[Wow, WOW, John was wondering if his roommate was ever gunna actually do anything about this besides sulk and there’s his stinging answer; his head snaps to the side with the force of it and he takes a half step back but that’s it, doesn’t give Daniel the satisfaction of bringing his hand up to cover the reddening mark and doesn’t wince like he wants to, just bares his teeth in something between a smile and a snarl and shoves the guy back with both hands. Fuck you.]
Bite me, you prissy fucker. Oh no, I pissed off the Hulk, and how he’s gunna hit me. Grow the fuck up, Daniel. You can’t know whether I’m going to listen to your or not without fucking trying, and you can’t make that decision for me and when you’re going to turn it around on me that’s just fucking trashy. People are pissy, I’m a fucking pissed off person and I know that but you don’t seem to have any fucking moods besides “oh no how do I function anywhere near someone” and this stuck up “how DARE you enter my space” bullshit and I’ve gotta walk on eggshells so I don’t light your fuse. That’s bullshit. Don’t you fucking try to put that on me; I have made myself available to you, I have tried to show that I’m doing my best to look out for you but that’s something I’ve got to balance along with all of my school shit and the band and my family and my personal life and you certainly don’t make it fucking easy and you don’t make it fucking worth the effort.
[So much for all the talking, because John’s cutting back a little deeper than he expected, and Daniel is left nearly speechless. He’s fought people before, sure, with words and with his hands, but never someone he actually felt something for— he supposes he’s never really felt something for anyone until John, anyway, and that makes it worse. It disgusts and confuses him and god, John’s opinions shouldn’t matter, John’s bullshit words and pretentious attitude shouldn’t have the gears grinding to a halt in his mind but. But. Maybe John’s shitty opinions are right on the mark after all and he’s not worth anyone’s time or effort.
More than any of that, though, Daniel really doesn’t like being pushed— not that he didn’t deserve it, but still— so he pushes harder in return, palms shoving roughly at John’s shoulders in hopes of knocking him back onto his bed. It’s hard not to grab him by the hair and— and— something. But he resists whatever that is.]
Look, I get it, you don’t like me. That’s fine. I never asked you to care about me, I don’t expect special treatment. Don’t act like my moods and my problems are a personal affront on your life because I do everything I can to keep it contained to myself and I can only be so sorry for it.
[Daniel’s somewhere between hitting him again, kissing him, and running away, he’s not sure. The only thing he knows is he’s about to fucking cry, so he starts stepping back, wondering if John would even bother following him if he left.]
So go back to focusing on yourself and your life because you’re right. You said it yourself. I’m not worth the effort.