( quentin's pointing, and now julian's raising his arms to also point right at him. there's plenty of distance between them, he isn't close enough to jab fingers into his chest which is probably just as well, considering he would be if there were just a few less steps in between them.
instead they just. both have this aggressive pointing bullshit going on. which is whatever. at least no one else is around to witness this. )
You keep flirting with me then starting crap with me and I don't know what the hell it is you want - do you want to fight? Do you want me to shove you over?! Do you just want an excuse to whine at four in the fucking morning in the kitchen before you go back to Sophie? Or are you just trying to piss me off to see how hard you can push until I lose my shit, because you're already riding that line, asshole, and neither of us wants to see where we end up after!
[Honestly, thank fuck nobody is around to witness this. Any of this. The entire conversation is an unmitigated, undeniable disaster. A veritable clusterfuck.
Quentin visibly falters at Keller's accusation. Because... okay, look. Technically he's not wrong. Sure, he could argue that yeah, that's how Quentin talks, idiot. Because it is. Provocative, vulgar bullshit? That's Quentin Quire's bread and butter. Is it wishful thinking? He didn't think so, but... Ugh. Quentin looks to the side with a scowl, hunching his shoulders.
Fortunately, he's saved from having to ponder that any further by Keller going on some stupid rant about blah blah blah I'm so mean and tough and scary and you live to get punched by me because you're a pathetic little rat boy. Yawn. He's heard it before a million times. Get some new material, Keller. Except... what was that about a kitchen at four in the morning?? He looks up suddenly, brows furrowed.]
( he doesn't get why this is so hard to understand. but it is quentin quire, so. maybe it's not as surprising as he had originally suspected. he asks why and julian just - squints at him. drops his hands so he's no longer pointing, because pointing while trying to figure out what the hell this guy is going on about probably isn't helping much if at all. )
You called me out to talk about your problems like we were pals until you decided to come back around and piss me off again. ( at least he's not yelling anymore. even if his voice is still loud, and he still sounds pretty pissed off. ) Like you were intentionally getting under my skin so next time you decided to start shit it'd just piss me off more.
[Okay, see, now we're getting somewhere. Where? Who the hell knows. But they're not just yelling "nuh uh" "yeah huh" until the heat death of the universe, so that's... progress? It's something. And the gears in Quentin's head are turning now that Keller's decided to very helpfully not yell complete nonsense, trying to make sense of what kind of point the guy's making. He tilts his head to the side with a skeptical curl of his lip.]
Wait. Hold on. Do you—so... today. The kitchen. You think I'm out to get all chummy with you for... what? Ammo? Is that what's going on here?
( it's a confused response in a very confused voice because. he doesn't know what the hell quire is after and that's basically the whole problem here. because he can't read him, doesn't know what he wants, doesn't know what the hell to do with the guy who keeps flirting or not flirting with him and being a dick about everything because he is just - just like that?
okay. maybe he should know what to do, because that's julian's whole thing also. he's just less of a smarmy little prick about it. )
I don't know what the hell you want from me! Do you even know!
[... Okay, maybe Keller has a point. Maybe. Quentin huffs, turning away to pace anxiously.]
Look, we both remember all the shit from that night, right? Right. No need to rehash. Great. Ever since all of, you know, that, it just—god, fuck, this is stupid. What's the fucking point?
[Quentin stops, flashes Julian a glare and an eyeroll, and shrugs aggressively.]
All that's gonna happen is I tell you that for a straight guy you sure as hell seem to like it when I flirt with you, so maybe jot that down, and then you're going to get all pissy and "yeah right you're the last person in the world I'd want flirting with me blah blah blah, also please ignore that I'm the loneliest motherfucker in mutant history, it's totally a secret and nobody knows, including the one guy I've had a whole goddamn conversation about it with". It's old, it's stupid, and I'm bored. Waste of my precious goddamn time.
( quentin paces, and julian just stays right where he's at. not moving any closer, not raising hands to point fingers at him again or anything, just - stays where he's at, watching quentin move around like he's - nervous? ha. )
So you admit you've been flirting with me.
