[ evan stares out the window into the darkness. was he followed? does it matter? he's on recuperation, waiting for his ribs to heal; would anyone care if he left for a night? his father's not the waiting type. if he was really pissed, he'd have already blown up evan's phone, demanding he get back. maybe he doesn't care. it seems impossible that he doesn't know.
there's no odd shadows nearby. evan lets out a breath, then shuts the window and yanks down the blinds. nobody's going to care about one more lit-up apartment in this place.
he drops himself onto a dusty sofa in the main room connected to the kitchen and grunts as the injuries make themselves known again. ]
[ david grabs the bottle and brings it through, starts to open it but he decides it's evan's place and evan's drink, he can get it started. ]
[ he follows suit, dropping himself in one of the corners of the couch with a sharp hiss and a curse under his breath before he offers the bottle over. ]
[ evan takes the bottle without comment and opens it. the smell isn't as strong as he expected. been here too long, maybe. or not long enough. he doesn't know how aging gin works.
the first swig doesn't burn like it might if he wasn't partly drunk and beat to all hell and back. he offers it over to david after a second, grimacing. ]
[ he has no idea, but david says it confidently, a hint of amusement to his tone as he takes the bottle. david doesn't mind it so much in a cocktail or with a mixer, but on its own? not his favourite. ]
[ as is evidenced by the way he wrinkles his nose when it hits his tongue. he doesn't get much of the burn he'd expect from liquor, but he sure gets the taste he knows is uniquely gin's. ]
Shit tastes like some old bird sprayed perfume in your mouth.
[ that doesn't stop him taking a second sip before he passes the bottle back though. ]
[ david's about right, so why are they both still drinking it, he wonders? ]
Bet whatever asshole gave it to me is real pissed I never complained about it.
[ it just burns. even the beer wasn't as bad. he shoves the bottle back, feeling more drunk than he knows he should be right now, especially given how little he's actually had. ]
[ he sinks into the corner of the couch a little, warm and comfortable thanks to the alcohol in his system, which is probably why he doesn't take any real issue with what evan says. just scoffs and waves a hand dismissively before he hands it back. ]
[ evan takes the bottle begrudgingly and scowls at david. he looks too comfortable, here in evan's own fucking apartment. the anger bubbles up, but doesn't quite break the surface of alcohol, pain, and exhaustion. ]
Yeah, right. Whatever'll get you into the next club or party or ... wherever the fuck else you go.
[ he tries to sneer, but it doesn't quite work out. he takes another drink instead. ]
[ he snorts, can't argue with that, and shrugs a shoulder. ]
And if it works, I'd say they're good gifts.
[ he grins around the lip of the bottle, knowing he's being just a bit of a shit, but what's he gonna do? give evan a list of all the times he was actually deeply thoughtful or whatever? fuck that. he passes the bottle back. ]
[ david's grin makes bubbles of anger form and pop on the surface of the alcohol haze. ]
All you do is throw money at whatever's in your way. Get whatever the fuck you want. Whoever the fuck you want. Gotta wonder how many real friends you got.
[ spoken by a man who has zero real friends, but evan justifies it as he doesn't want real friends. ]
[ it works for what he needs it for; company when he's bored or lonely, a distraction, insulation against peoples' expectations. nobody expects him to be as smart or capable as he is when all they see is the man who's always either partying or fighting. ]
[ not that that means a thing where it matters, evidently. ]
Yeah? How's being a miserable bastard workin' out for you?
Better than dealin' with fake fucks all day every day.
[ evan glares at david, the alcohol making him just reckless enough to keep talking, no matter how much he might regret it later. ]
Just as fake as you. All that shit ain't real. It ain't you. The only time I think I ever saw who the hell you were was when you were trying to kill me.
[ the gin is disgusting. why does he keep drinking it. ]
[ david clenches his jaw, annoyed by the accusation, but the anger doesn't manage to take hold. not how it would if he was sober. whatever, so he's fake now. he's here in this empty apartment drinking rank gin with someone who'd kill him in a second if he could, and now he's a fake fuck. this is exhausting. ]
It's not fake, it just isn't serious. In't lookin' to any of them for friendship, just... [ he gestures to nothing in particular. ] Fun. Somethin' to take the edge off.
