There was no other way to deal with this than to pull the smartass move. And by smartass move there was only one way to handle being a dick on the pitch. Especially when it just so happened to occur in the middle of a deeper though still equally immature dispute between the instigator and the victim of said dick move. As Dirk exited the field with his pride in his throat and his arms crossed across his chest, he knew damn well who was behind him. To be blunt, it was the easiest way of setting aside what the hell just happened back there.

The guy was so on his ass, alright? It’s not like Dirk had been focused on Jake English being in his blind spot. It’s not like he was keeping an eye on him, especially as a Seeker. How was he to know?

Just kidding. That was basically his first dick move after his initially stupid choice to swerve and purposefully elbow Jake mid-chase. The second one was not admitting to the fact that it was downright his fault. And then ignoring the situation, of course. But seriously, Jake was in his blindstop, so the blame could not be taken entirey. After not flying for so long with the amount he had on his mind, keeping his cool during practice was a strain, and Jake, unfortunately, stood as the first straw to his problems and his last, leading into the physical foul. It wasn’t the best excuse, but it was the truth. In this case, the smartass move was a lot more credible than the truth though it still did not prepare the Strider for the harsh jab into the wing of his shoulder.

Almost immediately after the Jake sirens go off, Dirk’s eyes roll to the corners of his sight with annoyance. He but attempted to piece his bickering which, realistically, was well deserved, but to no avail. Instead of amplifying the debate and bickering against him at the same time, he watches Jake’s wide, frustrated gestures from over his shoulder before turning around completely. The blond takes a few casual steps backwards in attempts to go indoors before coming to a complete grounded stop once he’d finally realize that they were about to argue yet again and it was to happen right here. They’d be here for a while, without a doubt. Wonderful.

At this point, Dirk wasn’t thinking about his relationship with the dark-haired teen. Opposing that, he wasn’t necessarily angry either. Moreso irritated, that feeling broiling more and more as the same harsh tone from their initial argument yielded it’s face into this one. “Gee mom!” He shrugged his shoulders in what looked like sarcastic defense. “I didn’t see you there as you were not completely out of my vision as I was flying for some strange self-satisfactory reason. You’ll have to understand, it was an accident that I, wow, I actually don’t care for.” He mutters, deadpanned.

“The fuck were you trying to accomplish back there, riding up my ass?” His emphasis clung heavily to his swears. These were not so deadpanned. “We have the plague of the road right here, mom! What else can I get for you, mom?” He added mouth to the poison thick against his lips. “Some sort of lower award to possibly fucking stoop to? Another way to cause trouble featuring Jake English? Fucking take me sideways through whatever turnip truck’s blowing through town, have you any decency?” Dirk was beginning to vocalize into dangerous levels of hurt with words holding deeper meaning besides the incident. “Because I can say right now that you, my dearest friend, have declared yourself thoroughly useless.” The venomous words tore silence into the air. “I don’t even fucking know who you are anymore, English.”

And it was true. This tone wasn’t Jake’s. And Dirk’s, well it probably wasn't his own either. Shit took a turn rather quickly for the worse, and Dirk had no idea what kind of actual sick shit was spewing past his lips.

All he knew was that they held some pressure points against the shorter male, and that was all he was focused on at the moment
Well, it would have been, had he not cracked. It had happened, yes. It was the one thing he dreaded, but at the end of his words did a crinkle rake through his voice. It was a hint of morality being restored into what Dirk was spitting, and he didn't like it. In retaliation, once he’d caught it, Dirk stayed solid on his word, biting his lower lip to keep his ground, a deep exhale activating every part of his diaphragm as he seethed more or less. With his broom in his fist and a furrowed brow, he clenched his goggles and wrinkled his nose in annoyance to, what sounded like a snort, and to push his spectacles up his nose.  His stare was trained on the other and completely set in stone.  This was such bullshit and Dirk was serving it up on a silver fucking platter.

