#the problem with going directly from enemies to surgically attached to each other (metaphorically)

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

🌹

Thank you! Roy is having a bad time™

There was no warning, sometimes, before the constant simmer of anger in Roy’s stomach erupted into a boiling, clawing rage; blotted out the feeling his fingers and toes, the aches down in his bones. Kicked rational thought away to a corner and slammed the door leaving behind a desperate white static, an itch in his hands to wrap around the little prick’s throat and squeeze ‘til he knew to shut his fucking mouth and never open it again. His mouth moved; he could not hear what it said past the ringing in his ears but Jamie was still smiling, that infuriating fucking smirk like there was nothing in the world funnier than winding Roy up. He shot to his feet — and pain exploded in his knee, a wave of agony that shocked him back into himself, left him dizzy and shaking as he flopped backwards onto the sofa. Jamie and Keeley both watched him wide-eyed and nervous, frozen in place. Roy tipped his head back, pressed his palms into his eyes until he saw stars. “Fuck.” He’d almost hit the kid. He’d have done it too, if it weren’t for his knee — and thank fuck for that, for once in his miserable fucking life — and it wouldn’t be the first time. God, he was no better than Jamie’s father. Worse, maybe, for making him feel safe, for promising Jamie he’d keep him safe, and then he turned around and snapped on him for what? For an insult he’d heard a thousand times, when Jamie was clearly having a shit time?