hallelujah // jeff buckley
and i’ve seen your flag on the marble arch
and love is not a victory march
it’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah
Bottled up emotions.
This is art
Good. I’ll see you soon, then.
[The run calmed Sonya down considerably. It gave her time to not think about anything at all except running forward, legs and heart pumping, a blessed white noise. Gradually her pace slowed back down and she left the track, moving toward Daniel’s room at a swift walk. She was nervous, yes, but she was certain this would be fine. Almost certain. Somewhat hopeful. Something in her reminded her that if Daniel did try to spread rumours, she could always threaten him, but the thought did little but twist her face in a grimace. Even if it came to that she couldn’t see herself ever harming him, not unless he was really begging it to happen. Sonya halted outside his door, closing her eyes and resting a hand on her chest, willing herself to calm. Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump. God.]
… Daniel? Can I come in?
Hm? Come in, yeah,
[He’d just finished putting some laundry away when she arrived, working to make the room some semblance of tidy. It wasn’t bad in there, not really; it wasn’t so much ‘messy’ as it was evident that Daniel just did not. Give a shit. About organizing. Seemed a waste of energy in such a small space.
Daniel crossed the room to open the door, still dressed in his pajama pants and an old hoodie— tidying himself up hadn’t been that important, apparently— and let Sonya in, beckoning her to come sit down and tell him what the heckity hoo was going on.]
So, uh. Have a good run?
(( "average John is a dick to Daniel 3 times a day" factoid actualy a statistical error. average John is very gentle with Daniel and is never a dick to him. College John, who is an unrelenting asshole and is a dick to Daniel constantly, is an outlier adn should not have been counted ))
That’s not what I fucking said.
[John does follow, angrily, fists clenched at his sides and his lips curled back into something of a sneer because he doesn’t even really get why he’s mad anymore, just that he is and he hates getting pushed around. It’d suck to get into a real fistfight tonight and it would suck even more to get into a fistfight with his roommate but this is bullshit.]
This shit’s all a two way street, okay? It goes both fucking ways and my effort isn’t worth it if you don’t seem to give enough of a shit about me or yourself to put in your effort too. That's what I'm fuckin' saying. And god damn, it's not that I don't like you, I do like you, I feel like maybe we might actually stand a chance at being friends—or at least tolerable roommates—if you figure out that I do want you around and maybe talk about what you fucking need because I don't have ESP, I can't fuckin' guess it. And if you don't want that, well, you can suck it up and apply for a new roommate at the end of the month like everybody else.
[He’d be sad about that, more on principle than anything else; John’s not the kind of guy to need to have to switch rooms, he deals with his fucking problems however he needs to because anything else is running away and really, he would like to be friends, but that’s fucking hard when he’s stuck trying to interact with a brick wall and then pisses off the goddamn brick wall with every other conversation. But they could be friends, they could be great friends that talk about their vinyl and shitty horror movies and Daniel’d buy him booze and he’d drive for pizza and they’d both agree that the popular crowd was full of shit and definitely not for them, or something like that. But whatever. They’re not friends now and John’s edging dangerously into fury as he closes the space between them in a few quick steps and reaches out like he’s going to shove Daniel again; he thinks the better of it and grabs him by the shirt and when he speaks again his voice has dropped into that quiet, menacing calm.]
But if you do fucking stay here, you gotta take a reality check—don’t be fucking sorry for your crap; if it actually matters, do something about it instead of turning into a goddamn drama queen. And get it through your head that you’re a choice I am making, not a ‘personal affront’ to my existence, because I don’t have to put in my effort and I don’t have to give a shit about you but I’d like to be friends.
[God, John’s touching him, John’s very close and apparently, luckily, very oblivious to exactly how Daniel feels about him in that moment. Words are his forte, usually, the English language is his weapon of choice and were he in the right frame of mind he could use that weapon to cut John down. He isn’t in that frame of mind, though. He’s shaken and furious and his heart aches over something he can’t name; he should be fighting back but fuck it, whatever. John’s right, he’s a selfish whiny recluse with no hope of changing.
It’s not that he doesn’t want to change— he does, god, what he’d give to be able to be happy around others and not constantly washed over with discomfort, to hang around with John and his friends and not constantly feel jealous and self conscious. He just doesn’t know how to be anything else.]
Look, I— Christ, John, I want to be friends too, I don’t like being like this. I take no joy in the way I am but I can’t just flip a switch and turn off nineteen— fuck, twenty years of only knowing how to be alone. I know it doesn’t look like it, but I am trying. Just, fuck, do you realize how you are all the time? You’re always angry, you’re always pissed off about something and you shove me away if I so much as try to check on you. I’m not the only one here who’s hard to reach out to, clearly.
But I’m going to keep trying until I figure out how to do this right.
[Slowly Daniel covers John’s hands where they’re gripping his shirt with his own, circles his fingers around those wrists and pushes them down and away. Not roughly, like he wants to, no bruising or breaking. Just removes them from his body before he gets the wrong idea and does something dumb.]
We’re both really shitty at this.