The blond had dropped his guard in that moment of his significant other’s demonstration of weakness. His lips parted in what could only be described as shock from Jake’s voice crumbling into tears. Being in the position he was, he was given no option but to stand where he did, left to question just what he was trying to prove and what they were actually arguing about. This sight…pulling the other into tears wasn’t what Dirk had aimed for. Was it? Why was he saying this to the one he held dearest? They’re in an argument; Dirk should not be allowing himself to become shredded by the mere sight of Jake succumbing to this. The fact that Dirk had the power to bring him down to this and, yes, Jake probably held the same power against him, the fact that they had such trust in each other once and that it was all being used strictly in vain was strange. Sad, really. At least, it would have been back then. They’d never gotten into a real argument up until last year.

Dirk watched Jake’s face warp in restriction of the tears he stifled away behind his own pride. And he too watched the teen’s fingers, long and clumsy, claw up in waves of anger; then ball into fists to scrub at his eyes. And he watched him suck in a breath of repulsion to keep his emotions at bay. How dearly did he want to take what he said back, how he yearned him in his arms. And yet, watching from the sidelines of Jake’s life was the only thing the blond could do, because slowly, he begun to recall every single reason why he’d fallen for him. There was no denying himself of this This was Dirk’s weakness, right in front of his eyes. And slowly, every single last one of his regrets resurrected and surfaced all the while. It was suffocating. Dirk was frozen. The intermission of their argument, this silence they had taken upon themselves, it was purely damaging. Because they were one in the same when it came to hurting each other.
This was hard to watch.

Please, Jake, please don’t cry. Anything but that.

…

…I’m so sorry.

For this, and for what I’m about to say.

Unconsciously, he took a small step forwards towards the dark haired male, but retracted when a weak though forced ‘fuck’ drippled past Jake’s lips. And he was quiet for those same few destructive moments, allowing his heart to melt into the pain that he deserved. Dirk wasn’t ready to kick him while he was down.


In all reality, why was he still here?
Dirk confidently reproached the shorter male with a whole new mindset and a fiery tongue, fearlessly searching Jake’s face with firm aggression. “If you can recall through that dense fucking head of yours, even slightly, past all of your heartless accusations and bullcrap, recall what we fucking had, possibly then you would be able to understand why I am here; you fucking. Imbecile.” Dirk snarled, though he kept his cool. He would not allow himself the possibility, no, the privilege, to crack. That just wasn’t how he was going to go down.

Once again, his morals were put aside and he focused on the present rather than what resided behind these fake words of his. “If you’re able to register it thoroughly or not, I, this apparent stone fr—“ he gestured defensively with his hands with a short but disgusted laugh, “-friend of yours, am still a firm believer of what the four of us created before, fuck, before we were hardly teens, all the way up to this point.” He hadn’t realized he was allowing himself less space between Jake and himself, taking slow strides towards him as he spoke. He kept his voice at an assertive volume but it did not fluctuate from his usual tone. “You really can’t fucking recall, can you? Did any of it mean anything to you in the slightest?”
A moment.
“Of course it didn’t.” He’d found himself practically peering down with eyes kept painfully numb. There was nothing in Dirk’s face for Jake to react to. He’d become too good at this from over his summer when he was left to himself.

An eyebrow was pricked slightly upwards when he’d begun his definition of decency. He begins to speak downwards and immaturely against him, “I never thought I’d get the shmeil about decency from the one who has no limit whatsoever. There will never be enough out there for you to hurt, English. How quickly you turn on those that actually give a shit about you, to make them the equivalent of an enemy.” He scoffs once Jake pauses, as he was nowhere near done. “It’s manipulative. It’s honestly disgusting--.”

And he went on against his ex-friend for the short meanwhile. It was until the word tore whatever he had to say out from his throat.
Abandoned.
Useless.
…What?
The corners of his lips quivered downwards. His brow furrowed. His hands loosened from their clammy fists; enough to drop his goggles. The words were strong enough to sound off the volumes of loud sorrow in his mind and silence the Strider all the while. Small signs of emotion shined through as he held onto the threatening moment of eye-contact with the other. At that point there was no second Jake that Dirk was arguing with. Right then and there, he knew he was speaking to the one he kept closest to his heart. Yes, he was right in front of him, and, yes, his face was brimming with pain and anger, and yes, it was all of his goddamn fault.