( see, he knew it. not that it wasn't obvious before quentin admitted to it, but now he has just - said it out loud. that he's flirting with julian. that clearly julian isn't hallucinating because it's right fucking there and this asshole knows it. dick. but he does feel slightly better now knowing that quentin knows exactly what he's doing so he's - got that going for him, at least.
not that it's helping him with anything here, aside from being able to say ha i knew it. )
You're the one who wanted to talk, asshole. And how the hell do I seem to like it when you flirt with me? You're the one who always starts shit.
Uh, I dunno, maybe "try asking politely" or—or whatever the fuck was going on at the pool way back when or—wait. Hold the fuck up.
[Quentin stops short because—what was that??? The "you admit it" part just registered in his brain, derailing every train of thought he was going down up to that point. He... admits it? He admits?? It????? Quentin stares at Julian in baffled disbelief. Is he really that fucking stupid? Or does he just not remember?]
I offered you a helping hand, you moron. You know? When I pulled that little thought fragment out of your brain? Ring any fucking bells?
[He points emphatically at his own head, as though an illustration is necessary.]
How about you tell me what the hell you thought that meant?
( what happened to not mentioning that ever again?
technically speaking, julian brought up the whole quentin flirting with him thing first, but quentin's the one that wanted to meet up and was accusing julian of flirting with him and so this is somehow his fault and definitely not at all julian's.
there's a scowl on his face, but, )
Was that before or after you and Sophie started getting into bullshit?
[Look. If there's an elephant in the room, Quentin has to mention it. He's just gotta. It's a compulsion. A way of life. Secrets secrets are no fun, secrets secrets hurt someone.
... Unless they're his in which case what elephant.
But this one isn't. Which means he's gonna yap about it.
Julian is scowling and diverts to—what else?—the Sophie situation. Quentin rolls his eyes and folds his arms over his chest.]
Before. Obviously. It was before we kinda figured our shit out. Ish. Pool was after, in case you're curious. Why?
( this is the worst conversation he's ever had in his entire life because even julian doesn't quite know where he's going with it, which just makes it even more messy. because fuck quentin quire for causing all this bullshit but also how dare he?
arms raise, almost as if he's going to cross them over his chest before he realizes quentin just did that and instead of coming across as some kind of disappointed copy-cat, julian puts a hand on his hip, raising a brow. )
So you're, what, flirting with me then immediately going off to fuck around with Sophie?
( rude? it's not like he and sophie are dating-dating. so it probably not actually a big deal. but also? fucked to offer julian a hand then go fuck someone else. )
[What the hell is this conversation? And what did Quentin do to deserve it? Nothing, that's what! Okay, maybe something. But still!
There was a brief pause in the yelling, but guess what, it's back now. Quentin uncrosses his arms to gesture sharply at Julian with both hands.]
Are you serious, dude? Oh. Yeah. My bad. Next time I'll double-check with the straight guy who thought a buzzed, half-formed idea at me before I stumble into a weird, stupid situationship with my ex's identical sister that only happened because every single fucking conversation we try to have goes to shit.
It's not about how I feel about any of it, asshole.
( he has no idea where the hell this conversation has fucked off to. but it's too late, they're in it, and quentin's started yelling again so julian starts up again also, leaning just a little with a hand raised to point straight at quentin again. )
It's a dick move toward Sophie regardless of who you were messing around with outside of her. Maybe if you weren't such a fucked up mess you'd figure out how to just talk to people!
[Quentin glowers at that pointing finger. Just where the hell does Keller get off accusing him of shit? It's absurd. Outlandish! Offensive! So much so that he decides to point back even more aggressively. That'll show him! Somehow.]
Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass for a second you'd hear what I'm actually fucking saying!
[And what is he saying? Uh, well. It's obvious! Duh! Don't even need to explain it. Yep.]
Fuck off with your "sneaking around behind Sophie's back" accusations, because you and I both know that ain't true. Last time was on the public goddamn network, and newsflash, genius, she's got eyes. This is your stupid crisis, not mine!
