[ He’s stuck in his bed, trying to keep as still as possible because every movement causes pain somewhere.
… minus his pillow as it was apparently one of the ones stolen for the party and is probably stinking of sex and booze wherever it is. He’ll have to scrape together money for a new one, he doesn’t want it back. ]
He spiked the food. There’s no other explanation. I … I did things with so many people …
Sure. If you say it a bunch of times, that makes it true. So that's one--do you wanna get a few more reps in right now, or you wanna just let it happen organically throughout the day?
Fuck that, man, everything is fucking chemicals, everything we fucking do is chemicals. Love and arousal and sex are only as important as literally every other fucking thing, so like--either treat like a big deal like every other big fucking deal, or if it doesn't fucking matter, just die.
You don't have to be a bastard genius about this. You're allowed to have fucking feelings about it.
I don’t want to need … anyone else. That’s what I want to turn off. I just want to be by myself. I don’t want to want … kissing. Or hand holding. Or body heat. Or … love. Or any of that.
...It is. Just like guts. Just like your organs, and that's how much you need those feelings too. You don't have to get rid of it, you have to protect it. Like your bones protect your guts.
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...I'm not gonna say last night was like a great example of protecting yourself, but--y'know. Don't throw the baby out with the bathwater.
I dunno, man, slutty was the name of the game. It was--literally the theme of the night. If anyone thinks worse of you and they were there? They're a fucking hypocrite.
How rich would I get betting you're worried about someone?
You're kidding me. Junpei, I have not seen anyone slut it up as much as House did last night. He's got no ground to stand on if he comes for you. He's got like a bog to sink into. Like a cum bog.
[ Sorry if that's gross, but who can say he's wrong?! ]
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[ He’s stuck in his bed, trying to keep as still as possible because every movement causes pain somewhere.
… minus his pillow as it was apparently one of the ones stolen for the party and is probably stinking of sex and booze wherever it is. He’ll have to scrape together money for a new one, he doesn’t want it back. ]
He spiked the food. There’s no other explanation. I … I did things with so many people …
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...I mean, you--seemed pretty drunk, too, but--Junpei, you didn't--
You didn't know?
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[ Oh. Ow. Internal voice too loud. He continues, still agitated but trying to hold back. ]
N-now a bunch of people are going to think I’m … like that. You …
[ The memory of slow, soft grinding. Kisses given generously. ]
… you were effected too, right? You know what I mean? That’s why you made out with me.
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[ like uh like you're doing now ]
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…
…
What.
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[ At least he doesn’t sound mad? Just incredibly confused. ]
How? We spend most of our time together elbow deep in guts and … Quentin you can’t just … SAY that!
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It's fun. Making out, sex--it's fun, man.
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[ That comes out way too quickly. And then … ]
… sex. Oh. Oh my god. I had sex. Real, actual … sex. In … front of people.
[ Fingers trace along the mark on his neck. A cold jolt shoots through his body. ]
… I … I’m really sore.
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...Was that your first time?
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[ But he’s suddenly feeling like he’s being too vulnerable. That’s not good. Have to pull back in some. ]
Whatever. It was going to happen here eventually, right? It’s not like it means anything.
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[ Oh he’s just on a roll now, sounding like Quentin isn’t the only one he’s trying to convince, and talking exactly like freshly arrived Junpei. ]
And arousal and … love are brain chemicals. There’s no point in assigning them deeper meaning. They just are. It’s the metabolism of the soul.
[ But there’s a falter at the end. It’s harder to say it now. ]
cw: allusion to suicide
Fuck that, man, everything is fucking chemicals, everything we fucking do is chemicals. Love and arousal and sex are only as important as literally every other fucking thing, so like--either treat like a big deal like every other big fucking deal, or if it doesn't fucking matter, just die.
You don't have to be a bastard genius about this. You're allowed to have fucking feelings about it.
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[ Tired. In pain. Nerves raw. Being deliriously ridiculous. ]
Feelings have caused me nothing but trouble since I came here! If I could just … turn them off … I’d be fine. Everything wouldn’t be so … stupid!
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[ ... ]
...I'm not gonna say last night was like a great example of protecting yourself, but--y'know. Don't throw the baby out with the bathwater.
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[ A groan into his mattress. ]
I’ve been just trying to focus on work. It’s been going … fine. Then I die and the first thing that happens when I come back is … that.
[ Then, lower. ]
Everyone is going to think I’m a slut.
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How rich would I get betting you're worried about someone?
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[ Danger alarm is sounding. Quick throw out a distraction. ]
… who was that guy?
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[ Sorry if that's gross, but who can say he's wrong?! ]
What guy? Another someone?
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[ Especially reminding him how many other people he slept with! ]
A guy said he was friends with you and told me not to … go wild. Ugh, remembering the stuff we talked about … you have to tell him I’m not like that.
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cw: allusions to past violent abuse
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🎀