A brow rose as Sullivan’s story progressed. John didn’t understand what ‘some boyfriend’ had to do with him. Yes, perhaps he didn’t have the dark tortured past to prove himself a strong individual, but he has walked on a sharper edge of life. He was twenty-seven years old and for that many years he had looked into the face of the world. He had seen the good and the bad and the ugly. How else could he then so calmly regard murder committed before his very eyes? No, John couldn’t understand how Sullivan could ever compare him to some one else. Did he say a minute ago that the two shared more similarities than John cared to admit? Didn’t then, following that logic, John would be open minded to whatever happened with this mysterious ‘Z’ person? He knew death and tragedy and pain, so why then oh why was Sullivan so determinate to belittle his experiences as a human being? John didn’t know, but he craved to know the reason. He craved it so that his confusion grew into an angry orange bitterness before words left his lips. “ I don’t care what happened before and if you never tell me I’ll never ask it of you. Don’t you see? We’ve been given an opportunity to forget the past. We can live new lives in each other’s eyes without really lieing,” John said with breathlessness of an idealist. “Sullivan, I’m not just some random guy, sheltered all his life. Maybe my life wasn’t as….revealing as yours, but I’m sure that I can handle anything you can tell about yourself. I’ll be a bloody hypocrite if I think less of you.” The little outburst drew to an end, leaving John ready for some good-natured bashing. He wasn’t a romantic but sometimes he was an idealist. And that idealist in John Lavington wanted more than anything to discard the false fears from the universe they managed to create.
The other’s strong grip was a surprise, but Lavington held his gaze, unwavering. He saw anger in those sapphire eyes, anger which perhaps he really did deserve. But he daren’t think of himself in the wrong. He was right. He must be right because he didn’t want to believe that he was a monster in making. “Understood,” he answered back, with his light gray eyes still focused on Sullivan. John was unwilling to let it go like that, but feared a conflict. This was such a nice time. It didn’t deserve to be broken by meaningless confrontations. Instead he turned to the matter of the movie, pondering on it in attempt to block out any other involuntary thoughts. “No, I’m good. I’d rather not watch a romantic comedy,” the man confessed, shrugging. There the anger was gone and John was glad of it. “Unless, of course, you’re up for listening to me complain for an hour.” He smirked.
The other’s strong grip was a surprise, but Lavington held his gaze, unwavering. He saw anger in those sapphire eyes, anger which perhaps he really did deserve. But he daren’t think of himself in the wrong. He was right. He must be right because he didn’t want to believe that he was a monster in making. “Understood,” he answered back, with his light gray eyes still focused on Sullivan. John was unwilling to let it go like that, but feared a conflict. This was such a nice time. It didn’t deserve to be broken by meaningless confrontations. Instead he turned to the matter of the movie, pondering on it in attempt to block out any other involuntary thoughts. “No, I’m good. I’d rather not watch a romantic comedy,” the man confessed, shrugging. There the anger was gone and John was glad of it. “Unless, of course, you’re up for listening to me complain for an hour.” He smirked.