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[A battlefield, and not the love kind. Depending on which of them you ask. Pick your poison in the header, be it one or both of them, and don't be surprised if you're greeted by a literal burst of fire when the door opens.]
[he wakes up, amazingly enough, without a headache. Just an incredible thirst and new clarity in his head, like his brain restarted after a night of drunken haze. But it's not even a haze, it's a total blank after being in a bathroom with a stranger who ran off because he got cold feet. Then somehow he made it back to the institute and back to his own bed. Didn't bother with his clothes, all wrinkled and a mess, but that's all right.
He licks his lips, tries to get some off that unpleasant taste from his mouth.]
Morning, sunshine.
[but he turns his head an doesn't find John there. Huh. Slowly he drags himself from his bed, makes his way to the book on the other boy's nightstand. He picks it up and laughs in a quiet exhale. That's what they're making him read, like it'll ever work.]
He licks his lips, tries to get some off that unpleasant taste from his mouth.]
Morning, sunshine.
[but he turns his head an doesn't find John there. Huh. Slowly he drags himself from his bed, makes his way to the book on the other boy's nightstand. He picks it up and laughs in a quiet exhale. That's what they're making him read, like it'll ever work.]
{The door cracks open, just the tiniest bit, John's head peeking through warily. He'd hoped to sneak in while Petre was still sleeping, but he's awake and obnoxiously bright-eyed. John looks (and probably feels) more hung over than him after his long, long, sleepless night.
He shuffles in, blanket dragging behind him, and says nothing. Makes no eye contact. His heart's racing already, because this room has now become complete unknown territory and Petre a complete unknown variable. Anything could happen now, and he's not ready for any of it.]
He shuffles in, blanket dragging behind him, and says nothing. Makes no eye contact. His heart's racing already, because this room has now become complete unknown territory and Petre a complete unknown variable. Anything could happen now, and he's not ready for any of it.]
[That's - not one of the million variables he accounted for. Ignoring it?]
Are you fucking kidding me?
Are you fucking kidding me?
[No. No no no no no. Even if Petre wanted to deny all of the things he said, he'd never let something like the kisses they shared go unspoken. There would be some kind of spin, some way to acknowledge what he wanted to keep and discard the rest. Hell, if it was a new game like John suspects it was, Petre's victory was utterly complete. No reason to deny any of it.
He was that drunk. He doesn't even remember.
John will never fucking know.
He throws his blanket down on the bed rather than spreading it again, tosses his pillow into the corner with just as much vehemence. Eventually he'll need to come up with something Petre did to piss him off this much, but it's a laundry list of possibilities, isn't it? That'll come much easier than trying to tell him the truth.]
Look. I got no sleep last night. The kid with the remote eyes was up again. There's a whole lot I don't wanna do today, and dealing with you is at the top of my list. Just go about whatever or whoever you're fucking with today.
[He's seething. Not because he was lied to, not because it was real, but because he'll never have any damn idea. Petre wouldn't know if asked. This accidental victory is Petre's biggest yet.]
He was that drunk. He doesn't even remember.
John will never fucking know.
He throws his blanket down on the bed rather than spreading it again, tosses his pillow into the corner with just as much vehemence. Eventually he'll need to come up with something Petre did to piss him off this much, but it's a laundry list of possibilities, isn't it? That'll come much easier than trying to tell him the truth.]
Look. I got no sleep last night. The kid with the remote eyes was up again. There's a whole lot I don't wanna do today, and dealing with you is at the top of my list. Just go about whatever or whoever you're fucking with today.
[He's seething. Not because he was lied to, not because it was real, but because he'll never have any damn idea. Petre wouldn't know if asked. This accidental victory is Petre's biggest yet.]
Edited (freudian slip?) 2014-09-19 16:50 (UTC)
[oh, if only he knew. His grin would be wider yet, he'd be laughing and pressing on until John socked him in the eye or burned something again. Yes, it'd feel like a victory, and even the parts where he submitted to John would be entirely ignored in favor of proclaiming he'd finally gotten what he wanted.
Alas, he has no idea.]
Well, no one forced you to leave the room. Unless I did. But why would I do that? I'm sure drunk-me loves your company too, Johnny.
[he snaps his fingers and points back at him.]
Oh, right - I met this guy at the bar. Jon with no 'h'.
Alas, he has no idea.]
Well, no one forced you to leave the room. Unless I did. But why would I do that? I'm sure drunk-me loves your company too, Johnny.
[he snaps his fingers and points back at him.]
Oh, right - I met this guy at the bar. Jon with no 'h'.
[He rolls his eyes at the first statement, but the second gives him pause. How much does he let on? If he gives Petre some of the story, the rest might come back to him, and in his current mood it's quite plain how much of what happened was down to alcohol. There's nothing at all of the vulnerability he showed the night before, the willingness to be open.
It's a relief and a frustration. He'd have no idea how to deal with that Petre, if he's honest with himself. But his eyes dance over Petre's hands, his mouth, feeling all those light but intense points of contact, and he still feels a loss.]
