his response did not make her feel any better, if anything his attempt to try and be SERIOUS did nothing but piss her off. something bad? was that it? was that all he had to say? it wasn’t like she had been perfect in their relationship, she could have been so much better in understanding everything with his mom and all that … but he hadn’t been anywhere near perfect either.
“ fucking hell, you can’t be serious just for one second, can you? ”
she had no right to be mad, she hadn’t spent a year in jail like he had but that hadn’t meant she had spent the whole just THINKING about how they had ended up in that situation in the boiler room, about how they had come so close to actually KILLING each other. a sigh leaves her lips, looking away from him, running a hand through her hair dark curls.
“ whatever then … guess it doesn’t matter, i just thought that maybe we could actually like adults for once … but oh well, ”
act like ADULTS. the thought rips a scoff from the limp and languid corpse slouched against the cell wall. such a short time ago, she’d demanded the opposite from him - called for him to throw his arms up in defeat, and slink back into the childlike wonder of prom and bad movies, where he could forget that the world was CRUEL and people didn’t care about him, or anyone besides themselves.
dark eyes don’t bother connecting with her. instead, they’re intent upon nail beds, picking at peeling skin and digging out dirt. if he squints, maybe he can imagine himself at some high- end spa, getting a pedicure by nancy, blond hair cascading over her shoulder.
( he can’t look at her. if he does, he might crack - he’s bulletproof so long as he remains still enough, so long as he refuses to remember. )
-- come back after my saturday cartoons, and then we’ll be adults. ”
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