( quentin's pointing aggressively now? guess he needs to point back even more aggressively despite the fact they're standing - what, just barely out of arm's reach? jesus christ. he doesn't even know what he's doing anymore but he's still doing it because. they're here. and julian doesn't know where he's supposed to get off this ride so obviously that means he just has to stay on it until he finds a way to win. )
You're the one who started crap on the network! You're the one who turned this into a whole thing! This is your crisis, not mine!
[Holy shit, he's going to have an aneurysm. This is it. His latest death. His massive amazing incredible brain is going to fucking spontaneously combust due to exposure to too much raw stupidity. Courtesy of one Julian Keller. Well, everybody, it was a good run. So long and thanks for all the fish.
Or, you know, he could just vaporize Keller's brain, but. Eh. Honestly, who knows if there's anything up there. Could be a matter plus anti-matter situation. Create a black hole that swallows everyone and destroys the world.
... Or he could, you know. Let it go. Calm down. Be reasonable. But that's. So. Haaard. Ugh ugh ugh.
Okay. Alright. Whatever. He'll do it. But only for the sake of saving the world and, more importantly, himself. Quentin forces himself to lower his hand, a process that judging by the grimace on his face takes significant effort, and breathes harshly out through his nose. Straightens his shoulders. Puts two fingers to his temple.]
Fine. You want me to tell Sophie? Good thing I've got a direct line. Should I get her blessing just to ogle from afar, make a few suggestive comments? Or you think I should ask her for any makeout tips? You know, since her being informed is apparently your biggest concern.
( he feels like there was a point he was trying to make here and it's gotten completely lost under the yelling and bitching and pointing and - whatever the fuck this is, hell if julian knows. he's usually better at this, isn't he? usually. not at handling quire, to hell with that, but with handling anyone else. )
I - ( i what? that's not what he meant? because it isn't. i don't know how the hell to answer your stupidity? because he doesn't. but to be fair, he doesn't know what the hell either of them are going on about at this point either so it's.
hell.
is he more pissed at himself or at quire at this point? who the fuck knows. his hand drops too, because there's no point in making it worse even if he feels the instinctual need to shove quire over now.
a process that makes him realize also that he's mirroring the energy quire's giving off which just pisses him off more. julian'll do it intentionally sometimes, but this isn't that. maybe he should just push him over. just for that.)
You know what? I don't care. Do whatever the hell you want.
( he's resisting the urge to shove still. would it make him feel better? yes. but it'd also escalate - all of this. )
[Quentin lowers his hand from his temple and tries not to look too haughty about it. He fails, but you know. It's the thought that counts. At least he successfully resists the urge to make this worse, which he could very easily do. So hey, got that going for them. He sighs and rubs his hand over his forehead.]
What I want is for you to, I dunno. Be honest with me? Or... you know, with yourself, at least. Fuck, that's corny. Hang on.
[He grimaces and scratches his scalp for a moment in thought.]
Look, man, I get it. You're pissed the fuck off for—reasons, doesn't matter, and that shit's gotta go somewhere. So you pick some place—or some places—and bam, that's where the shit goes. You know? People, concepts, situations... whatever. It just, well.
[He looks up and to the left briefly before looking purposefully back at Julian, though he instinctively shoves his hands back into his pockets with a shrug. 50/50 shot that the asshole is receptive to all this blather or if he just gets defensive and mad. Hopefully Quentin's luck is good today, but you never know.]
Shit doesn't always go to the best places. You feel?
for a multitude of reasons, really. the guy is a prick. has a stupidly high ego in some ways and stupidly low self esteem in others in just the wrong ways so it - rubs against julian in a way he really does not appreciate. he doesn't have the patience for it. doesn't even know how to describe the ways in which he doesn't know how to fucking tolerate quentin's bullshit. maybe it's because they're riding opposite sides of the social hierarchy yet struggling with the same goddamn problems and just - dealing with them all in really shitty ways.
fighting like this with one another, where they'll yell at each other on rooftops over who the hell knows what before calming down and instead struggling with - this. the emotional weight of all their fucked up life problems that are both the same and entirely different all in the same breath.
julian's mouth presses together into a fine line, because he knows quentin knows he isn't necessarily wrong and that telling him he's got no idea what he's talking about is just going to make him even more right. but he doesn't want to talk about it either. )
Our entire lives are fucked. ( is a good starting point, probably. both of them know this. ) Crap here is fucked. And there's nothing either of us can do to fix any of it because this is just the way it's going to be for us.
