If You Miss It

17. bravado

"And I get that I should have told you that you spilled about your ex. I get that." I'm talking too much, fuck. "What I don't get is when you gave me that shit about I didn't force you to come help me, when you knew that I would have come whether or not you forced me to. I'll fully admit that I was the worse person back then, but that was the fucking past. You're being a terrible person right now, and I know that you're not a terrible person, you're just acting like one. I'm just— I'm so frustrated."

Finally, he was done.

And everything was quiet. Nobody was talking.

Thirty seconds later, Tariq eventually broke the silence with a weak exhale, and a hoarse, "Holy fuck."

"What?"

Tariq just shook his head, his fingers grabbing on each other, one of his multiple nervous habits. "That was... Necessary, I think."

Is that it? Cracking a tiny smile, a feeble one, Dmitri shrugged, heart still racing from his explosion. "Yeah," he muttered, hand involuntarily reaching up to touch his chest, as if that would calm his racing heart.

Another thirty seconds. Thirty seconds of pure silence. Until Tariq said, "I'm sorry. For... everything, I guess. For constantly leaving the situation when shit gets rough. Everything. Formed a habit over the past few years. I don't want to be like— toxic, or anything. Never want to be a toxic person, a person people would want to cut off their lives. I'm sorry. Also, you were never the worse person back then, so—"

"Wait," Dmitri interrupted, shooting Tariq an apologetic smile when he let out a huff of annoyance at being interrupted. "Sorry. Just—" Do we have to talk about it? Do we really? "Do we have to talk about it?"

Tariq snorted, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he said, "You and I both know that if we don't talk about this now, we're never going to talk about it, and we won't be able to work in the same place, let alone survive a car ride together, without jumping at every opportunity to argue. We're immature as fuck, Dmitri."

The fact that it had been nearly two months since they saw each other at The Blackbird, and all that they had done was fight was... confusing, to say the least.

Guess I'll go first then.*

"You do realise that you shoved me back into the closet?" he blurted before his mind could even process his own words, venom on his tongue, it should've poisoned him, but he had grown immune. "That I spent a whole year trying to build up the courage to come out as queer, only to get told by my parents that it was a sin, and then a year later, get told by you that I couldn't even be myself."

The words were just coming out now, poisonous little darts that he was throwing at Tariq, aiming right where it stung, where he was already wounded.

"There's nothing worse than your own boyfriend telling you to stop holding your hand in public because he's too afraid that someone will see the two of you being in a relationship."

Lips pursing together, Tariq let out a deep sigh, tucking his hands away from sight, and almost immediately, Dmitri knew that he was picking at the skin around his nails.

"And you do realise that my family is literally a traditional Pakistani family?" Tariq shot back, voice rough, it always got rougher, more brittle when he was angry. Always sounded like he was on the verge of tears, when in reality, he was the one who would probably cause the tears. "I was scared. I know that that doesn't make sense to you, because you like to pretend that nothing scares you, but I was fucking terrified," he rambled, as if Dmitri didn't know that he was terrified, as if his behaviour during the time that they dated didn't convey it.