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One problem with that. [Finger up in the air to punctuate his point.] I'd never work as hard as you do on me for any chick.
And if that's not a sign of true love, I don't know what is.
[... that's laughable, too. Or it would be if there wasn't a mess of emotion - is it emotion? - somewhere whenever John's involved. Petre doesn't fucking know, but he doesn't let himself think about it, either. What's there to think about? He's decided long ago it was just a game.]
[... that's laughable, too. Or it would be if there wasn't a mess of emotion - is it emotion? - somewhere whenever John's involved. Petre doesn't fucking know, but he doesn't let himself think about it, either. What's there to think about? He's decided long ago it was just a game.]
[It's clear from the sound of it that he's fighting the laughter that bubbles up, but he just can't help it. I need you. I've never needed anyone. He hears it again and again, cycling through his head, and his laughter becomes closer to hysterical.
True love. Jesus. This is almost fucked enough that he could believe it. And he has no idea what's true and what isn't, so it's not even a joke anymore, but he keeps on laughing.]
True love. Jesus. This is almost fucked enough that he could believe it. And he has no idea what's true and what isn't, so it's not even a joke anymore, but he keeps on laughing.]
[Petre only thinks he knows why John's laughing. Hell, he can even laugh along with it, as quiet as he is on the other side of the room.
Just a joke. It's all a joke.]
Anyway. I fucking stink. You don't mind if I call dibs on the shower for the next three hours, do you?
Just a joke. It's all a joke.]
Anyway. I fucking stink. You don't mind if I call dibs on the shower for the next three hours, do you?
[He takes a deep breath, stills the laughter before it goes over the edge into - screaming, he doesn't even know. Some release of all this new, awful tension.]
Oh good, I can get in some sleep. Make it four.
Oh good, I can get in some sleep. Make it four.
[John's not even done talking before he's already stripping off his jacket, slipping it off his wrists before he brings a hand up to mess up his otherwise impeccable head. At least he thought it was; apparently the guy from last night already did a number on the back. Who cares.
He takes off his watch, then the phone from his pants pocket. Removes his shirt and undoes his trousers.]
He takes off his watch, then the phone from his pants pocket. Removes his shirt and undoes his trousers.]
[John has his eyes closed, but as soon as he figures out what's going on, they fly open.]
The bathroom's big enough to get naked in there, y'know.
The bathroom's big enough to get naked in there, y'know.
I know.
[a murmur. He isn't looking at John; doesn't need to. As long as he isn't being ignored he continues until all that's left is his underwear. (There's a bruise on his shoulder.) He drops one shoe, then the other. Runs a hand through his hair and gets on his feet, finally stepping into the bathroom to let John have some peace.]
[a murmur. He isn't looking at John; doesn't need to. As long as he isn't being ignored he continues until all that's left is his underwear. (There's a bruise on his shoulder.) He drops one shoe, then the other. Runs a hand through his hair and gets on his feet, finally stepping into the bathroom to let John have some peace.]
[And damn him, he watches the whole thing, his throat dry. Only when it becomes clear that Petre isn't getting completely undressed does he quickly turn onto his side, facing the wall, and grab the balled up blanket to kick and stretch it over himself.
Naptime, damnit. He'd better make good on that three hour promise.
Except that when John closes his eyes again, he's right back in this room last night. He's got Petre holding his face with one hand, stroking his wrist with the other, and his soft lips are moving more gently than John could ever have imagined. The mere memory of a light flick of tongue is enough to make him shiver.
Jesus christ. He can't do this. No one could be expected to do this.]
Naptime, damnit. He'd better make good on that three hour promise.
Except that when John closes his eyes again, he's right back in this room last night. He's got Petre holding his face with one hand, stroking his wrist with the other, and his soft lips are moving more gently than John could ever have imagined. The mere memory of a light flick of tongue is enough to make him shiver.
Jesus christ. He can't do this. No one could be expected to do this.]
[If only he were a mind reader. He'd savor every single thought creeping into John's brain and draw it out, make sure he'd never forget it. Petre would think it was all imagination, of course, incapable of knowing what's a memory and what isn't, seeing as he's been challenged severely in that department. But imagination would be better than a memory, because imagination would imply some kind of volition. Want. Petre understands want. His power's all about it, and he's never, ever felt bad for wanting something.
(That he knows of. John challenged him in that department, too.)
He doesn't take the full three hours, but close. The school should reprimand him for it, wasting their resources to his bidding. But when should he start caring? Not too soon, unfortunately for them.
He comes out without a single piece of clothing save for the towel on his head. Didn't bring any with him inside, and he's barely got any left after John's little revenge on his closet. Petre, again, takes his time picking out today's outfit. Doesn't even bother with underwear until it's all properly decided. From then to buttoning up his shirt is a much shorter process.]
Nap time's over.
[He's in front of the mirror, making last arrangements to damp hair. There. Perfect.]
What do you wanna do today?
(That he knows of. John challenged him in that department, too.)
He doesn't take the full three hours, but close. The school should reprimand him for it, wasting their resources to his bidding. But when should he start caring? Not too soon, unfortunately for them.
He comes out without a single piece of clothing save for the towel on his head. Didn't bring any with him inside, and he's barely got any left after John's little revenge on his closet. Petre, again, takes his time picking out today's outfit. Doesn't even bother with underwear until it's all properly decided. From then to buttoning up his shirt is a much shorter process.]
Nap time's over.
[He's in front of the mirror, making last arrangements to damp hair. There. Perfect.]
