And you, Petre, let one second of jealousy over a joke blind you to the idea that maybe I fooled around with another guy to see if it was even what I wanted. Because of you. And that one extra shot of tequila that made you forget it ever happened.
[He's moving in closer again, chin tilted up, ready to claim his complete victory.]
You made it completely obvious at last that you were just a tin pot megalomaniac and I was supposed to be your one-man dictatorship. You made sure that I would never, ever, for a second, consider wanting you again.
Yeah, you didn't have all the facts. But you were still a total fucking idiot.
[Tension grows in Petre's features, and all of them because of John. His words sink in like the fire he can't use to burn him.
For a second, Petre's hand shoots to grab John. Look him in the eye. He's showing teeth like he's ready to speak again, and this time make sure that John regrets this. Regrets fucking with him again, because that will never be tolerated from him, or anyone. Maybe once upon a time Petre might have shared a truth about him he himself wasn't entirely aware of, but it's all gone now. It's all just anger.
He knows anger. Anger's one of the few he can feel, full-fledged and consuming.
No words come out. He shoves John instead, lets him have that so desired distance between them.]
Anything I ever told you. [There's an unpleasant curl to his lips.] I was drunk. And you're a fucking idiot for believing me.
You mean I was. You think I don't know that? [He straightens out his shirt where Petre grabbed him, his own expression nothing but mild distaste.] If I didn't know that by now, I never would've told you all this.
But it's got no power for you anymore. You can't win with any of this. Like I said, we both lose - but maybe dragging me down with you is enough now. Maybe that'll be your new angle, we both fucked up beyond all recognition, we really are made for one another. Anything that might work, right?
[If he's listened to a single thing John said just now, it doesn't show. As always, Petre would just be wrapped up in his own head. Paying mind to what he believes to be the truth.]
I need you. That's all it took. [a pause. He bites his lower lip, not a smile.] Really? That's all it took for you to let your guard down and kiss me.
That just makes you a little more pathetic than I thought, John. You're like a lost little child. You just want to be loved. Validated. And you decided to take that from the person you hate the most in the world when I was drunk and would've said anything.
Bit too easy, even for you, don't you think?
[All edges, all resentment, because John's latched onto his vulnerability and twisted it around. He won't be expected to let him leave with the last word.]
[For a long time, it looks like he might grab one of the sharper gardening tools and ram it right up under Petre's ribs. He's that furious, murder etched across his features; anyone else would be a singed carcass by now, and damn the consequences. But that silence is spinning out between them, giving Petre more and more power the longer it lasts, and he can't find a counter argument. No I'm not won't be enough for him, even though it's true - he's got someone who could very easily love him and arm's length is not enough emotional distance for him by a mile. He's more scared of love than of being alone.
That's the thing. A denial will reveal another vulnerability. He set his own trap by admitting how little it took to draw him in, and now he's snared. Didn't he think to himself once that he'd eventually chew off his own foot? The time appears to have come, but he's not ready.]
Don't flatter yourself. There are so many people in the world I hate more than you. [That's the best he can do, after all that glaring. It makes him cringe inside.] And if you really think I gave you a chance because I was looking for love, you really don't know shit about me. Not a goddamn thing.
Then what is it you're looking for, John, [He sneers, shows him teeth, approaching with a threat. Intimidating, standing his ground. John can do whatever he wants to him, but he won't walk away thinking he left him bruised anywhere inside.] Do tell the world. We're dying to find out if you're finally figured it out.
I wasn't looking for anything. [He's finally, finally grasped onto the one thing from that night that can't be thrown back in his face. The insult that's just as brutal to Petre as it is to him, but it's got no context to be used against him here. And every context against Petre.]
I let my guard down because I pitied you. [He loads and delivers that word the same way he'd spit in Petre's face.]
[And just like Petre told him that night - the very thought makes him sick.
So sick it's his turn to swing a fist across John's face. There isn't much strength backing his arm, but the impact's enough to leave a red mark somewhere between John's jaw and his cheekbone.
There's nothing less than disgust in Petre's face when he suddenly recollects himself and arranges his hair, looking to the sides. That was a breakdown in its purest form, and the thought that anyone might have seen it --
Doesn't matter.]
Wish not granted. Sorry.
