#honestly that truck ride must have been so fucking miserable like damn

[neonjstr]

do yall think mike and nacho hugged in the truck after mike got him out of the floor

[thewhumperinwhite]

Café: Gas Station

Previous: Teaser 1, Teaser 2, Hospital/Squad Car, Empty Bar, Used Car Lot 1, Used Car Lot 2

TW for: referenced domestic abuse, traumatic flashback caused by past abuse

@whumpitywhumpwhump

They’re ten miles outside of the city by the time they run out of gas.

“I can’t fucking believe we’re stopping already,” Sol says, frowning out the window. The rain has turned into a thick white fog that hangs low over the road and makes the lights of the gas station smoky and indistinct.

“Not my fault you picked a car with only half a tank,” Paxon sing-songs, but when Sol turns to glare at them he sees that their shoulders are tight and their hands are sort of white-knuckled on the steering wheel.

“Do you think it’s safe here?” Kent asks from the back seat, and Sol turns back to frown at him. He fell asleep almost the second they started driving, his bruised forehead resting against his window in a way that seems like it must hurt, and Sol is--a little more worried about him than he wants to admit, maybe.

He looks--pretty awful, Sol thinks. Well, they both do, really, but like, Kent looks especially awful.

“Should be,” Pax says brightly, and pops their car door open like there’s not a thing in the world to be afraid of, though Sol notes that they’re very quick to open the backseat driver’s side door and pick up their sword from where they put it when they climbed in. “The bleeders don’t spread that fast, so I’d be pretty surprised if they’ve made it this far already.”

Without really meaning to, Sol exchanges a worried look with Kent. Kent bites his lip, looking— a little afraid.

Sol has a sudden, insane desire to reach out and ruffle Kent’s hair and tell him it’s all gonna be okay, which he mashes down inside himself with savage force.

“Hey,” Sol calls, crawling over into Paxon’s vacated seat and rolling down the window, “don’t you think it’s gonna be a little suspicious if somebody sees you pumping gas while wearing a huge fuckin’ sword, genius?”

“Like you’d be brave enough to complain about it,” Paxon says sweetly. “You guys wanna go buy somethin’ from the store? Advil or something, at least? You’re lookin’ a little green around the gills, sunshine.” Sol notes with some annoyance but no surprise that their voice is a lot less snide when they’re talking to Kent, which— tracks, honestly.

“No, that’s alright,” Kent says softly. “We wouldn’t want to leave you all by yourself out here.”

Surprised, Paxon turns back to look at Kent, and Kent holds their gaze with an expression Sol can’t read for the life of him— but it seems to make Paxon uncomfortable.

“Uh— yeah,” they say, with an awkward laugh, and turn back to watch the pump, fidgeting. “We’ll— all go in together, then. I could use some coffee if we’re gonna keep driving.”

Sol looks from Kent’s unreadable expression to Paxon’s tight, uncomfortable-looking back, confused. “Uh— what the hell was that?”

Kent’s face clears immediately, and he gives Sol a smile. It’s— kind of unsettling, actually. “What was what?” he asks, and sounds for all the world like he’s honestly confused.

“Uh— “ Maybe he’s imagining things, and nothing significant passed between them after all. Sol shakes his head. “Nothing, I guess.” He frowns at Paxon’s back— they’ve swung their sword back over their shoulder, like it was when he first saw them. “You’re not really gonna go into a convenience store with that thing, are you?”

Paxon fishes around in the pockets of the hideous pink motorcycle jacket they’ve got on under their equally-hideous poncho. “Guess I am,” they say lightly, though their cheer sounds even more forced this time. “Sunshine’s right— we would stick together, us three.”

As they say this they turn back to tip Sol a wink over their shoulder. Rolling his eyes, he relaxes a little. Guess it was my imagination after all.

Apparently, the “bleeders” have not reached this little highway gas station yet. On the bright side, that means nobody suddenly gnawing on his arm as they walk through the parking lot. On the downside, boy do they get funny looks from the front desk clerk, who seems to be debating whether he should kick them out or not.

Kent flushes under his bruises and tries to absolutely no effect to rearrange his blood-caked bangs, but Paxon just shoots the clerk a wide scarred grin and bids him a cheerful ‘good evening,’ and the clerk quails under Paxon’s gaze and apparently decides it isn’t worth it.

