forum A shitty motel is the perfect place for shitty emotions. || OxO || Closed!

Started April 22, 2021 by Deleted user

tune

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“Yeah, keep thinking like that and die alone without anyone who fucking loves you. What do I care.” Finn scoffed. “Have fun with that, dick.” With that, he turned on his heel and made to leave, stomping down the stairs.

Waylen watched him go, shaking his head a little and heading back into his room. He wasn't hungry, and he didn't really feel like going anywhere. He closed the door, sitting down on the bed and curling into himself.

Making his way down the sidewalk, Finn stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked as quickly as he could. …Why had he said any of that? He hadn’t meant most of it. He wanted to apologize as soon as he saw that look on Waylen’s face, but of course the man couldn’t show any emotion towards him other than anger. Maybe that was it? He didn’t know anymore. He arrived at the small joint in record time, only realizing when he came to a stop that he was nearly out of breath. How fast had he been going?

He wondered, distantly, what was wrong with him. What had gone wrong inside that made him like this. The suicide attempt? The week he had spent as a child, terrified and afraid, because of his own father? He shook his head. He had wilted into himself, but couldn't cry. He closed his eyes, though no tears were surfacing. He was just…empty. Really fucking empty. He always was and if he sought comfort for that in the arms of strangers, so what? So what? It wasn't any of Finn's business.

He caught his breath and ordered food, eating quickly. He was lost in thought the entire time, watching cars pass on the road outside. He knew he was in the wrong. He didn’t want to be on such terrible terms with Waylen, but it was just so hard to try and fix things when the man was so set in his ways. He finished his food, continuing to sit around aimlessly for a few minutes before beginning the trudge back up the road to the motel. Stepping into his room, he sighed heavily. He had to be the bigger person here, god knows Waylen wasn’t going to be. Reluctantly and still somewhat upset about it, he pulled out a pen and his receipt from breakfast.

(bro it's physically impossible for Waylen to be the biggest person lmao)

Waylen was just laying on his bed, eyes closed but not asleep. All he could hear was Finn's words echoing around in his head, even though he tried not to think about it. "God only knows the last time someone loved you". He took a deep breath, shaking his head a little bit. Yeah. God only knew.

(lmfao-)

After a few minutes of staring blankly at the empty side of the paper, Finn finally settled on something plain and simple. He wrote out the words as neatly as he could, knowing his usual handwriting was far from good. He didn’t give himself time to think about it, knowing he’d second-guess himself like crazy if he did. Grabbing his laundry as well, he headed out the door. He tucked the small piece of paper, reading ‘I’m sorry’, into the mail slot before heading down the stairs to throw his clothes in the wash.

Waylen shifted when he heard the mail slot open and close, but he didn't get up. He didn't feel like it right now. Eventually, he did get up, he padded over and read the note. He shrugged faintly, setting it aside and sitting down again. The apology didn't really help. Finn had still meant what he said.

Finn just sat and waited for his clothes to finish, scrolling through his phone aimlessly when he got bored watching them spin in circles. He sat there for maybe an hour and a half, cutting both the washing and drying of his clothes short. He didn’t want to be sitting there all day, but he didn’t exactly trust the people around so much that he’d just leave his clothes and head back up. Eventually, though, he headed back up to his room with his hamper of clean clothes.

Waylen had eventually begun to play his guitar, not singing along, just slowly plucking the strings in a soft, melancholic manner. It scared him sometimes, how little he seemed to actually feel. But it didnt matter, did it?

Finn carefully balanced the hamper on his hip as he entered his room again, organizing his clothes back into tidy stacks in the dresser. In the near complete silence of the motel, he could hear music from next door loud and clear. He still felt bad listening in like this, even more so now that he knew it was Waylen next door, but the walls were only so thick.

Waylen kept playing, plucking at the strings of his guitar. He didn't sing still, just bent over the guitar, fingers lightly caressing the strings. His guitar was the closest thing, maybe, that he had to a friend or family. His siblings didn't count; Hannah only barely kept in contact with him.

He didn’t listen much longer, figuring that Waylen deserved a sort of privacy in his self-expression. He slipped in his earbuds and picked a random podcast to listen to while he finished sorting his clothes. He vaguely hoped in the back of his mind that the man next door was finally figuring some things out.

(timeskip?)

Maybe this was so bad because he hadn't been doing his therapy sessions; he'd forgotten, not wanting to just call his therapist and talk to her. It didn't matter, though. It didn't. He was fine. "I’m sure it’s very fun for you to never have anyone that genuinely cares about you.". He swallowed faintly.