( from m-day on, nothing has ever felt safe. for quentin, it started earlier. but it's - they're mutants. x-men. young adults who never had the opportunity to be kids because of all the fucking hate directed their way. doesn't matter. they both know it. )
But congrats on getting some of your own shit figured out. At least one of us managed it. Couldn't be me.
[Cool, a secret third option. Quentin loves that for himself. Keller has found a way to be both receptive and defensive, which honestly? Takes talent. Kudos to him, seriously. Unfortunately it's also a pain in Quentin's ass, so kudos revoked. Sorry not sorry.
He peers at Julian for a moment through narrowed eyes. Hm. They sure are a pair of cynical asshats, aren't they? Damn. Of course, Quentin prefers to think of himself as a realist, but well. When your entire reality is shit, what's the difference? None. It just is what it is. Nothing to be done except pick up your piles of baggage and carry on. It's either that or lay down and die, and well. There's a couple of floating prosthetic hands that say which one of those options Julian chooses. Hell, Quentin's died more than any other mutant, but damn it, he sure as hell doesn't stay down.
All that to say... Keller's full of crap.]
Yeah, I'm not buying it.
[Said matter-of-factly with another nonchalant lift of his shoulders.]
Shit's fucked, yeah, but you're not a quitter. Asshole, yeah. Miserable sack of crap, obviously. But not a quitter.
[Quentin strolls over and plops down to sit cross-legged near the edge of the roof.]
Besides, I'm way more messed up in the head than you are. If I can get some of my shit together, you've got no damn excuse.
I've still got burns on my arms and legs from trying to dig Brian out from the school bus before it'd really gone up in flames.
( it's completely without context. he knows it's a weird fucking place to go with this whole conversation. everything else going on. just like he knows it's entirely relevant despite it being a weird direction to turn in. because julian isn't finished yet. )
Though a lot've them are mostly covered by burns from the Sentinels blowing off my hands. I'm not going to rehash stupid crap. I bring up my lack of a spleen, you bring up you've died over thirty-six times, we both bitch about how neither of us are even close to in one piece 'cause sure, I'm covered in the physical evidence of all my fuck ups, but you get the fun mental scars of being ripped to pieces countless times. I bring up how everyone fucked off and left me behind, you bring up how they would leave you behind if you weren't so stupidly useful.
( he's not sitting, not getting himself comfortable, but he's not walking away just yet either. instead, julian's shoving his hands into his pockets, chewing on the inside of his cheek. )
There's a girl back home who I've been in love with since I was fifteen, who's never going to bother giving me a second glance even if I do come back in one piece. Sophie already showed me as much. But it doesn't even matter, because I'm stuck here, mourning a home I'd barely had time to get used to being safe because it's gone now and even if it wasn't, it was always fucked. You think if I fell off from here and splattered on the ground, Aurora'd bring me back in one piece? Except you're right, I'm not a quitter. I can't just let go of crap, and maybe that's my whole problem.
[Uh, what? Quentin looks back with a raised eyebrow when Julian brings up the bus. Uh, okay, random but, uh. Eh, sure, why not, he'll hear the guy out. So he does, and... Woof. It's a doozy. Around the part where he brings up all the deaths, Quentin turns to look forward out across the horizon. He's never been great about making eye contact for crap like that. But it's fine. It's not like Julian's expecting any kind of diligent eye contact or anything. He knows Quentin is listening. "Perk" of being a telepath: hearing shit is never the problem.
He waits until it's clear that Keller is done and... scoffs quietly.]
Guy without hands can't let go. That's a hell of a punchline.
[Quentin gestures vaguely at the area of the roof near his spot without looking up.]
Come on, asshole. Sit. If you're gonna angst, might as well not be by yourself.