Despite Paxon’s assertion that they should ‘stick together,’ he and Kent almost immediately dart off in separate directions— Paxon to the coffee machine, Kent to the pharmaceuticals aisle. Sol is torn for a second between his desire to keep a sharp eye on Paxon at all times and the need to make sure that Kent, who is not exactly steady on his feet, doesn’t keel over, and he— isn’t sure how to feel about the fact that it’s the second impulse that wins out. Keeping close on Kent’s heels, Sol compensates by glancing over his shoulder at Paxon. 

Paxon, noticing, pauses in the act of dispensing coffee to raise an eyebrow and waggle their fingers at him. He flips them off.

“Hey, Sol,” Kent says in a low voice, as they reach the aisle filled with over-the-counter pain killers and also chewing gum, for whatever reason. “Are you doing okay?”

Sol stares at Kent, whose entire torso seems to be made out of bruises. “Are— are you fucking kidding me, man?”

“Your wrist, I mean,” Kent says, gesturing at the offending limb. It’s gone sort of purple and is swelling a little, and Sol doesn’t mind admitting to himself that wow it does hurt a lot. “You hurt it when you were fighting— didn’t you?”

Sol was kind of hoping Kent hadn’t noticed. He looks away, shuffling his feet. “It’s no big deal. I didn’t even notice, in the moment.” That much is true, anyway— he was too pumped full of adrenaline to even register the pressure he was putting on the recently-relocated bones until they’d already been in the truck, at which point he’d had to fight pretty hard not to cry in front of Paxon Fields— but Kent was asleep by that point, anyway.

Kent gives him a look that says pretty clearly how much of Sol’s bullshit he’s buying, and reaches for a box labeled Motrin.

He freezes before his fingers touch it, though, and his face goes totally blank, like someone has just hit his ‘off’ switch.

“Uh—” Sol reaches out for his shoulder.

Smiling, Kent moves just out of Sol’s reach, like he’s trying to be subtle about it. “Sorry,” he says, a little too loudly, and grabs a box of Advil, instead. “This should help with the swelling,” he says, pressing it into Sol’s good hand— the one he reached out with.

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” Sol mumbles, frowning down at the box, which is the same damn medication as the first one, and Kent smiles at him brightly for another second before turning to wander back over toward Paxon.

Sol tries to ignore the uneasy fluttering in his stomach. Because— goddamn, he has way bigger things to worry about than Kent Graves’s mental wellbeing.

Maybe it was a mistake to come with him, Sol thinks, miserably.

——

Sol is still staring down at the box of Advil Kent handed him, and Paxon is preoccupied with pouring far too much sugar into their coffee, so Kent takes a second to press his hand over his mouth and close his eyes.

He thinks of the first time he ran to his mother, after his father’s fist sent him crashing to the ground. She’d smiled, and dabbed at the blood on his face with a tissue, and told him that everybody lost their baby teeth sooner or later. And when he told her that it hurt, she handed him painkillers.

She didn’t even notice the first time he hit Chase, so it had been Kent’s turn to pass along the lie

(it’s alright, it just happens sometimes when he gets angry)

and climb up to the top shelf for the Motrin.

Chase— 

(IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!)

Kent runs a finger over his scar and forces a smile back onto his face. Because he’s alright. He can do this, if only because he has to. He’ll get to St. Ben’s, and then— 

Well. He guesses Sol will know the whole thing, then. That thought turns his stomach even more than he expects it to.

Maybe it was a mistake to let him come.

——

Pax doesn’t actually like coffee, which is why they’re currently stirring their third packet of sugar into the cup; but it’s a hell of a lot cheaper than any of the energy drinks and they have a feeling neither of their two freeloaders possesses a penny to their names, which means they better start saying up.

...Okay, maybe ‘freeloaders’ isn’t really fair.

This, they’re starting to realize, might be a little bit harder than they thought it would be.

Solemn Michaelis, whatever else he might be, is at least easy as hell to read— he doesn’t trust Pax, and probably never will unless Pax really works at it, which they aren’t sure they need to bother with. In fact, he said as much, when he shepherded Kent into the back seat and climbed into the passenger seat himself.

“Boy, I’m flattered,” Pax said, grinning. “Didn’t expect you to be so eager to sit with me!”

And Sol said, “Fuck you. I just wanna be right here if you try anything funny, asshole. Kent might be dumb enough to trust you,” (he said this very loudly, and Kent serenely ignored him) “but I sure as hell don’t.”

