[ if marcus knew more about phones, he'd be changing billy's name to tetanus dick in his contacts right now. as it is, he just rolls his eyes, still not cheerful or confident enough in where he is and what they're doing to react to all the jokes and the familiar touches with anything other than his typical teenage detachment. he doesn't pull away when billy slings his arm around his shoulders, and actually leans into it, in his own subtle way. he lowers his head, keeps his eyes on the ground, and silently lets billy take him home.
he doesn't know what to say about being fucked up upstairs. doesn't know how to read billy's response, seeing as it's shy of a ringing endorsement for what they're about to do without fully distancing himself from the prospect. all marcus does is walk.
they get to billy's dorm room, the conversation having died off somewhere between the park and here, far more due to marcus than to billy. he's dead silent until they're inside the building, with marcus only delaying the trip upstairs by popping back into his own room before they get there, just to double-check his stash, make sure his roommate hasn't raided it. he grabs a baggie of weed from his top drawer, more out of consideration for billy in case he needs to settle his nerves than out of any persistent desire to relax himself. he heads upstairs, slapping the plastic against his palm and closing the door behind him, smiling distractedly at billy as he drops onto his bed. ]
Nice place. Cozy. Your water stains are prettier than mine, but - that could just be a rorschach thing. All my walls look like my mother leaving me.
[ a joke. kind of. a joke based off of a real thing he saw in the stain above his bunk, staring down at him from musty, poorly insulated heaven. marcus kicks out his legs and grips the edge of billy's bed, staring up at him with cautious eyes like he's waiting for some other shoe to drop and for this entire - whatever it is - to fall apart. he's trying to keep everything casual, trying to keep everything normal, but there are a dozen things going through his mind that he doesn't know how to unravel. how to dissect.
marcus lifts one hand to his mouth, speaking against it as he drags his palm down his chin, dramatically tired. he's already cringing at what he's about to say, but with the guilt he feels in not telling billy the entire truth behind what this is - an experiment, of sorts, to see if doing this with guys is even something he's capable of, as well as some selfish, shitty way to tie billy to him if he's interested in marcus's proposal, a way to tether someone from home to him through this need the city is forcing them to have - he feels he should at least karmically realign himself by offering some vulnerability. ]
... I'd never been laid before I came here. So, uh - christ, how do I say this - don't feel intimidated?
[ ugh. marcus winces, then just - gestures at himself vaguely, as if that explains why. ]
Couldn't have guessed, right? With a face like this.
no subject
he doesn't know what to say about being fucked up upstairs. doesn't know how to read billy's response, seeing as it's shy of a ringing endorsement for what they're about to do without fully distancing himself from the prospect. all marcus does is walk.
they get to billy's dorm room, the conversation having died off somewhere between the park and here, far more due to marcus than to billy. he's dead silent until they're inside the building, with marcus only delaying the trip upstairs by popping back into his own room before they get there, just to double-check his stash, make sure his roommate hasn't raided it. he grabs a baggie of weed from his top drawer, more out of consideration for billy in case he needs to settle his nerves than out of any persistent desire to relax himself. he heads upstairs, slapping the plastic against his palm and closing the door behind him, smiling distractedly at billy as he drops onto his bed. ]
Nice place. Cozy. Your water stains are prettier than mine, but - that could just be a rorschach thing. All my walls look like my mother leaving me.
[ a joke. kind of. a joke based off of a real thing he saw in the stain above his bunk, staring down at him from musty, poorly insulated heaven. marcus kicks out his legs and grips the edge of billy's bed, staring up at him with cautious eyes like he's waiting for some other shoe to drop and for this entire - whatever it is - to fall apart. he's trying to keep everything casual, trying to keep everything normal, but there are a dozen things going through his mind that he doesn't know how to unravel. how to dissect.
marcus lifts one hand to his mouth, speaking against it as he drags his palm down his chin, dramatically tired. he's already cringing at what he's about to say, but with the guilt he feels in not telling billy the entire truth behind what this is - an experiment, of sorts, to see if doing this with guys is even something he's capable of, as well as some selfish, shitty way to tie billy to him if he's interested in marcus's proposal, a way to tether someone from home to him through this need the city is forcing them to have - he feels he should at least karmically realign himself by offering some vulnerability. ]
... I'd never been laid before I came here. So, uh - christ, how do I say this - don't feel intimidated?
[ ugh. marcus winces, then just - gestures at himself vaguely, as if that explains why. ]
Couldn't have guessed, right? With a face like this.