If I'd thought the tension in the car was bad, this is about a hundred times worse. Apparently telling him I missed him wasn't a good enough reason to have picked him up. And to be honest, I'm beginning to wish I'd left him to cool off in the holding cell overnight.
"I dunno what you want me to say, or do, Cay," I sigh, resuming my position at the end of the sofa, hugging my knees. I turn so I'm leaning on the arm of the sofa instead, facing him, watching as he bites his lip for probably the millionth time since I picked him up.
"Max... This might make things worse but... From what your mom was saying it just sounds like there's been a huge misunderstanding..." Can the guy not make up his mind if he's pissed off or something? I just frown, tempted to tell him that there was no misunderstanding at all and that I was going to go to bed. But I hold my tongue and stay where I am, waiting to hear what this apparent ‘misunderstanding' is.
"I need to... Tell me what happened. Exactly what happened." My frown doesn't lift. I open my mouth to say something and the question "why?" is all that falls out. Hello. Brain to mouth, brain to mouth. Stop saying stupid things without thinking about it. Why else would he wanna fucking know? "Because you and your folks need to sort this out. Or at least you and your mom. Man, I thought me and Hads had some fucked up shit going on..." I feel my lips curve up in a wry smile, and it's definitely not a smile that reaches my eyes, or indeed any other part of my face.
"I don't know what misunderstanding you're talking about. I said I was all but disowned, and that's what happened," I shrug slightly, "I don't know what else you want me to say about it." Okay, so I've glossed over a few points, but I don't understand why he doesn't get that I just want to let it all be forgotten. I mean, a barely-existent home life on top of being constantly beaten up or taunted isn't really something anyone would want to remember, is it?
"Max..." Cay says with this disappointed look on his face. Normally his disappointed face would make me feel guilty about something or bad. This time, it just makes me want to hit something. What happened to being as violent as Ghandi, eh? I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to calm my thoughts before they go flying out of control.
"What?" I ask flatly, looking him right in the eye.
"I just..." he sighs. "If you don't want to tell me, fine. But I will go to your mom to find out if I have to." I try not to scowl.
"Why d'you want to know so bad, Cay?" I mutter, almost under my breath. What's the big deal about it? It can't be because he wants to know me better - no one would be stupid enough to push this hard, would they?
"I'm curious," he tells me. Oh, okay. Apparently they would be.
"Fine," I growl, "where d'you want me to begin, then?"