[And since there's no point in waiting for Julian to actually decide to sit down or just linger weirdly around, Quentin continues talking as though he will sit down. He's been on the opposite end of this enough times to know how excruciating it is when somebody brings too much attention to your avoidant bullshit.]
Okay, real talk? You asked me what I wanted. With, you know, this whole... whatever.
[He clears his throat and absently adjusts his glasses before looking at his hand and placing it and the other in his lap.]
Here's another one for you: guy who can't touch anything and a guy who feels every godforsaken thinking life form on the planet walk into a bar. I wanted... I dunno, I can't fix anything. I know that. But, I mean. I feel everything, dude. The one damn time our stupid ironic bullshit actually lines up, and I just... I wanted to help. Somehow. That's all.
( he doesn't want to sit down, thank you very much. especially not when they're talking about his life problems, because it's already hard enough as it is when he's got a very easy way out - think of how hard it'll be when he's down and it'll take a few more moments to get up and running when this conversation shifts a direction he doesn't want it to go.
he hesitates for several long moments, but does end up giving in and walking himself over to where quentin has settled so he can drop down to the rooftop with a good arm's length between them still, heel of one foot pressed to the ground so he can rest his forearm against his knee. listens, because that's what this whole bullshit is about - right? listening. trying to find some kind of middle ground because they do keep starting fights over fucking - nothing. )
I don't want your feelings. I don't want to feel crap from your perspective. From using your abilities. ( he knows quentin feels - well. everything. if he wanted to, he could tap into julian's head, feel everything he feels, really get it. but that's not the point. and he knows quentin gets that, too. ) I wanted to be free. Thought if I went through Crucible and came back, I'd finally get that. To not feel so fucking - tied down by all the bullcrap of before. I was holding onto that like it was the only hope I had of fixing anything, and now? I don't know, man.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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( quentin's pointing, and now julian's raising his arms to also point right at him. there's plenty of distance between them, he isn't close enough to jab fingers into his chest which is probably just as well, considering he would be if there were just a few less steps in between them.
instead they just. both have this aggressive pointing bullshit going on. which is whatever. at least no one else is around to witness this. )
You keep flirting with me then starting crap with me and I don't know what the hell it is you want - do you want to fight? Do you want me to shove you over?! Do you just want an excuse to whine at four in the fucking morning in the kitchen before you go back to Sophie? Or are you just trying to piss me off to see how hard you can push until I lose my shit, because you're already riding that line, asshole, and neither of us wants to see where we end up after!
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Quentin visibly falters at Keller's accusation. Because... okay, look. Technically he's not wrong. Sure, he could argue that yeah, that's how Quentin talks, idiot. Because it is. Provocative, vulgar bullshit? That's Quentin Quire's bread and butter. Is it wishful thinking? He didn't think so, but... Ugh. Quentin looks to the side with a scowl, hunching his shoulders.
Fortunately, he's saved from having to ponder that any further by Keller going on some stupid rant about blah blah blah I'm so mean and tough and scary and you live to get punched by me because you're a pathetic little rat boy. Yawn. He's heard it before a million times. Get some new material, Keller. Except... what was that about a kitchen at four in the morning?? He looks up suddenly, brows furrowed.]
Why'd you say that? About the kitchen.
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You called me out to talk about your problems like we were pals until you decided to come back around and piss me off again. ( at least he's not yelling anymore. even if his voice is still loud, and he still sounds pretty pissed off. ) Like you were intentionally getting under my skin so next time you decided to start shit it'd just piss me off more.
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Wait. Hold on. Do you—so... today. The kitchen. You think I'm out to get all chummy with you for... what? Ammo? Is that what's going on here?
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( it's a confused response in a very confused voice because. he doesn't know what the hell quire is after and that's basically the whole problem here. because he can't read him, doesn't know what he wants, doesn't know what the hell to do with the guy who keeps flirting or not flirting with him and being a dick about everything because he is just - just like that?
okay. maybe he should know what to do, because that's julian's whole thing also. he's just less of a smarmy little prick about it. )
I don't know what the hell you want from me! Do you even know!
