INT: JASON'S BEDROOM
Jason is lying on his bed, staring dully at the ceiling. Jax has barged in and is pacing the room as he furiously addresses Jason's prone figure.
So Harrison killed himself last night, huh? Hey, look at me when I'm talking to you. My Harrison. He's dead. I know that friends of the deceased aren't supposed to talk about how much they're grieving to the family. I'm supposed to listen to you talk about how sad you are that your brother is dead.
Whatever. I was there for Harrison more than any of you. I was his real family, Jay, not you. I was his best friend. I'm the one he came to when your parents threatened to send him to camp, or the army, like that was going to help. You never said anything to stop it and you should have.
(Sits down, head in hands.)
I keep thinking about last night and what I said to him, you know, before. Like, if it affected him somehow. I said he couldn't come over this week, because your dad called my dad and there was a lot of yelling. I told Harrison we had to spend some time apart so that people didn't assume… Do you think that pushed him over? Like, that I was worried about what other people thought? Because I wasn't, not really, I just… I keep imagining him listening to me with the phone against his shoulder, using both hands to tie the knots. He has a pianist's hands, you know? Had. I keep thinking, though, maybe if I'd asked him to come over anyway, he might have put it down. He might have walked away. I don't know.
God, can't you just say something already? Anything. Just say anything at all.