie, staring up at him expectantly. Still not quite breathing, the tension not quite unwound, Jay reaches down to scratch the cat behind the ears, along the curve of his jaw.]