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[... Okay, maybe Keller has a point. Maybe. Quentin huffs, turning away to pace anxiously.]
Look, we both remember all the shit from that night, right? Right. No need to rehash. Great. Ever since all of, you know, that, it just—god, fuck, this is stupid. What's the fucking point?
[Quentin stops, flashes Julian a glare and an eyeroll, and shrugs aggressively.]
All that's gonna happen is I tell you that for a straight guy you sure as hell seem to like it when I flirt with you, so maybe jot that down, and then you're going to get all pissy and "yeah right you're the last person in the world I'd want flirting with me blah blah blah, also please ignore that I'm the loneliest motherfucker in mutant history, it's totally a secret and nobody knows, including the one guy I've had a whole goddamn conversation about it with". It's old, it's stupid, and I'm bored. Waste of my precious goddamn time.
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So you admit you've been flirting with me.
( see, he knew it. not that it wasn't obvious before quentin admitted to it, but now he has just - said it out loud. that he's flirting with julian. that clearly julian isn't hallucinating because it's right fucking there and this asshole knows it. dick. but he does feel slightly better now knowing that quentin knows exactly what he's doing so he's - got that going for him, at least.
not that it's helping him with anything here, aside from being able to say ha i knew it. )
You're the one who wanted to talk, asshole. And how the hell do I seem to like it when you flirt with me? You're the one who always starts shit.
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[Quentin stops short because—what was that??? The "you admit it" part just registered in his brain, derailing every train of thought he was going down up to that point. He... admits it? He admits?? It????? Quentin stares at Julian in baffled disbelief. Is he really that fucking stupid? Or does he just not remember?]
I offered you a helping hand, you moron. You know? When I pulled that little thought fragment out of your brain? Ring any fucking bells?
[He points emphatically at his own head, as though an illustration is necessary.]
How about you tell me what the hell you thought that meant?
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technically speaking, julian brought up the whole quentin flirting with him thing first, but quentin's the one that wanted to meet up and was accusing julian of flirting with him and so this is somehow his fault and definitely not at all julian's.
there's a scowl on his face, but, )
Was that before or after you and Sophie started getting into bullshit?
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... Unless they're his in which case what elephant.
But this one isn't. Which means he's gonna yap about it.
Julian is scowling and diverts to—what else?—the Sophie situation. Quentin rolls his eyes and folds his arms over his chest.]
Before. Obviously. It was before we kinda figured our shit out. Ish. Pool was after, in case you're curious. Why?
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arms raise, almost as if he's going to cross them over his chest before he realizes quentin just did that and instead of coming across as some kind of disappointed copy-cat, julian puts a hand on his hip, raising a brow. )
So you're, what, flirting with me then immediately going off to fuck around with Sophie?
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Anyway. Quentin narrows his eyes. Awfully sus question there, Jules.]
If you're straight then why's it matter?
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( rude? it's not like he and sophie are dating-dating. so it probably not actually a big deal. but also? fucked to offer julian a hand then go fuck someone else. )
Because you're not.
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There was a brief pause in the yelling, but guess what, it's back now. Quentin uncrosses his arms to gesture sharply at Julian with both hands.]
Are you serious, dude? Oh. Yeah. My bad. Next time I'll double-check with the straight guy who thought a buzzed, half-formed idea at me before I stumble into a weird, stupid situationship with my ex's identical sister that only happened because every single fucking conversation we try to have goes to shit.
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( he has no idea where the hell this conversation has fucked off to. but it's too late, they're in it, and quentin's started yelling again so julian starts up again also, leaning just a little with a hand raised to point straight at quentin again. )
It's a dick move toward Sophie regardless of who you were messing around with outside of her. Maybe if you weren't such a fucked up mess you'd figure out how to just talk to people!
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Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass for a second you'd hear what I'm actually fucking saying!
[And what is he saying? Uh, well. It's obvious! Duh! Don't even need to explain it. Yep.]
Fuck off with your "sneaking around behind Sophie's back" accusations, because you and I both know that ain't true. Last time was on the public goddamn network, and newsflash, genius, she's got eyes. This is your stupid crisis, not mine!
