Bones had thought that Jim understood. He'd told him that first night that he wasn't just another of the people he fucked, who didn't matter after. Jim had agreed, but apparently he hadn't been clear enough. Jim seemed to think that it was perfectly fine to sleep around, because he was still sleeping with him. Goddamnit! He stepped away from the computer and hit the wall hard, wincing in pain and going back to read the rest of the message.
He'd thought it couldn't get worse, but clearly he was underestimating Jim. His friend...or lover...or whatever Jim was...seemed to think that the revelation that he was cheating on him was best followed by telling him how he died. It stabbed Bones somewhere in the gut, the knowledge that he wouldn't be able to fix Jim, just like he hadn't been able to fix his father, or Joanna. He'd fucked up again, somehow, and Jim had died. Part of him hoped he'd been dead long before that. The idea of outliving Jim wasn't really one he wanted to consider.
He walked over to the bottle of bourbon he kept on his shelf, leaving the computer on in case Jim needed to discuss his death more...and he would talk to him about it even though it hurt if Jim needed it, and poured himself a glass. He knocked it back in one go, then threw the glass at the wall. He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees and dropping his head to his hands.
He heard Uhura speak and gave a low, bitter laugh, shaking his head even as he didn't look up. "All right doesn't really describe it, Nyota."