And then he proceeded to glare at Pax for the first twenty minutes of the car ride. Which is fine. Pax doesn’t need Solemn to like them, particularly.

Which brings them around nicely to Kent Graves, who was nothing but polite and courteous to Pax until he went quite peacefully to sleep in the backseat, which had of course led Pax to dismiss him as a bit of an idiot.

Which. Is actually a little embarrassing, now.

Because all he had to say was that he didn’t one to leave Pax on their own, and Pax immediately saw what he really meant, which was— well, he didn’t trust Pax either. And Pax hadn’t noticed that at all until just now, and they were fairly certain the only reason they knew how he felt now was because Kent Graves wanted them to know.

Maybe it was a mistake to take him with, Pax thinks, taking a sip of sickly-sweet coffee.

[beepbeeprichiellc]

98: “ Not sure if you could tell, but I’m not exactly a people person. ” reddie

Alright, alright, alright.

Richie groaned as he walked into the bookstore, the smell ofparchment and dust stinging his nostrils. Normally he would just order what heneeded for school online, but Bill insisted that a copy of Pride and Prejudice wouldbe a third of the cost at this quaint little store and it wasn’t like Richiewas exactly flushed with cash these days. It wasn’t like he could honestlycomplain, he had received a full ride for his academic performance and all heneeded to buy was the essentials but his part time barely paid for food letalong another Amazon purchase.

The bell on the door rang out, announcing his arrival. Lookingto the front counter he found no one and snorted, “Must be on a coffee break.”He muttered, making his way to the classic section.  As he rounded the corner he nearly bulldozedover the boy who had been standing there.

“Fuck.” Richie choked, the boy’s books scattering on thefloor. “I didn’t see you there.”

“You don’t say.” The boy retorted, scoffing. Richie felt hisheart leap into his throat, the person he had plowed over was drop dead gorgeous.His brown wavy hair was managed perfectly, his brilliant doe eyes looking up athim with fire dancing behind them. Freckles were dusted along his nose andcheeks, connecting like constellations in the sky.

“Yeah, well my bad anyways.” He finally managed to squeakout. The boy shook his head, rolling his eyes as he bent down to gather what hehad dropped. “Oh let me he-“

“No, I’ve got them.” He nipped, when he was finished hecorrected his posture and glanced at Richie. “Is there something you are specificallylooking for or do you just go around and knock over people smaller than you?”

Richie laughed nervously, the boy’s sarcastic tone lingeringin the air. “Do you work here or something?”  

“No, I wear nametags for fun.”

“O-Oh.” Finally he noticed the little piece of plasticpinned on to the boys’ shirt, the letters in his name written in fine, pristinehandwriting. “Eddie huh? That’s a cool name.”

“Sure it is.” Eddie muttered, shaking his head. “Look whatdo you need from this section? I’ve got to go back to work.”

“I need a copy of Pride and Prejudice for class if you-.” Beforehe could even finish, Eddie had already pulled the book off of the shelf,handing a copy over to him.

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“Good, I’ll ring you up.” Richie followed the short boy tothe front, trying his hardest not to look at his ass but failing miserably. Eddieslammed the books onto the table, bringing the focus back to him. “It’s not politeto stare.” He nipped.

“Sorry.” Richie replied, suppressing a smirk. “So what do Iowe ya?”

“A dollar fifty.” He answered, typing the amount into acomputer that looked like it survived the Stone Age. “Please.” Eddie added asif an afterthought. Richie nodded, pulling out exact change from his pocket. Ashe handed it over his fingers brushed Eddie’s skin, sending a spark up his arm.“Do you want a sack?”

“No.”

“Okay here you go.” Richie watched the book being pushedback to him, the picture on the front staring back to him. “Have a good day.”

“So, do you go to school at the campus or?”

“Look, you seem like a nice guy but you’re wasting yourtime.” Eddie replied, “Not sure if you could tell, but I’m not exactly a peopleperson. That’s why I work in a used bookstore, where the only customer I’ve hadall day stares at my ass the entire time.” 

Richie couldn’t help the blush on his cheeks, “Well in mydefense it’s a nice ass.” Then Eddie smiled, breathing life back into him. Itwasn’t anything too bright, and there wasn’t even a chuckle but it was enough tosend his heart into convulsions. “I bet you get hit on all the time lookinglike that.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” Eddie replied, a small amountof humor behind his tone. “Try the Ms. Maggie, she is more prone to it.”