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( quentin's pointing aggressively now? guess he needs to point back even more aggressively despite the fact they're standing - what, just barely out of arm's reach? jesus christ. he doesn't even know what he's doing anymore but he's still doing it because. they're here. and julian doesn't know where he's supposed to get off this ride so obviously that means he just has to stay on it until he finds a way to win. )
You're the one who started crap on the network! You're the one who turned this into a whole thing! This is your crisis, not mine!
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Or, you know, he could just vaporize Keller's brain, but. Eh. Honestly, who knows if there's anything up there. Could be a matter plus anti-matter situation. Create a black hole that swallows everyone and destroys the world.
... Or he could, you know. Let it go. Calm down. Be reasonable. But that's. So. Haaard. Ugh ugh ugh.
Okay. Alright. Whatever. He'll do it. But only for the sake of saving the world and, more importantly, himself. Quentin forces himself to lower his hand, a process that judging by the grimace on his face takes significant effort, and breathes harshly out through his nose. Straightens his shoulders. Puts two fingers to his temple.]
Fine. You want me to tell Sophie? Good thing I've got a direct line. Should I get her blessing just to ogle from afar, make a few suggestive comments? Or you think I should ask her for any makeout tips? You know, since her being informed is apparently your biggest concern.
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I - ( i what? that's not what he meant? because it isn't. i don't know how the hell to answer your stupidity? because he doesn't. but to be fair, he doesn't know what the hell either of them are going on about at this point either so it's.
hell.
is he more pissed at himself or at quire at this point? who the fuck knows. his hand drops too, because there's no point in making it worse even if he feels the instinctual need to shove quire over now.
a process that makes him realize also that he's mirroring the energy quire's giving off which just pisses him off more. julian'll do it intentionally sometimes, but this isn't that. maybe he should just push him over. just for that.)
You know what? I don't care. Do whatever the hell you want.
( he's resisting the urge to shove still. would it make him feel better? yes. but it'd also escalate - all of this. )
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What I want is for you to, I dunno. Be honest with me? Or... you know, with yourself, at least. Fuck, that's corny. Hang on.
[He grimaces and scratches his scalp for a moment in thought.]
Look, man, I get it. You're pissed the fuck off for—reasons, doesn't matter, and that shit's gotta go somewhere. So you pick some place—or some places—and bam, that's where the shit goes. You know? People, concepts, situations... whatever. It just, well.
[He looks up and to the left briefly before looking purposefully back at Julian, though he instinctively shoves his hands back into his pockets with a shrug. 50/50 shot that the asshole is receptive to all this blather or if he just gets defensive and mad. Hopefully Quentin's luck is good today, but you never know.]
Shit doesn't always go to the best places. You feel?
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for a multitude of reasons, really. the guy is a prick. has a stupidly high ego in some ways and stupidly low self esteem in others in just the wrong ways so it - rubs against julian in a way he really does not appreciate. he doesn't have the patience for it. doesn't even know how to describe the ways in which he doesn't know how to fucking tolerate quentin's bullshit. maybe it's because they're riding opposite sides of the social hierarchy yet struggling with the same goddamn problems and just - dealing with them all in really shitty ways.
fighting like this with one another, where they'll yell at each other on rooftops over who the hell knows what before calming down and instead struggling with - this. the emotional weight of all their fucked up life problems that are both the same and entirely different all in the same breath.
julian's mouth presses together into a fine line, because he knows quentin knows he isn't necessarily wrong and that telling him he's got no idea what he's talking about is just going to make him even more right. but he doesn't want to talk about it either. )
Our entire lives are fucked. ( is a good starting point, probably. both of them know this. ) Crap here is fucked. And there's nothing either of us can do to fix any of it because this is just the way it's going to be for us.
( from m-day on, nothing has ever felt safe. for quentin, it started earlier. but it's - they're mutants. x-men. young adults who never had the opportunity to be kids because of all the fucking hate directed their way. doesn't matter. they both know it. )
But congrats on getting some of your own shit figured out. At least one of us managed it. Couldn't be me.