[He isn't taking away the order, and instead adding another one.]
[The hit startles him enough that he stumbles back a couple of steps, holds a hand up to his face - but then he's smiling more broadly than ever. Because that just hit a nerve goldmine, and Petre's never made it so obvious before. They're finally on the same level in a way that he can recognise and appreciate rather than resenting. All that perfect control shredded to ribbons until Petre couldn't do anything but lash out like John would.
It's almost childish glee on his face, like he just tricked Petre with a joy buzzer or a whoopie cushion rather than a deep emotional wound. Gotcha.
But then his mind is pleasantly blank again, and rather than gloating, he's just getting up to leave. It'll be rather interesting when they meet back up in their room, if they do - John has used Ryan's fake suspicions of stress exhaustion to sneak into the infirmary for the night more than once, and even gotten a legitimate diagnosis because of the strain this war has taken on him.
Where will it go now? He doesn't know, but that's one battle he knows he won.]
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[He's moving in closer again, chin tilted up, ready to claim his complete victory.]
You made it completely obvious at last that you were just a tin pot megalomaniac and I was supposed to be your one-man dictatorship. You made sure that I would never, ever, for a second, consider wanting you again.
Yeah, you didn't have all the facts. But you were still a total fucking idiot.
no subject
For a second, Petre's hand shoots to grab John. Look him in the eye. He's showing teeth like he's ready to speak again, and this time make sure that John regrets this. Regrets fucking with him again, because that will never be tolerated from him, or anyone. Maybe once upon a time Petre might have shared a truth about him he himself wasn't entirely aware of, but it's all gone now. It's all just anger.
He knows anger. Anger's one of the few he can feel, full-fledged and consuming.
No words come out. He shoves John instead, lets him have that so desired distance between them.]
Anything I ever told you. [There's an unpleasant curl to his lips.] I was drunk. And you're a fucking idiot for believing me.
no subject
But it's got no power for you anymore. You can't win with any of this. Like I said, we both lose - but maybe dragging me down with you is enough now. Maybe that'll be your new angle, we both fucked up beyond all recognition, we really are made for one another. Anything that might work, right?
no subject
I need you. That's all it took. [a pause. He bites his lower lip, not a smile.] Really? That's all it took for you to let your guard down and kiss me.
That just makes you a little more pathetic than I thought, John. You're like a lost little child. You just want to be loved. Validated. And you decided to take that from the person you hate the most in the world when I was drunk and would've said anything.
Bit too easy, even for you, don't you think?
[All edges, all resentment, because John's latched onto his vulnerability and twisted it around. He won't be expected to let him leave with the last word.]
no subject
That's the thing. A denial will reveal another vulnerability. He set his own trap by admitting how little it took to draw him in, and now he's snared. Didn't he think to himself once that he'd eventually chew off his own foot? The time appears to have come, but he's not ready.]
Don't flatter yourself. There are so many people in the world I hate more than you. [That's the best he can do, after all that glaring. It makes him cringe inside.] And if you really think I gave you a chance because I was looking for love, you really don't know shit about me. Not a goddamn thing.
no subject
no subject
I let my guard down because I pitied you. [He loads and delivers that word the same way he'd spit in Petre's face.]
no subject
So sick it's his turn to swing a fist across John's face. There isn't much strength backing his arm, but the impact's enough to leave a red mark somewhere between John's jaw and his cheekbone.
There's nothing less than disgust in Petre's face when he suddenly recollects himself and arranges his hair, looking to the sides. That was a breakdown in its purest form, and the thought that anyone might have seen it --
Doesn't matter.]
Wish not granted. Sorry.
[He isn't taking away the order, and instead adding another one.]
Now get out of my fucking sight.
no subject
It's almost childish glee on his face, like he just tricked Petre with a joy buzzer or a whoopie cushion rather than a deep emotional wound. Gotcha.
But then his mind is pleasantly blank again, and rather than gloating, he's just getting up to leave. It'll be rather interesting when they meet back up in their room, if they do - John has used Ryan's fake suspicions of stress exhaustion to sneak into the infirmary for the night more than once, and even gotten a legitimate diagnosis because of the strain this war has taken on him.
Where will it go now? He doesn't know, but that's one battle he knows he won.]