Wanted to clear some old projects off the 'I'll-eventually-get-to-it' list. AU, expanded idea, not-canon, take your pick.
T for language.
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Look, I'm sorry. I was friggin' scared, and I hadn't the faintest idea of what to do.
Cripes, no one's really ready for something like this, you know? I mean, you sort of sprung it on me. I... I didn't know how I was supposed to act anymore.
I suppose that's the problem, isn't it? The first thing worrying me was how I should respond. As a friend.
That's it, Dirk. That's the whole bloody issue. You're one of my best chums in the whole world, and when you told me you fancied me, I was afraid that I would lose that.
...I hope you don't hate me.
I remember once- there was a blighter who really got in your face. You finally hauled off and just punched him. Right in the kisser, wasn't it? I don't think it makes you a bad sort, though. You were bloody furious, but it doesn't mean you're always like that. One action doesn't define you.
...In the same way, I hope you can forgive what I've done.
When you told me, I shouldn't have left. I know it was wrong. I know it hurt you. Everything in me hollers that I don't deserve to even ask for your forgiveness, but here I am. Please, don't hate me. I did something I regret. I left without a word- and I'm sorry.
God, Dirk. Is there any hope for blokes like us?
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'Us', Jake? Who is 'us'?
I think I loved you.
Forget all the bull about 'knowing it's true love'. Truth is, I wasn't sure. But I think it was real- it was more than anything I'd ever felt before.
And yeah, when you said no? That hurt.
But that's not the worst of it. That I could move on from. I mean, for crying out loud, that's a scenario that haunted me for weeks, even before I asked. What if he says no? I couldn't not think about that, so once it finally happened, I was almost relieved.
You have to understand, Jake. I didn't hate you. Not then.
But then you said something else. You... you offered to try. You made it abundantly clear that you didn't like me that way, but then you had the nerve to say you'd try.
Like I was some charity case. Like I needed your help.
Because, even after all this, you were still trying to be my friend. That hurt.
And when I saw pity in your eyes, that hurt even more.
But when you told me you'd try to love me- not because you felt anything, but because you thought you were obligated- that was it, bro.
That fucking burned.
Man, I just- I wish I could tell you everything. I wish all the pain and misery could somehow jump right into your head, because Lord knows I can't describe it. There's no way. Unless you've lived it, you can't know. That's not your fault, but I hate you for it.
God, I... it doesn't make sense. I'm sorry. I just- Shit.
Look, the point is, we both fucked up.
It's not even about sex. Not in the slightest. It's about having a million coked-up demons in your skull, shrieking and clawing at the edges of your eyes until there's nothing you can do except build a fucking robot to fight. Over and over.
Because it's easier than trying to explain, isn't it? You know as well as I do. It's hard, and nobody understands.
Hell, to think normal kids worry about school.