It's that... feedback loop. White noise enveloping coherence and wearing it down until it's just that old and knowing voice trying to get Tim to admit what he knows: he's disappointed. Not that he is disappointed. He has disappointed. His eyes widen at the realization, imagined or otherwise, and he can't pinpoint a moment where he's felt so alive before. He's not sure if it's all that great. --stop. "Sorry. I."

He forces himself to swallow, he doesn't know what to do.

Jeff... is really trying, isn't he? And Tim laughs, a forced and tiny and not at all convincing laugh but it was necessary all the same. His breath hitches-- what, why is his breath hitching?

He's not sure if he ever imagined his first time being with Steph.

He takes initiative, starts to move to untangle himself, untangle them, get them away from anything compromising or implicating or dangerous. His fingers brush against the knuckles of Jeff's hand, his heart leaps at the small connection, and he needs to come clean and "I don't know..." he pauses, searches for his perfect excuse and can't find it. "I don't... know what happened." But he does, and he's disappointed, and there's white noise and mortification where common sense should be. "I've. Never. Uh. Thanks. For stopping."

Above it all, it's there: relief.