ᴺᵒʷ ᵖˡᵃʸᶦⁿᵍ; [everybody tells me nothing • beforeyouleave] 1:07 ——◦———— -3:32 
↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ

Dirk wasn't stupid. He knew he was hard to love. Things had taken a turn for the worse years ago, and it wasn't like they had gotten any better. Stubborn, smartass, fag, all things people had called him. He didn't like being perceived as different. It stung at something deep inside him, creating a gaping, leaking hole in his chest.

So when he met someone who finally wanted him? He didn't believe it. It was a joke-- A cruel, cruel joke, where you were only viewing him from a position of higher power. He knew you felt bad for him. He was sure that was why you stayed. And no matter how much he shoved you away and split on you, you wouldn't leave. It didn't make sense to him. It seemed to make the hole in his chest larger as time went on.

And so there he was, hands clenched on his knees as he sat on the edge of your mattress—another big fight. Usually stemmed from Dirk's struggles to communicate, and then branched into Dirk just insulting you. He felt horrible. You deserved better. Why were you here? He didn't want you to let him tear you apart like this. He didn't want to be the reason that you were hurting, because even if he tried to convince himself otherwise, some deep part of him cared about you a lot. And that terrified him.

You knew he was hurting. But you took it. Took every mean word, every crude thing sinking into your skin. He wanted you to have better. But you couldn't leave him. You were the one thing that made him feel like he had meaning—a reason for staying alive.

He shuffled into the living room, where you lay on the couch. He assumed that you weren't going to want to sleep in the same bed with him after that argument. "..What're you doing?"