And yes, he was beautiful.

He’d almost forgotten his reason here and his way in the heat of false anger. Dirk’s eyes softened considerably, glistening kindly as he peered rather lovingly into Jake’s own watering ones. The ticking of time rung slower. Everything was okay for the short meanwhile.

Before he could count on it though, Jake was off, and Dirk’s face hardened all over again. Fuck, no, please. Swiftly, he made an attempt to turn a heel and catch him by the shoulder, but his fingers had just grazed his back. With a sharp inhale as he needed all of the strength he could muster, he stormed right after him, picking his pace to just barely grab him firmly by the shoulder with his free hand. There was no way in hell he’d be leaving just yet.

“A whole fucking summer of static after the stunts pulled and you decide to wimp out yet again on discussing what the fuck is going on, tail between your legs and all?! I don’t fucking think so, buster.” Something different was in order, here. A renewed voice came spilling past his lips, one with undertones of emotion and the need for him to stay, angered all the while. Not to forget that it was becoming ill with an Irish sound as, if one were to know the Strider’s, they’d understand that with the Irish comes the intense. With a firm grasp, he spun Jake around and, dropping his broom, clasped his other shoulder to level himself with Jake completely. He hadn’t realized just how initiated his grip was on his shoulders. He was desperate and angry and was actually feeling very real and open emotion for whatever the fuck was happening right now, even if these emotions had only surrounded the negative feeling in his gut. His stare was practically piercing straight through Jake, intense and severe. He breathes, cooling off and back into his normal self. “The bullshit said from last year up until now probably deserves a classic, quality, 10-paged English explanation at this point, but I don’t care. Right now, I need something.” He is level and drained of the fierceness from a few minutes ago. “I will not and do not plan to give up on you, so you better start sorting through your excuses now.”

Jake’s initial reaction is the same as Dirk’s. Except the Strider, seeing his friend speechless, actually sparks a figment of hope for the idea that he may have possibly said something right and they could at least speak rather than argue. Sadly, this fleeting moment of hope is suspended in the air between them for only that exact moment until things begun to click for one of them.

It all happened very quickly. Dirk watched the dark-haired teen promptly unravel himself and then…

And then what? Really, it all happened in the matter of seconds. Before he could count on it, his vision was untinted. That was probably the first thing that he noticed. The sound of a rattling harsh strike against skin was absolutely gutting, the feeling worsening with continuous reverberation. But nothing clicked yet. The blond stumbled backwards weakly into empty space for whatever reason, everything jumbling before his eyes. Realization hit first, then the pain from the actual hit followed suit. Dirk’s eyes went wide, and a strong, burning sting was targeted painfully onto his cheek. What happened finally registered.

This was all caused by him.

A stifled sob that is not his own catches his ear with a sonorous awakening and a breath catches in his throat. In fact, there is nothing and everything going through his mind as he silently touches his reddening cheek, eyes turned away and down in what can only be conveyed as simply shame and regret. There was no kindling anger in his eyes. There was never true anger in them, but this time, there is no light captured in his expression either. He felt incredibly weightless as he did not focus a single ounce of feeling on himself. Dirk turned his sincerity and his whole self numbly over to Jake, letting himself go as the voice dear to him raged on with the truth. His brow knit in a sharp pain before his whole face shut down, eyes fluttering to a close as he listened with his vision averted downwards and away.

No one asked him to put these walls up. High above his head did he barricade himself inwards. No one asked him to take them down either, but that was exactly what he was doing right now. Brick by brick, strike after painstaking verbal strike, Dirk humbly accepted the shattering harm of each bullet as they perforated his entirety in a violent, bursting rapid fire. This was on him, and he allowed his lungs to slowly collapse with air as he digested Jake’s meaning. This, this is what he had caused.

