xp_logs | Just when you thought John couldn't get stupider...

x-pyromaniac.livejournal.com posting in

[Set after this thread. Bobby posted this entry while John was searching him out.]

John tears into the library, before assuming a more sedate pace appropriate to the venue because even he gets scared of librarians. Not that he'd ever admit that. And there's a tension in his stride, a muted anger, his eyes combing over the small computer bay, the stacks, the study desks. Then they fall on you, and he almost quails, wanting to cut and run, but no, he somehow manages to make his way over, and his hands oh so quietly slam down on the table top, fingers taut and outstretched. "I want my lighter back."

Bobby looks up and blinks slowly. "Why do you think I have it?" he asks, watching you with a bit of wariness.

That takes John back, and he fumbles. "Well. I left it behind...I thought you might have kept it for...you know." He blushes, realising that probably says more about how he thinks about you than he'd like to admit.

"Right, because I have time to take care of your stuff while you're off being all evil." Bobby rolls his eyes and looks back to his book. "Get over yourself, John," he mumbles.

John feels as though he's just been told off by a rather disappointed older sibling, and settles slowly into the chair opposite you. "What was all that about you not being here for much longer?" he asks, trying to sound casual and fails completely.

"I'm asking for my own room," he tells you without looking up, seemingly engrossed in the history book in front of him.
luciferthebrave: "Oh. Oh. Well. Oh." That's all John can say. Until: "I'm not trying to chase you out, dude. If anyone should move, it's me."

"What, to the couch?" Bobby finally looks up at you. "Don't worry about it. I've already asked, anyway." He waves vaguely at the now closed laptop sitting near him.

"Well, don't let me stop you then," John mutters, anger rising in his force. "Maybe I'll move too, to somewhere that doesn't make we want to take a forced trip down memory lane everytime I enter."

Irritated, Bobby frowns. "Jesus, is the pity party ever going to stop? What do you want, tea and sympathy?"

John snarls in response. "Yeah, you never did get what I want, did you? Your last attempt at guessing made me go off and almost kill myself for the greater evil." He leans forward, hissing, his voice low. "You don't think I knew it was a setup? I didn't /care/ because it was better to be dead than come back here, and make you think you were /right/."

"Right about /what/?" Bobby asks, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest, still frowning.

"That all you ever need to do is crook your little finger and I'll come a-running," John spits. "I don't want to /have/ you, Drake, not like that. Makes you sound like some kind of goddamn slut."

"Thanks," he replies wryly. "So enlighten me, /Allerdyce/. How /do/ you want to have me?" His tone is slightly mocking.

John stiffens immediately, before blushing and shifting his weight from side to side, unwilling to answer the question as he avoids looking at you. "Figure it out yourself, Bobby," he mutters under his breath. "Besides, it doesn't matter."

"Then what /does/ matter, John? Moping around and alienating people that care about you?" He sighs and sits forward, closing his book and shoving it into his bag. "Or is that honor just for me?"

"I'm with someone," John blurts out, and once he does so, he's on a roll. "I mean, hey, it's not exactly much, it's friends with benefits but at least he trusts me and is my friend and doesn't fuck me over or leave me out of his goddamn /life/ and then expect everything to be fine just because I'm stupid enough to have feelings for him."

"Good for you," Bobby replies tiredly. He stands up and hitches his bag onto his shoulder, tucking the laptop under his other arm. "What do you want me to say, John? Just let it go."

John opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. "I'm sorry I wasn't good enough for you," he mutters, and quickly runs out of the Library, leaving you behind.