[ except he probably does know, but his mouth is moving and his brain isn't quite able to catch up. ]
All that goddamned partying you do?
[ this is unfair. he knows it. he knows it now, now that they've ... commiserated over their very similar shitty lives. his expression darkens and he glares at the floor where the dust is almost visibly accumulated. ]
[ david sits up straight, glaring at evan, halfway ready to get up and leave. he should've gone home instead of coming out here so evan could give him shit over what he does in his limited free time. so what if david likes to drink and party and-- and have a pretty girl on his arm? who's he hurting? ]
[ ... himself, maybe. when he wakes up hungover and looks at the woman asleep next to him, wonders how long he can keep this shit up for, but that's not anybody else's business, least of all evan fucking macmillan. ]
Why's it matter so much to you if I buy some bird a pretty trinket or go out on the lash? You think that's all I do? Fuck you.
As opposed to walkin' around, lookin' moody like you?
[ shit, at least he enjoys some of the benefits of having money, unlike evan who walks around like it's a noose around his neck and he's just waiting for someone to push him off the platform. ]
[ he can't understand why it bugs evan so much either. if anything it should be a good thing, right? if he cares so much about reputation. least he looks better than david. ]
[ he's moody. he won't admit it, though. somewhat less roughly, he runs his hands up across his scalp, where his hair is short enough that the bruises might just be visible if he looked really closely. ]
You look like a joke. Some kid. And we're supposed to be equals, kinda. Remember?
[ david reaches for the bottle where evan set it down, letting his denial of being moody slide, (though david did roll his eyes,) an amused look in his eyes now he's got an idea of why this bugs evan like it does. ]
So you're pissed 'cause you think I'm makin you look bad.
[ evan's glower is only slightly less damning than usual thanks to the drinks. ]
You're makin' us all look bad. Walking around, doing whatever you want. Getting whoever you want. Not takin' any of this shit seriously unless I get involved. Even then you're just fucking telling jokes.
[ david king, living the high life, while evan takes it all so seriously. it's a totally valid reason to be angry, isn't it? it's not jealousy at all. ]
[ everyone. that's the point. (whoever he wants, god if only that were true.) he could argue, bring up the shit he's done just this past year, but david's not here to prove himself. he works hard. even if the people that matter don't care, they know. ]
Just 'cause people are scared of you, doesn't mean they respect you any more than me.
[ fear is a good enough substitute for most people in their line of work, but david's been around long enough to know they're not the same thing at all. it's not respect, those people wouldn't spit on you if you were on fire. hell, they'd probably celebrate. david would rather make an attempt at not being fucking miserable every now and then instead. ]
[ that stings enough to break through the alcohol haze, and for a second evan considers punching david out. more than a second, actually. he sits there, staring, the anger clear - and some of the surprise, something that's almost hurt.
because of course he knew that but he fucking hates it. they should fear and respect him. that's how it is for his father. that should be how it is for him. but david's right. david keeps on being right.
despite the pain and the exhaustion and knowing more violence is a bad idea, evan lurches off the couch at david anyway. he was raised to think with his fists more than his brain, after all. ]
[ was that too much? it's not exactly difficult to see the way the anger rises in evan, the way there's something else nipping at its heels. it surprises him, makes him wonder what's going through evan's head, but then evan's coming at him and honestly that's a bigger surprise. ]
[ david doesn't get up, maybe he should, but his brain doesn't make it much further than being confused by this. isn't the reason they're even here because neither of them can really fight right now? ]
Wh-- [ his instincts aren't completely dulled, even if they're slower. david reaches to try and bat his fists aside, try and get a grip on his shirt to... who knows. fucking ground him or something. ] State you're in right now?
[ evan grabs david's wrist when he gets a grip on his shirt, and hesitates. he already feels like he's about to drop; standing up that fast was a mistake. but he wants david to shut up. what's the best way to do that? punch him. ]
Shut your fucking mouth.
