This probably takes place a month or two after my last one for him (The Piercing/The Aftermath). It’s a pretty typical one of their fights, actually. Not one of the extreme ones, not one of the mild ones.

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A little on Revan’s past: Argument

Revan, age 15

Nao(brother), age 32 (deceased at 28)

Trisha(sister-in-law), age 31

Lena(niece), age 10 (deceased at 9)

Graci(mother), age 52

Adrian(father), age 54 (deceased at 45)

Monta(boyfriend), age 16

*~*~*~*

Revan sat against the wall, curled up and with his phone beside him on the ground, trying to muffle his crying. He’d prefer if no one knew, he’d prefer if he didn’t have to talk to Tris or his mother, he’d prefer if he’d decided not to steal his mother’s card for the hundredth time in order to rent a room at the same hotel he always did. But he never got his way, so of course Monta had managed to stay up to date and actually come as promised last week.

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He heard when Monty walked in, heard as the door was closed and he’d begun to speak only to stop as soon as he’d begun. And then start back up, slowly making his way towards him. “A-Are you crying, Rev..?”

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He curled more, trying to get the tears to stop. Trying to get his voice to work. He managed only half of the second one, his voice breaking. “No.”

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And like that, Monty was rushing over, “Oh shit- You are. What happened, Rev?”

-

Shame bit at him, guilt burned. And anger boiled over. It must’ve, because Revan was pushing his boyfriend away, raising his head as he did so and snapping out, “I-I’m not crying! I don’t cry! So go away, Monty! Nothing happened!”

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And Monta looked at him, staring at him, his skin prickled under the gaze. And even with the tears still flowing down his face, he held the gaze. Because why couldn’t Monty just let it go, let him pretend he wasn’t as weak and pathetic as Revan himself knew he was. “You’re literally crying right now, like- What the fuck did I do? But sure! Whatever! Revan doesn’t cry! My bad! You must be getting real good at make-up then because I could’ve sworn I saw tears! In fact, I think I still do!”

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As if to prove a point, Monta flicked at the watery tears. “Oh, would you look at that! Those are tears!”

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Revan shoved him back, pushing himself to his feet. “Do you ever shut up?!”

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Monta was going to a stand too though, “What? You don’t want to hear the fucking truth?”

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He gritted his teeth, “As if you can talk!”

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“Not as bad as you! Mr. ‘Can we pretend there aren’t bloody scabs on my arms?’! At least I don’t fucking cut myself up thinking my boyfriend won’t care!”

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Revan’s fists clenched, he couldn’t do this right now. Explaining took too long. Instead, he shifted backwards, snarling. “You don’t fucking eat! How’s that any better?! You’re just as fucking pathetic!”

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“At least I’m honest! At least I don’t cover up fucking bruises!”

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And as if to try and go prove his point, Monta was grabbing his collar and pulling him over. So he shoved him away, backing up again, “Fuck you! You’re still worse! You know you are! You’re a fucking worthless brat!”

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“Says the one who got three people fucking killed over an eight year period! If anyone here is worthless- It’s you! And that’s the bare minimum of what you are!”

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And Revan froze, the air was still, his throat was tight. And he, as he so often did in these, exploded. “I’m well-fucking-aware! I bet you all would just love if I was wiped clean off the face of the earth! Unable to stain anyone anymore!” His voice broke, he continued. “Fuck- Go fucking kill yourself! See if I care! We can do it together even! Perfect fucking ending, right?!”

-

Somewhere, through his own tears, he could see that Monty had started to cry by now too. He didn’t care, he couldn’t care. “And hey- No one would care! Who would?! We’re a pair of useless, worthless, pieces of shit stains—” He gasped in a breath, “That don’t deserve to live- Doing everyone a damn favor, right?!”

-

He breathed heavily, shaking, trembling… He felt an arm wrap around him, a hand pushing his chin up to look at Monta. Revan did, and was greeted with a harsh kiss. The agreement of a stalemate as he kissed back. And then the taking back of it as he pushed away, and practically ran out of the hotel room. Out of the hotel. He didn’t know where he was going, but he needed to get away. He needed to leave. He needed to just cut Monty out of his mess of a life… He still knew he’d go back, he was the only freedom he had from that fucking house.