Not exactly a rare name, man. Throw a rock down a crowded street and you're gonna hit like five Johns.
It's a relief and a frustration. He'd have no idea how to deal with that Petre, if he's honest with himself. But his eyes dance over Petre's hands, his mouth, feeling all those light but intense points of contact, and he still feels a loss.]
Not exactly a rare name, man. Throw a rock down a crowded street and you're gonna hit like five Johns.
Sure, but I still thought it was funny. The guy was rock hard when he asked me about my eye and I told him I was seventeen. Ran off. Cold feet, can you believe it? In the bathroom.
[He widens his eyes, rolls them and shakes his head. Men these days.
And yes, he still thinks John totally wants to hear these stories. Either that or he just loves the sound of his own voice.]
Your punch cost me a lay, Johnny. You're gonna have to pay for that.
[He widens his eyes, rolls them and shakes his head. Men these days.
And yes, he still thinks John totally wants to hear these stories. Either that or he just loves the sound of his own voice.]
Your punch cost me a lay, Johnny. You're gonna have to pay for that.
[Echoes of last night's speech run through his head, the strange rant about how horrible it would've been to be capable of feeling anything for him, and John just falls onto his bed. He kicks the balled-up blanket aside and tucks the pillow under his head, eyes closed. Images layering over images in his head, the metaphor of negatives again, every different Petre visible under the other but none of them clear.]
You're the one who was stupid enough to be honest. But whatever, more extra homework I won't do, really fucking scared.
You're the one who was stupid enough to be honest. But whatever, more extra homework I won't do, really fucking scared.
Does it ever.
[And he can't use it. Anything he tries to pull out against Petre will lead right back to him. Every single event and word of that night is entwined.]
Breaking curfew to do it, in case you forgot. Do anything to get me in detention and we're gonna be right back in there together again.
[And he can't use it. Anything he tries to pull out against Petre will lead right back to him. Every single event and word of that night is entwined.]
Breaking curfew to do it, in case you forgot. Do anything to get me in detention and we're gonna be right back in there together again.
D'you ever have to do anything? [Rubbing at his temples. His head is pounding from the strain of keeping this up and the lack of sleep. He hasn't even gotten a coffee yet, since he was trying to sneak in before Petre woke up.] It's how we work. You tried to make a move against me, I had a counter-move. You're the one who likes it that way.
Against you or on you?
[he crosses his arms, curls the corners of his lips, almost knowingly. Only in the sense that he knows himself well enough to guess he did try something. Two boys alone in a bedroom, one of them completely drunk and prone to being more physical than the other will ever be comfortable with. Of course something happened.]
But then my face doesn't hurt, so I didn't even do anything that'd earn me another punch. The mystery's killing me.
[he crosses his arms, curls the corners of his lips, almost knowingly. Only in the sense that he knows himself well enough to guess he did try something. Two boys alone in a bedroom, one of them completely drunk and prone to being more physical than the other will ever be comfortable with. Of course something happened.]
But then my face doesn't hurt, so I didn't even do anything that'd earn me another punch. The mystery's killing me.
[Shit. If he gets too curious, he could pull the truth right out of John. He won't meet his physical desires that way, but he'll still use it for little details like that.
Okay. Spin it. Slowly, wearily, he opens his eyes, one arm thrown over his forehead now.]
Yeah. Of course you made a move on me. And of course I left. That shit's so standard by now that I don't see why I have to tell you.
Okay. Spin it. Slowly, wearily, he opens his eyes, one arm thrown over his forehead now.]
Yeah. Of course you made a move on me. And of course I left. That shit's so standard by now that I don't see why I have to tell you.
[Predictably enough, there's laughter. He walks back over to his bed, but - he doesn't want to sit down. He feels like he's slept for the past ten days.]
It is, isn't it.
[He picks up his pillow, lets it drop on the other side, then hops on the mattress and scoots back until he's against the wall, legs crossed by the ankles.]
Man, I was drunk. Was I sloppy? Don't tell me. I have a reputation to keep.
It is, isn't it.
[He picks up his pillow, lets it drop on the other side, then hops on the mattress and scoots back until he's against the wall, legs crossed by the ankles.]
Man, I was drunk. Was I sloppy? Don't tell me. I have a reputation to keep.
[And as is his way, John just rolls his eyes over to look at Petre instead of his whole head.]
How would I know if you were smooth? I'm not interested. Nothing would work. [He feels like he has thumbtacks on the roof of his mouth, the lie takes such effort now.]
How would I know if you were smooth? I'm not interested. Nothing would work. [He feels like he has thumbtacks on the roof of his mouth, the lie takes such effort now.]
Oh god, I'm dying to know.
[He doubts "they" hold any opinions he gives any kind of shit about, but let him prattle on. He's off the scent, anyway.]
[He doubts "they" hold any opinions he gives any kind of shit about, but let him prattle on. He's off the scent, anyway.]
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