[ even he knows how weak that sounds. but even with his fist curled at his side, bringing it up to deliver a punch seems like way too much effort. and david's not trying to hit him. he should be. evan doesn't let go, but he doesn't attack. yet. ]
[ the smart part of his brain is telling david to try and diffuse the situation because neither of them is in any state to fight. even less so than earlier, in fact. pissing evan off just means they're both gonna be crawling away in an even sorrier state. ]
[ unfortunately his mouth is already moving before david's even considered that, grip tightening where he's holding evan's shirt. other hand not doing anything, but still raised. ready. ]
Yeah? That why you're coming at me now? 'Cause I'm wrong?
[ he manages to get his fist up, but not enough to hit david. enough to grab the front of his shirt, mirroring what david's doing. the easiest path to take now would be to drag him in and smash their skulls together, but he doesn't have the coordination to avoid stunning himself at the same time.
so he just ... holds onto his shirt. and onto him. ready to attack but not sure if he can. ]
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hardlydead) wrote2024-05-20 10:36 pm
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there's no odd shadows nearby. evan lets out a breath, then shuts the window and yanks down the blinds. nobody's going to care about one more lit-up apartment in this place.
he drops himself onto a dusty sofa in the main room connected to the kitchen and grunts as the injuries make themselves known again. ]
Just bring the bottle. Didn't keep much here.
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[ he follows suit, dropping himself in one of the corners of the couch with a sharp hiss and a curse under his breath before he offers the bottle over. ]
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the first swig doesn't burn like it might if he wasn't partly drunk and beat to all hell and back. he offers it over to david after a second, grimacing. ]
Dogshit.
[ but not necessarily worse than the beer. ]
Wonder if that was intentional.
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[ he has no idea, but david says it confidently, a hint of amusement to his tone as he takes the bottle. david doesn't mind it so much in a cocktail or with a mixer, but on its own? not his favourite. ]
[ as is evidenced by the way he wrinkles his nose when it hits his tongue. he doesn't get much of the burn he'd expect from liquor, but he sure gets the taste he knows is uniquely gin's. ]
Shit tastes like some old bird sprayed perfume in your mouth.
[ that doesn't stop him taking a second sip before he passes the bottle back though. ]
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Bet whatever asshole gave it to me is real pissed I never complained about it.
[ it just burns. even the beer wasn't as bad. he shoves the bottle back, feeling more drunk than he knows he should be right now, especially given how little he's actually had. ]
Same kind of shit you'd do. Giving shitty gifts.
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[ he sinks into the corner of the couch a little, warm and comfortable thanks to the alcohol in his system, which is probably why he doesn't take any real issue with what evan says. just scoffs and waves a hand dismissively before he hands it back. ]
I give great gifts.
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Yeah, right. Whatever'll get you into the next club or party or ... wherever the fuck else you go.
[ he tries to sneer, but it doesn't quite work out. he takes another drink instead. ]
Get whatever girl you want outta her dress.
[ he shoves the bottle back. ]
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And if it works, I'd say they're good gifts.
[ he grins around the lip of the bottle, knowing he's being just a bit of a shit, but what's he gonna do? give evan a list of all the times he was actually deeply thoughtful or whatever? fuck that. he passes the bottle back. ]
I mean, they liked 'em.
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[ david's grin makes bubbles of anger form and pop on the surface of the alcohol haze. ]
All you do is throw money at whatever's in your way. Get whatever the fuck you want. Whoever the fuck you want. Gotta wonder how many real friends you got.
[ spoken by a man who has zero real friends, but evan justifies it as he doesn't want real friends. ]
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[ not that that means a thing where it matters, evidently. ]
Yeah? How's being a miserable bastard workin' out for you?
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[ evan glares at david, the alcohol making him just reckless enough to keep talking, no matter how much he might regret it later. ]
Just as fake as you. All that shit ain't real. It ain't you. The only time I think I ever saw who the hell you were was when you were trying to kill me.
[ the gin is disgusting. why does he keep drinking it. ]
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It's not fake, it just isn't serious. In't lookin' to any of them for friendship, just... [ he gestures to nothing in particular. ] Fun. Somethin' to take the edge off.
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[ except he probably does know, but his mouth is moving and his brain isn't quite able to catch up. ]
All that goddamned partying you do?
