He doesn't look up again, appropriately scorned, like well you opened up and this is what you got, which is why you don't ever open up.
"I know," he mumbles, looking at the floor, hands braced loosely on the edge of the bed.
What more can he say? There's nothing, really. Nothing left. He sits there, shoulders slumped, curled over like a kicked fucking puppy, and he doesn't want to just sit there feeling sorry for himself, he can't stand that. He could kick off his shoes and go to sleep, he's suddenly so tired that kind of sounds great, but that would look so petulant.
Instead he rubs one hand over his face, like trying to brush it all away. Yeah, good luck with that.
"You hungry?" he says softly, fairly toneless. "Let's order something."
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Okay well he probably deserved that.
He doesn't look up again, appropriately scorned, like well you opened up and this is what you got, which is why you don't ever open up.
"I know," he mumbles, looking at the floor, hands braced loosely on the edge of the bed.
What more can he say? There's nothing, really. Nothing left. He sits there, shoulders slumped, curled over like a kicked fucking puppy, and he doesn't want to just sit there feeling sorry for himself, he can't stand that. He could kick off his shoes and go to sleep, he's suddenly so tired that kind of sounds great, but that would look so petulant.
Instead he rubs one hand over his face, like trying to brush it all away. Yeah, good luck with that.
"You hungry?" he says softly, fairly toneless. "Let's order something."