What do you wanna do today?
[Thank god his closet has him facing away from John's bed, because he yawns and opens his eyes at the sound of hangers sliding against the crossbar, and ends up with a face full of bare ass.
But it could've been worse. It could've been worse.
After that, it's all feigning sleep until Petre speaks up, and then feigning that he's been woken up with another yawn and a long, deep stretch. His eyes are shuttered for a moment - okay, he's dressed - before opening completely.]
Sleep? Not shitting you here, I'm exhausted. [But that won't fly and he knows it, so he sits up and scrubs at his face with his hands.] Any reason you're making it sound like we're spending the day together? Did I make a date I don't remember?
But it could've been worse. It could've been worse.
After that, it's all feigning sleep until Petre speaks up, and then feigning that he's been woken up with another yawn and a long, deep stretch. His eyes are shuttered for a moment - okay, he's dressed - before opening completely.]
Sleep? Not shitting you here, I'm exhausted. [But that won't fly and he knows it, so he sits up and scrubs at his face with his hands.] Any reason you're making it sound like we're spending the day together? Did I make a date I don't remember?
Told you, you were gonna pay for costing me that lay. Now you get to spend the day with me.
[He likes the sound of a date. Only because it's John, and only because the thought would make him cringe. Petre doesn't do dates, anyway. (Except for Meadow.)]
I was thinking sunshine and flowers.
[Last time they had sunshine and flowers they burned the yard down.]
Besides, you're not gonna tell me you're not used to winging the night and going crazy through the day, are you? Street rat.
[He likes the sound of a date. Only because it's John, and only because the thought would make him cringe. Petre doesn't do dates, anyway. (Except for Meadow.)]
I was thinking sunshine and flowers.
[Last time they had sunshine and flowers they burned the yard down.]
Besides, you're not gonna tell me you're not used to winging the night and going crazy through the day, are you? Street rat.
You can stop calling me that any time. [Even Johnny's better, god.
He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, still rubbing at his face.]
And I've been here two years. I'm used to at least a couple hours sleep a night now. Just - [Alright. He'll play along, for today, if only to keep Petre distracted from thoughts of what happened the night before. He can't come to the realization himself or decide to coax it out of John.] - just let me have my shower, which will now probably be ice cold.
He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, still rubbing at his face.]
And I've been here two years. I'm used to at least a couple hours sleep a night now. Just - [Alright. He'll play along, for today, if only to keep Petre distracted from thoughts of what happened the night before. He can't come to the realization himself or decide to coax it out of John.] - just let me have my shower, which will now probably be ice cold.
[He's not even gonna go into how often he heard that term on the street, how much it was not his creation. Not going to deal with Petre picking the wrong bed. He's just gonna head for the bathroom and try to block every single bit of this out for as long as he can before their magical day together starts.
And he told Ryan he was going crazy before.]
And he told Ryan he was going crazy before.]
[Someone, something, give him strength.]
Not showering fully clothed. But you just get to dream about it.
[Then the water does go on - his shower's fast enough to suggest that it was, indeed, lacking in hot water, and he comes out in his t-shirt and boxers this time. No more playing around with the tension now that it's at least begun to flow, or trickle, in the other direction. His hair's styled as well, slicked back off his face as usual, and his own outfit selection takes considerably less time.
White v-neck t-shirt. Brown zip-up hoodie. His usual baggy (although not low-slung) jeans and - just Vans, not his boots. Done. No dressing fancy for this date.]
Sunshine and flowers. [He turns to look at Petre, hands in his hoodie pockets - he's already deposited his lighter there, as useless as it'll be with Petre, because it never moves far from his side.] Do we get unicorns, too?
Not showering fully clothed. But you just get to dream about it.
[Then the water does go on - his shower's fast enough to suggest that it was, indeed, lacking in hot water, and he comes out in his t-shirt and boxers this time. No more playing around with the tension now that it's at least begun to flow, or trickle, in the other direction. His hair's styled as well, slicked back off his face as usual, and his own outfit selection takes considerably less time.
White v-neck t-shirt. Brown zip-up hoodie. His usual baggy (although not low-slung) jeans and - just Vans, not his boots. Done. No dressing fancy for this date.]
Sunshine and flowers. [He turns to look at Petre, hands in his hoodie pockets - he's already deposited his lighter there, as useless as it'll be with Petre, because it never moves far from his side.] Do we get unicorns, too?
[He pauses at that gesture, but walks through, eyes on Petre the whole way. Everything is suspicious. Everything. Once he's through, he turns back to face him again.]
Really don't wanna know, but I have to ask. Why?
Really don't wanna know, but I have to ask. Why?
[I've never needed anyone. I need you.
Jesus, he has to stop thinking about that, it wasn't real.]
First time I've ever wished to be normal. Thanks for that. [It's all so hollow now, the sharp banter. He wonders if Petre can hear the subtle shift.] But if I have to be some rare mythical creature, can I at least be a dragon or something?
Jesus, he has to stop thinking about that, it wasn't real.]
First time I've ever wished to be normal. Thanks for that. [It's all so hollow now, the sharp banter. He wonders if Petre can hear the subtle shift.] But if I have to be some rare mythical creature, can I at least be a dragon or something?
Oh, fuck you. [He gives Petre a shove, but not a really hard one; last thing he needs is the guy falling over and spraining a wrist when they're at stalemate as far as punishments go.] You only think pyrokinesis is lame because it can't touch you. I can wreck pretty much anything and anyone else out there, it's good enough for me.
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