[for Bobby] Break up, and break down.
Aug. 13th, 2016 07:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
prodigalflameThese days, the evening meal was quiet in the Allerdrake household. There were the usual, half-hearted attempts at conversation, a cursory 'how was your day?', while John poked at his food and pretended to not notice what Bobby was eating. Or pretended not to hear about what a great workout he'd had at gym.
The evenings were like that too, more than most, and the days stretched, filled in by uncomfortable silences that even John didn't want to interrupt. When they had sex, or cuddled, or brought a sudden, impulsive smile to each other's lips, it felt good, so shockingly good and rare and true that for John at least it threw the other, dreary-dull-polite times into stark contrast.
While John had never, could never, would never do the crazy vegan thing, he wasn't doing a lot of frying or roasting. Instead, he was making a lot of salads: mostly with grilled haloumi, or chicken tossed through, or couscous and roasted vegetables, stuff like that. It was the closest he could come to a compromise. And salads seemed to suit the summer.
Besides, Bobby was judging him well enough, for not being ridiculous in his culinary habits, so John sat at the table in muted silence and speared a cube of cooked haloumi with his fork.
Some nights he could across at the living room and almost pretend he was alone at the table, alone in the house.
The evenings were like that too, more than most, and the days stretched, filled in by uncomfortable silences that even John didn't want to interrupt. When they had sex, or cuddled, or brought a sudden, impulsive smile to each other's lips, it felt good, so shockingly good and rare and true that for John at least it threw the other, dreary-dull-polite times into stark contrast.
While John had never, could never, would never do the crazy vegan thing, he wasn't doing a lot of frying or roasting. Instead, he was making a lot of salads: mostly with grilled haloumi, or chicken tossed through, or couscous and roasted vegetables, stuff like that. It was the closest he could come to a compromise. And salads seemed to suit the summer.
Besides, Bobby was judging him well enough, for not being ridiculous in his culinary habits, so John sat at the table in muted silence and speared a cube of cooked haloumi with his fork.
Some nights he could across at the living room and almost pretend he was alone at the table, alone in the house.
no subject
Date: 2016-08-15 05:59 am (UTC)And then there were tears on John's cheeks, which only made him angrier, because he didn't want to see John hurting right now, it made his own pain threaten to crack open and spill over. He clung to John's words, words that once again suggested there was something wrong with him just because he wasn't the same old boring Bobby anymore. It was enough to keep the anger stoked, keep the pain at bay.
"Don't hold your breath," he growled, pausing to wrench the ring from his finger and slam it to the top of the dresser before shoving past John to head down the stairs. "Have a nice life, Pyro."
no subject
Date: 2016-08-27 02:27 am (UTC)His life in a wreck around him, John stuck his jaw out and crossed to the balustrade to loom over and gaze down at the departing figure with growing contempt. This was why a part of him had always loathed Bobby, why they'd always been different. John fought for things because he gave a crap: Bobby only fought if backed into a corner, and most of the time he fled.
"...Oh, that's rich, coming from the guy who got off on my hair, Iceman." John had done the bleach job to make him happy, he'd compromised and changed and tempered himself, all to get along with the guy, to take his place in a world that he hated and who hated him in turn, and there was Bobby, running off again. "Yeah, you're just fine, no damage here."
Pausing, he hollered as he came down the stairs, determined to let this be his last word even as he all but chased Bobby out the door: "Your Mom will set you up with the nicest girl. You'll have a perfect life. Enjoy the lack of actual feelings, and go fuck yourself, Frosty."