TJ hadn't gone far, standing against the wall of the house, practically under their bedroom window. He just needed air and a cigarette -- the cigarette more than air, but he remembered how anal these people were about smoking inside and Doug hadn't wanted it in Pittsburgh, so...
"Can't make things worse if I'm alone," he muttered, turning when Travis spoke. He was at a total loss for what to do. Part of him was ready to throw in the towel all together. This wasn't something he could do. He wasn't the fixer in the family. He was the screw-up and if Doug really meant all the things he'd said about TJ in there... Being the better, more mature TJ sucked when he could barely deal with his own emotions, let alone help Doug with his. All the freshly healing wounds, the good feeling he'd had talking things out with his mother, everything inside him felt like he'd been lanced open to bleed again by Doug's words.
And he couldn't say anything to Doug to really defend himself because Doug wouldn't believe him, would only think it was more selfishness on TJ's part. There was no way TJ could win that argument and the more he tried, the more his brother hated him.
Holding the cigarette so it wouldn't burn a hole in Travis' jacket, he went willingly into his lover's arms and buried his face against Travis' neck. "I don't know what do," he whispered. "I don't know what I'm doing and I'm just making it worse, hurting him more."