Of course in the midst of an argument would he target the blame on Jake when in reality, this was caused by many scattered reasons, each acting as a single leech latched onto delicate heartstrings that have always been kept behind bars from everyone else. The vitriolic, poisonous truth spewed in enormous eruptions of molten pain that burned holes through whatever Dirk was holding onto and left him hollowed for the space Jake’s words needed so they may bounce off the walls of himself and echo with the beating muscle keeping him kicking. This was all, all, caused by him. Anything that had him motivated enough to hurt the English was crumbling, smoking into the air, into absolute nothingness. In the rubble of his mind laid the slain but surviving motivation of his initial hate. He hated himself for doing this. What was once dry and deserted in his heart was now caring for what seemed like the great Atlantic being born, pouring in and spreading wide in his thoughts.

Everything he’d said contradicted itself and nothing made sense and everything hurt and before he could catch himself, Dirk had lost himself in the fiery toxins embedded in each panged syllable from a voice still so warm to him, these toxins forming into thick storm clouds spitting their maiming truth. This, this was the truth, hard and cold and it was tearing him apart.
As cold as it was though, with as much damage as Jake could deserving kick into him, it could never push the blond into leaving, as this voice still had such a greater meaning to him. That in itself was what made things so, so much more painful. His whole world was quietly given to the raving man in front of him long ago and after years of it collecting memories of the good and bad, it was now being torn apart.

This was what he had caused.

Dirk hadn’t realized that the hand on his cheek was now webbed with the hairs being pulled in frustration against his scalp. He was slouched over slightly with vision hidden behind fallen bangs. It was when Jake paused to punctuate what sounded like him cooling off with a flustered yell as he confessed wanting no more of him. Bare eyes blew wide, genuine hurt washing over his face. It was a stab to the chest. Hushed hiccups fill the now silent outdoors, and the blond takes this free moment to process. And process. Was that all? Jake couldn’t leave, please, not now. Not yet.

He wished he could fill the silence with something, anything really, but nothing was ready to be verbally said on his part. For once, the Strider was left agape. There was no possible way he couldn’t have been after what had been said. The words he dreaded with his life were uttered. Had he opened his mouth, violent, icy waters would have billow past his lips. The inner flooding finally reached a height higher than his efforts could ever vine up towards. This war was at its brim, even if the bullets did come to a seemingly peaceful stop for the meanwhile. He couldn’t do this. He needed Jake.

He’d no idea how simple it would be to place the final needle on the camel’s back with a simple sentence. No, he didn’t even realize that his limit, though it was beyond his grasp at this point, was actually reached. All because of those words.

To not be wanted in his life anymore.

…

Something surreal was happening.

It was damp. Unfamiliar. Warm, and prickling on his reddening cheeks. It traced the circles below his bottom lashes, trailing down his tear-ducks and soon met the palms shamefully covering his face. The pain painted onto his expression twisted into pure vexation and visible, extreme frustration.

Tears.

This was it. It marked the peak of the raging war with himself and a genesis of truthfulness for the other. It was the one thing stronger than the enemy that was indeed himself, something that finally, shockingly so easily, swept him off of his feet and into a state of lowly weakness. It was practical defeat. It had not happened in years

The floodgates were opened.

A choked sob of his own, one that rung lowly and in a broken inhale all the while staying childlike and foreign on his tongue, was unwillingly forced from his throat. Tears were spilling. And then silence.

No…no he couldn’t be crying. This was the absolute last thing he attempted to fucking stopped himself from, the last thing that kept his gushing feelings at a halt, and yet he unwillingly continues to spill his heart from watering eyes. The tears streamed down his nose and rolled between clenched fingers, like a drought upon deserted lands. Dirk’s emotions, alien to him, were watered and given life all the while as light orbs continued to drain. Quietly, he did so as well. Hard, he pressed his palms discordantly against his eye sockets that were failing him with a sharp, reluctant breath showing his weakness. Dirk scrubbed at his eyes and his face and smeared the tears as if scraping away his layers of warpaint and pain in a concealed manner and small movements. His expectations and limits were unmarkably sky-high, making this stream seemingly endless and the roots of his tears date back, all the way from the nights he spent in complete numbness to the mornings he dreaded anything but his bed. He’d strip the need for tears away from his options long ago. This shouldn’t be happening.

