[He actually sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the bed at that, mouth falling open in indignation.]
I was not panicking or flirting, alright -
[Pointless. Fuck. That's two people who see right through him now, although Ryan is really just stating the obvious. Defeated, he collapses back onto the bed.]
...alright. I'll keep you close as I can to it, then.
[That's when he finally pushes himself up and off the bed, stretching out with a long sigh.]
But I should probably go before she comes and kicks me out. Figure you want to get back to some peace and quiet anyway, yeah?
[He doesn't leave immediately, though, lingering for a moment after he speaks- and reaches down to snag one of John's hands in a loose, casual grip. Just for a moment, and then he lets it go.]
[He sits up, hand held out oddly in front of him. Like he doesn't understand what just happened. The truth is that he hasn't understood anything in awhile now, and that's just the most recent event that's confused him.
But Ryan helped him out, helped clear his head a lot again, and all while obviously dealing with his own issues around John and Petre. They've got this strange, intense thing going on, and while he knows and likes both of them, he's locked out of it. John's not exactly long on empathy, but it's a fucked up place to be, and he remembers Ryan's rant about how no one could possibly have been interested in him.
It just feels like something needs to be said. Not John's greatest skill in these kinds of situations.]
[Ryan waits, head slightly tilted; he's not entirely sure what else John has to say, whether it's just 'goodnight' or something else, and when he hears it-
He's still not sure what to think. Coming from John, it's- nicer than the same words would be from anyone else, actually. Some people deal in platitudes, but he isn't one of them, wouldn't say it just because. It makes his chest tighten-- throat too, he realizes belatedly-- as he bites his lip, just as uncertain of what to say in return. There are things wrong with him, it's just... well, shitty, honestly, to throw that back at someone, and anything else he'd like to say or do to respond just wouldn't be right. It's appreciated, it really is, but he has no idea how to handle those exact words right now.
And in the end, he doesn't say anything about it. Just takes it for what it is, tries not to turn around too fast and make it obvious he's hiding his face before John mistakes getting a little emotional for getting upset.]
[He did that wrong. Not really a surprise. He's largely in uncharted waters with Ryan, being friends and sharing feelings and thoughts he's always believed were meant to be kept to himself.]
'Night. [His physical voice basically shuts the door. He knows this conversation is over. Curling his legs up enough to grab the top of the blanket, he stretches out beneath it and lies back down.
This'll have to be explained to Petre eventually, too. But honestly? Fuck Petre.]
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I was not panicking or flirting, alright -
[Pointless. Fuck. That's two people who see right through him now, although Ryan is really just stating the obvious. Defeated, he collapses back onto the bed.]
Why him. Of all people.
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[Ryan stays where he is even when John sits up- this time the answer's more genuine than the previous times he's given it.]
Because he was there, I guess. Managed to push just the right buttons.
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What he does, in other words. Fuck, Ryan, he can never know this. This is what he's wanted all along.
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[He has literally every reason not to, after all.]
Just- whatever happens with him, don't let him take all your time, okay? And don't take that the wrong way.
[That's added quickly, before he continues.]
...you're kind of the only person I really hang out with. I mean, you probably know that, but.
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[- oh. Oh shit. He can't believe Ryan just said that. It's embarrassing as hell and kind of sweet in a way he doesn't want to admit.]
- dude. [He laughs shakily.] You're basically my one link to sanity right now. I'm not going anywhere.
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[He meets that shaky laugh with a crooked little grin.]
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You know I'm never making it all the way to sane as well as I do. Closer's good enough for me right now.
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[That's when he finally pushes himself up and off the bed, stretching out with a long sigh.]
But I should probably go before she comes and kicks me out. Figure you want to get back to some peace and quiet anyway, yeah?
[He doesn't leave immediately, though, lingering for a moment after he speaks- and reaches down to snag one of John's hands in a loose, casual grip. Just for a moment, and then he lets it go.]
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[He sits up, hand held out oddly in front of him. Like he doesn't understand what just happened. The truth is that he hasn't understood anything in awhile now, and that's just the most recent event that's confused him.
But Ryan helped him out, helped clear his head a lot again, and all while obviously dealing with his own issues around John and Petre. They've got this strange, intense thing going on, and while he knows and likes both of them, he's locked out of it. John's not exactly long on empathy, but it's a fucked up place to be, and he remembers Ryan's rant about how no one could possibly have been interested in him.
It just feels like something needs to be said. Not John's greatest skill in these kinds of situations.]
There's nothing wrong with you.
[See?]
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He's still not sure what to think. Coming from John, it's- nicer than the same words would be from anyone else, actually. Some people deal in platitudes, but he isn't one of them, wouldn't say it just because. It makes his chest tighten-- throat too, he realizes belatedly-- as he bites his lip, just as uncertain of what to say in return. There are things wrong with him, it's just... well, shitty, honestly, to throw that back at someone, and anything else he'd like to say or do to respond just wouldn't be right. It's appreciated, it really is, but he has no idea how to handle those exact words right now.
And in the end, he doesn't say anything about it. Just takes it for what it is, tries not to turn around too fast and make it obvious he's hiding his face before John mistakes getting a little emotional for getting upset.]
--'night, John.
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'Night. [His physical voice basically shuts the door. He knows this conversation is over. Curling his legs up enough to grab the top of the blanket, he stretches out beneath it and lies back down.
This'll have to be explained to Petre eventually, too. But honestly? Fuck Petre.]