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He peers at Julian for a moment through narrowed eyes. Hm. They sure are a pair of cynical asshats, aren't they? Damn. Of course, Quentin prefers to think of himself as a realist, but well. When your entire reality is shit, what's the difference? None. It just is what it is. Nothing to be done except pick up your piles of baggage and carry on. It's either that or lay down and die, and well. There's a couple of floating prosthetic hands that say which one of those options Julian chooses. Hell, Quentin's died more than any other mutant, but damn it, he sure as hell doesn't stay down.
All that to say... Keller's full of crap.]
Yeah, I'm not buying it.
[Said matter-of-factly with another nonchalant lift of his shoulders.]
Shit's fucked, yeah, but you're not a quitter. Asshole, yeah. Miserable sack of crap, obviously. But not a quitter.
[Quentin strolls over and plops down to sit cross-legged near the edge of the roof.]
Besides, I'm way more messed up in the head than you are. If I can get some of my shit together, you've got no damn excuse.
cw: suicidal ideation
( it's completely without context. he knows it's a weird fucking place to go with this whole conversation. everything else going on. just like he knows it's entirely relevant despite it being a weird direction to turn in. because julian isn't finished yet. )
Though a lot've them are mostly covered by burns from the Sentinels blowing off my hands. I'm not going to rehash stupid crap. I bring up my lack of a spleen, you bring up you've died over thirty-six times, we both bitch about how neither of us are even close to in one piece 'cause sure, I'm covered in the physical evidence of all my fuck ups, but you get the fun mental scars of being ripped to pieces countless times. I bring up how everyone fucked off and left me behind, you bring up how they would leave you behind if you weren't so stupidly useful.
( he's not sitting, not getting himself comfortable, but he's not walking away just yet either. instead, julian's shoving his hands into his pockets, chewing on the inside of his cheek. )
There's a girl back home who I've been in love with since I was fifteen, who's never going to bother giving me a second glance even if I do come back in one piece. Sophie already showed me as much. But it doesn't even matter, because I'm stuck here, mourning a home I'd barely had time to get used to being safe because it's gone now and even if it wasn't, it was always fucked. You think if I fell off from here and splattered on the ground, Aurora'd bring me back in one piece? Except you're right, I'm not a quitter. I can't just let go of crap, and maybe that's my whole problem.
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He waits until it's clear that Keller is done and... scoffs quietly.]
Guy without hands can't let go. That's a hell of a punchline.
[Quentin gestures vaguely at the area of the roof near his spot without looking up.]
Come on, asshole. Sit. If you're gonna angst, might as well not be by yourself.
[And since there's no point in waiting for Julian to actually decide to sit down or just linger weirdly around, Quentin continues talking as though he will sit down. He's been on the opposite end of this enough times to know how excruciating it is when somebody brings too much attention to your avoidant bullshit.]
Okay, real talk? You asked me what I wanted. With, you know, this whole... whatever.
[He clears his throat and absently adjusts his glasses before looking at his hand and placing it and the other in his lap.]
Here's another one for you: guy who can't touch anything and a guy who feels every godforsaken thinking life form on the planet walk into a bar. I wanted... I dunno, I can't fix anything. I know that. But, I mean. I feel everything, dude. The one damn time our stupid ironic bullshit actually lines up, and I just... I wanted to help. Somehow. That's all.
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he hesitates for several long moments, but does end up giving in and walking himself over to where quentin has settled so he can drop down to the rooftop with a good arm's length between them still, heel of one foot pressed to the ground so he can rest his forearm against his knee. listens, because that's what this whole bullshit is about - right? listening. trying to find some kind of middle ground because they do keep starting fights over fucking - nothing. )
I don't want your feelings. I don't want to feel crap from your perspective. From using your abilities. ( he knows quentin feels - well. everything. if he wanted to, he could tap into julian's head, feel everything he feels, really get it. but that's not the point. and he knows quentin gets that, too. ) I wanted to be free. Thought if I went through Crucible and came back, I'd finally get that. To not feel so fucking - tied down by all the bullcrap of before. I was holding onto that like it was the only hope I had of fixing anything, and now? I don't know, man.
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