#stupid!!

(from this prompt list)

things you said when you were crying

“Are you fuckin’ crying?” Riff whispers, into the dark of the movie theater. 

“No,” Tony snaps, under his breath. Then he sniffs, quietly. “Maybe.” 

“What the fuck for?” 

“It’s sad!” 

“Sure, if you’re five.” 

“Fuck off, man. It’s fuckin’ tragic.” Somebody coughs, loudly, behind them. Riff turns to glare at them—it’s some pinch-mouthed mother with a kid like a ripe tomato, bursting out of his overalls—but it’s wasted on her: the theater is too dark, and she’s averted her eyes already anyway. Next to him, Tony continues even more quietly, almost directly into Riff’s ear—Riff shivers, settles lower in his seat. “You ain’t got any fuckin’ heart, if you think this ain’t sad.” 

“What do I care about some dumb fuckin’ deer,” Riff mutters. 

“It’s his ma,” Tony says, and sniffs again. “She’s dead, Riff.” 

“Yeah, man. I know. I’m watchin’ the fuckin’ movie same as you.” The woman behind them coughs again; Riff flips her off. “Why we gotta stay for this, huh?”

“S’not like we paid.” (They had snuck into the theater through the back, as they had every couple of days since Ice pointed out the unlocked and unwatched door labeled, simply, ‘Do Not Enter.’)

“Yeah, well, I kinda feel like Disney should be payin’ me right now.” Riff sinks still lower into his seat, and lets his leg bump gently into Tony’s. 

“It’s not that bad,” Tony whispers, and elbows him. “Shut up and watch, and I’ll buy you a malt afterwards.” 

“What is this, a date?”

“Sure,” Tony says. “If you’ll shut up.” 

Riff shuts up. 

Thirty minutes later, Tony turns to him and asks, incredulously, as the lights go up: “Are you crying?” 

“Fuck off.” 

“You are!” 

“It was good, okay? Are you fuckin’ happy?”