This should not be fucking happening.
The harder they fell, the more he hated himself.
In all honesty, he felt about ready to vomit at this point, when finally,


“N-No…!”


The single word was impulsive though muffled and cracked with unadulterated, free emotion. He didn’t have to even think about what Jake was saying, all he knew was that he was declaring his leave if he didn’t say anything.
But the single word couldn’t not be dragged along his moment to speak, especially when he was in such a state. A wavering, unstable breath that sat on the borderline of a sob had his short though interruptive protest on a leash.

"Just fuckin', W-wait, please..."

This was going to be difficult.

The sob was given equal, if not more, mouth than his actual attempt to stop Jake from leaving. He was irritated to no possible fucking end by the shit pouring down his face and the sheer fact that he was left in such defeat, now clenching his teeth tightly as he pulls at the roots of his hair upwards and back with wet, shaky hands, allowing his tears to roll down a neater path down his messy face. His breaths, being as painful as they were, were being practically counted as he filled every creavice of his lungs with salty air to suddenly take long strides with a weaker though frustrated gait in a small circle. In the time he spared for himself, he used the dryness from the back of his palms to wipe at his face, coming to a tremulous halt slightly closer to Jake than before.

This was it, wasn’t it.

No eye-contact was made. Clammy hands still covered his face as he but tried to begin, though the first bit of his sentence was completely muffled. Now dropping his hands away from his lips, he tried again, shoulders rising with a quake. “I—“ A choked sob, quiet and fragile. “I’m sorry.”

And that was it. He left that out there to settle as he strained for his vocals to function in cognition with his purpose.

It didn’t even sound like Dirk. Fuck, he couldn’t even recognize his own voice. He was everywhere and in too much pain to understand the precision of what he was trying to portray.

“If I could be sorrier, I would.”

His shoulders shook. His arms were stiffly at his sides, and his head hung all the while keeping his voice soft similar to a scratched vinyl that continuously crackled and sparked and zipped into repeating itself.

“…I-I’m so fuc-cking sorry…” He paused a moment to cover his mouth, hiccupping quietly and swallowing his remaining pride. Tears were free-falling down his chin, his whole face moist to the touch. “...Jake…I-if you hate me, find it in yourself from our times before this bull to-, God, if you hate me just fucking hate me enough to keep me in your life because, d-dammit I—“

Anything left in the straining boy was scraped away from his innards and into his gut as he balls his fingers into fists, ones that turned his knuckles white and pulled at the tendons in his arm, and suddenly, pulls the courage from deep within to flip his head upright. Their eyes, true and sincere, met for the first time despite the soppy mess as Dirk pulled his jaw tight. It was bare to say at the least without his shades in such a state, but if he was going to cry, it would be up front; the genesis of his through. One cheek held more color than the other but it was hard to tell as the rounds of his disastrous complexion was covered in blond strands, completely lost in a disarray. Droplets clung to long golden eyelashes pulled into every which way. There was nothing he dare hold back. His face showed every bit of unfeigned, wholehearted passion he held towards the English.

“—I can’t imagine—“ Eye contact becomes a complete strain with the one he truly adores. Everything hurts. Squinting away the pain condensed in his face, Dirk’s complexion warps to reflect deep sentiment that has been kept in his heart for so long. Everything truly was showing on his face as his breaths become slightly labored with a greater pain in his eyes.

“--Living a life with-thout you in it. It’s not possible for me, Jake.”

The voice belonging to someone in love falters between a rasp and a declaration. The warped complexion twists far enough to the point of an aching resolve and a crack, uncontrollably concealing it away with his hands pulling his sights downwards while sobs carelessly break up his words.

“T—the wor-ld—“

Choking.

“You are w-worth the worl-d-”

Even more and more muffled.

“-t-to-”

Muted.

“-me…”

Not useless.

These were his last words before he mentally broke down. With his last mistake of grabbing Jake in mind, he took a fair step away from Jake in an overwhelmed exasperation of his last stretch, stopping there in a broken, paralyzed posture as he trembled with stifled sobs.