player one → tenny

seven.

1:03
home
  — ten

[johnny]: absolutely!

[ten]: good!!!!!
[ten]: so... wyd!!

[johnny is offline.]

ten doesn't think of himself as the needlessly sensitive type, not at all. he is sensitive when the need arises, can be gentle and caring when he must be, in touch with his emotions when the occasion requires him to be, but he likes to think that he doesn't get upset about the littlest things.

still, that mindset doesn't stop his heart from sinking when he asks johnny a question and almost immediately, seconds after ten sends the message, johnny completely disappears. reads the message and leaves.

ten never thought he'd be so upset to see the 'read 1:03a.m.' lingering below the stupid blue bubble of his mistake. and yet here he is, a lump forming in his throat because he's being ignored.

"my god," ten mutters aloud to himself in the overall silence of his bedroom, rolling his chair away from the desk and sitting there blankly for a moment, staring up at the poster of his favourite band hanging above the monitor of his computer, "i'm so fucking stupid."

rational thought says in the back of his mind that perhaps johnny is just a little busy, perhaps he's in class. but something gnaws at him, makes him feel like he's done something irredeemably wrong.

for five minutes, he waits. sits there and stares at the poster above his screen, observing every line of each member's outfits, the details of their faces. then he shifts in his seat, casts his eyes back down to his screen.

what the fuck is wrong with him?

he pulls himself together in time to get up and go grab his bottle of water from across the other side of his room in three or four purposeful strides, lingering by the bookshelf it was resting on for a moment or two longer than he should. he reads the spines of his books while he takes a sip of the water, observing the way he's categorised them — dance on one side, then art, then school, all ordered alphabetically by title. he's about to pick up one of the once on dance for something to do when he hears a telltale ding from his computer.

ten honest to god nearly trips up in his scramble back over to his desk, almost tips his chair over with the eagerness with which he throws himself into it.

it's johnny. thank god it's johnny.

[johnny]: sorry ten
[johnny]: my friend saw my notification and was being a bit of a dick about it lol
[johnny]: he thought you were someone i'd slept with or something. idk. he likes to read into things a lot haha

and johnny's tone is different. and ten decides to take this opportunity to flirt, because if he doesn't do it now, he never will.

[ten]: hh well maybe i could be someone you'd slept with if you'd like
[ten]: to please your friend if nothing
else ;)

and then there's a long silence. excruciatingly quiet. ten starts to worry again.

and then finally, he gets a message back.

[johnny]: haha sorry bro he
knows i'm straight

right.

because of course he is.

ten's experienced this many times. he can almost see the expression that every straight man has made upon uttering those dreaded words — the twisted mouth, sympathetically raised brows, soft apologetic eyes. ten hates it, hates the sympathy, just wishes that these guys would somehow like, throw away their sympathy. just say it straight.

and yet somehow, ten is more disappointed than he usually is at the revelation.

he doesn't even let johnny finish typing before he's sent his reply.

[ten]: oh well then haha
[ten]: WELP good job this is all
in jest isn't it

he doesn't know why he feels a weird sinking feeling in his stomach now, doesn't even know johnny that well. he doesn't have a crush on johnny, that's ridiculous. ten can almost hear the others teasing him now, all 'you fall for every man you ever meet', a tad bit of 'puppy love, ten, puppy love' thrown in on the side. it brings a mildly bittersweet smile to his face.

[johnny]: haha yeah :)

ten decides he doesn't have the energy to keep up a dry conversation tonight, as excited as he was to talk to johnny a little while ago. instead, he sighs through his nose and closes his skype, pushing his chair away from his desk. he'll excuse himself in the morning as 'being tired', he decides.

he feels bad, but. what can he do about it.

he heads to bed instead of messaging anyone else, stares at the ceiling for a long, long while and contemplates his life choices.

johnny is straight. and ten has no business having a tiny little puppy crush on johnny just because he sounds cool whenever they talk. but he does. it's a horrible, painful realisation for ten when he realises that yeah, he really does like johnny like that.

which is stupid. and childish. but it's also the truth.

ten yanks his bedsheets up over his head and squeezes his eyes shut, feigns sleep for the rest of the morning to avoid that harsh, harsh truth.