You aren’t even sure you’re serious when you bring it up.
“D-dave?” You place one hand on the back of the futon. “I… I think I need to leave for a while.”
This is probably a test, actually. You’re testing him, hoping desperately that he will put down the remote to that shitty game he plays, and teases you about when you try it and end up stuck in walls. Hoping that he will maybe turn his head to look at you. Hoping he’ll at least grunt or something to acknowledge that you’ve spoken and he’s hearing you, even if he isn’t really listening. You tilt your head to the side, and watch your fingers as you very much intentionally punch a tiny hole in the futon with one of your claws.
“I just… It kind of seems like I’m, uhh—” you falter, and chastise yourself for it silently, “It kind of seems like you only pay attention to me when you want…”
Abruptly you realize that your throat is closing up, and you clear it softly, shifting from one foot to the other where you stand. The sounds coming from the game Dave is playing seem kind of deafening to you when you stop talking. Instead of looking at Dave or the tv, though, you keep your eyes trained on your fingers, because if you look up at him again and he’s not looking back, you might actually have to leave. You square your shoulders a little.
“Dave, I just need to know that you care about me.” You didn’t stammer or anything! Rufio would be so proud. “That you want me around for more than just a way to pass the time!”
You startle at the way your voice raised, and your face begins to warm. Quickly, your raise your hand to stroke one of your cheeks as if that’ll alleviate your embarrassment. Sure you shouted a little, but you think you feel kind of good about it! You’re making your feelings known, instead of being silent and accepting, which is good, right? Maybe so, but you still don’t raise your eyes to look at him.
You do wait expectantly, however. Wait for him to speak. Patiently. For the moment when he will say something.
The silence stretches uncomfortably, and suddenly it isn’t some test, and you’re very serious and you need him to speak to you, because even if you are dead, you’re not something worthless to sit around and be used for the amusement of others!
“Dave?” Your voice comes out more pleadingly than you intended. It makes your whole face burn, and you feel tears stinging your eyes. You ball your hands into fists and finally look at the seated human. From where you’re standing, you can see him in profile. He’s still staring straight ahead at the television, despite that his game character has glitched itself into a rail.His face is blank, and he’s sitting stock still. You think you see him blink.
“Please say something.” Your voice is quiet, flat. Dave drops his head almost imperceptibly, as if he’s looking at the controller in his hands, but he doesn’t speak. “You don’t… you don’t think I’ll go? Because I will.”
You try to clear your constricting throat again, but the noise that comes out is more like a soft sob. You clear your throat more loudly to cover it. Almost threateningly (at least, you think so), you take a couple of steps backwards toward the door.
He does look, then, head turning slightly in your direction. ‘Stop me,’ you will him silently. ‘Stop me.’
“I can’t keep staying here if, uhh,” you begin, voice still quiet as you cast your eyes down again, “if that’s all you want from me.”
Your blood pusher is aching in the worst way, and it gets no better when you realize that you’ve already decided that you’re going. You won’t seperate your bubble from his, not immediately. But you’re definantly leaving the apartment. Otherwise, he won’t take you seriously, something you know from experience.
Dave stands slowly, walks toward you, and you raise both of your hands.
“No,” you say simply. He stops, standing a few feet from you. When you glance up at him, you see that his expression has tightened ever so slightly, though it remains largely neutral.
The last time you’d pressed Dave on this subject, he’d kissed you. Like nothing. No words, really, just kissed you, and before you’d thought about it, he’d had you over a pail. After that, he’d gone back to mostly ignoring you.
You aren’t going to let that happen a second time.
“Just say something. Tell me you want me to stay. Tell me things can be different, and I-I’ll stay.”
Abruptly you realize that you’re begging. You may not think highly of yourself, and maybe others don’t think very highly of you either, but you and Rufio both are pretty convinced that begging is beneath you. That begging is pathetic, and it is not something you’re willing to do, not for something like this. You understand it, but it doesn’t make the hurt lessen any.
“O-okay,” you say, more to yourself than to Dave, who you refuse to look at again. “Okay. I’m going back to my hive.”
You brought nothing with you, so there’s nothing for you to take. Dave wants nothing from you, so there’s no reason for you to stay. You turn, and are out the door as quickly as you can manage, tears streaming down your face.