[ this is unfair. he knows it. he knows it now, now that they've ... commiserated over their very similar shitty lives. his expression darkens and he glares at the floor where the dust is almost visibly accumulated. ]
Dunno when the fuck you get anything else done.
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[ david sits up straight, glaring at evan, halfway ready to get up and leave. he should've gone home instead of coming out here so evan could give him shit over what he does in his limited free time. so what if david likes to drink and party and-- and have a pretty girl on his arm? who's he hurting? ]
[ ... himself, maybe. when he wakes up hungover and looks at the woman asleep next to him, wonders how long he can keep this shit up for, but that's not anybody else's business, least of all evan fucking macmillan. ]
Why's it matter so much to you if I buy some bird a pretty trinket or go out on the lash? You think that's all I do? Fuck you.
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[ party. show off. fight. and what does evan do? fight. stand around and look dangerous. fight some more.
he sets down the gin and rubs his face with his hands, which isn't a good idea thanks to all the bruises and other sundry damage. ]
Wastin' your time. Reputation. Everything. You look like some rick prick spending daddy's money because you can't make your own.
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[ shit, at least he enjoys some of the benefits of having money, unlike evan who walks around like it's a noose around his neck and he's just waiting for someone to push him off the platform. ]
[ he can't understand why it bugs evan so much either. if anything it should be a good thing, right? if he cares so much about reputation. least he looks better than david. ]
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[ he's moody. he won't admit it, though. somewhat less roughly, he runs his hands up across his scalp, where his hair is short enough that the bruises might just be visible if he looked really closely. ]
You look like a joke. Some kid. And we're supposed to be equals, kinda. Remember?
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[ david reaches for the bottle where evan set it down, letting his denial of being moody slide, (though david did roll his eyes,) an amused look in his eyes now he's got an idea of why this bugs evan like it does. ]
So you're pissed 'cause you think I'm makin you look bad.
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You're makin' us all look bad. Walking around, doing whatever you want. Getting whoever you want. Not takin' any of this shit seriously unless I get involved. Even then you're just fucking telling jokes.
[ david king, living the high life, while evan takes it all so seriously. it's a totally valid reason to be angry, isn't it? it's not jealousy at all. ]
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[ everyone. that's the point. (whoever he wants, god if only that were true.) he could argue, bring up the shit he's done just this past year, but david's not here to prove himself. he works hard. even if the people that matter don't care, they know. ]
Just 'cause people are scared of you, doesn't mean they respect you any more than me.
[ fear is a good enough substitute for most people in their line of work, but david's been around long enough to know they're not the same thing at all. it's not respect, those people wouldn't spit on you if you were on fire. hell, they'd probably celebrate. david would rather make an attempt at not being fucking miserable every now and then instead. ]
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because of course he knew that but he fucking hates it. they should fear and respect him. that's how it is for his father. that should be how it is for him. but david's right. david keeps on being right.
despite the pain and the exhaustion and knowing more violence is a bad idea, evan lurches off the couch at david anyway. he was raised to think with his fists more than his brain, after all. ]
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[ david doesn't get up, maybe he should, but his brain doesn't make it much further than being confused by this. isn't the reason they're even here because neither of them can really fight right now? ]
Wh-- [ his instincts aren't completely dulled, even if they're slower. david reaches to try and bat his fists aside, try and get a grip on his shirt to... who knows. fucking ground him or something. ] State you're in right now?
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Shut your fucking mouth.
[ even he knows how weak that sounds. but even with his fist curled at his side, bringing it up to deliver a punch seems like way too much effort. and david's not trying to hit him. he should be. evan doesn't let go, but he doesn't attack. yet. ]
I get plenty of respect.
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[ unfortunately his mouth is already moving before david's even considered that, grip tightening where he's holding evan's shirt. other hand not doing anything, but still raised. ready. ]
Yeah? That why you're coming at me now? 'Cause I'm wrong?
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[ he manages to get his fist up, but not enough to hit david. enough to grab the front of his shirt, mirroring what david's doing. the easiest path to take now would be to drag him in and smash their skulls together, but he doesn't have the coordination to avoid stunning himself at the same time.
so he just ... holds onto his shirt. and onto him. ready to attack but not sure if he can. ]
You don't know my fucking life.
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