“Oh is she hot?”

“She’s 80.”

“Hey if this leads nowhere, I’ve got to keep my optionsopen.” Richie could feel the air changing, his knees becoming week at the soundof Eddie’s giggles. “I’ll take what I can get.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “Well I’m sure old lady is just whatyou need. I’m sure her standards are real low.”

“You wound me Eddie!” Richie replied dramatically, clutchinghis heart. “You don’t even know my name, how dare you make such judgments.”

“Anyone who tries to pick up people at a used bookstore ispretty low in my book.”

“Yeah well looking so cute should be illegal.” It was a patheticline but it seemed that Eddie ate it up, a blush painting his face a deep red.

“I should get back to work.” He muttered, dropping his gazeto the floor.

“Uh yeah right.” Richie muttered, grabbing his book. “Wellit was nice to meet you anyways Eddie.”

As he began to walk out the door, he began to feel himselfbecome heavy. “Oh wait.” Eddie called, stopping him before his hand could reachthe handle. “You forgot you’re receipt, uh-what was your name?”

“Richie.” He awnsered, taking the small piece of paper.

“Richie.” Eddie repeated, the name dripping smoothly downhis skin making him shiver. With a nod he left, cursing each step he took. Theopened his truck, tossing the book into the passenger seat and huffing inannoyance. He should have asked him out, should have done something other than shamelesslyflirting with him.

As he started his car his eyes looked down at the receipt,his chest swelling. There on the back was a phone number, the heart behindEddie’s name making him weak. “Well I’ll be damned.” He muttered. “That boy justgot hotter.”

[stickthatinyourstraw]

Beginnings

I’m going to start journaling here on my ole tumblr account. For anyone who still follows me, if this isn’t your thing, you’re welcome to go. I just need to find a new way to release some thoughts and energy on a regular basis. Who knows how often I’ll even get around to it. Ideally daily would be great, but considering how scatter-brained I really am, it’s unlikely. This’ll be a kinda stream of consciousness type thing, where I don’t go back and edit it, I just post what I’ve written.

So I guess I’ll start with what makes me want to do this in the first place; I don’t know how to deal with my own emotions or thoughts, and I feel like venting about it to no one on the internet might make me feel better. I went out with Wyatt tonight, and it all just stressed me out. To set the background, and so I’ll remember with context later; today was a chill day at work, I got to go in when I wanted for just education, so I slept in and grabbed Starbucks on my way in. Nothing particularly special happened, except for some sweet gossip that I love to hate; Jerenda is moving from her manager position to be a CCU nurse. I imagine that’s a pay cut, and I’m surprised Debbie is letting her go, but she must really be suffering like the rest of us were (and some still are). I asked Cassie to get with her old contacts in CCU and give me updates on how she does, more specifically if she fails, so I can report back to all my old buddies on the floor. She deserves every ounce of shit she gets up there. The rest of my work day was generally uneventful, but I ended up coming home to a paper towel confettied mess, because Wyatt hadn’t put the boys up this morning like he usually does. Not a huge deal, but I can’t find the damn broom, so I’m going to leave it for him to see and clean up, though it does stress me out every time I go out there. If I just ignore it, it doesn’t exist, right? Wyatt came home after with his car back out of the shop, he had some thing done to soften the ride and raise the suspension or whatever, but they ended up somehow fucking it up and lowering the damn thing even more. Now you can’t even fit a finger in the wheel well. I’ll admit that the ride was smoother, however even the slightest bumps sounded like the entire undercarriage of the car drug on the ground. So we rode out to the Habitat for Humanity food truck fest at the baseball stadium to meet Dad for some dinner. I got a giant redneck cup full of sweet tea, and Wyatt had a couple beers. He had Mahi tacos from Wrighteous Eats, I had a macaroni and pulled pork grilled cheese from Who Cut the Grilled Cheese? All in all, pretty good stuff. Dad wasn’t hungry, and Wyatt wanted to get to his buddy John’s car meet, so we left around 7. Now, I used to take a lot of issue with his driving style, because he tends to speed and take turns and corners too quickly for my liking, but since he put new tires on and stiffened the suspension in the Accord, it gripped a lot better and I felt I could trust it more. Well, it’s been raining for the last two days, so it’s damn wet outside, and I don’t care how much grip your tires have, if you go too fast on a turn, you’re putting not only us in danger, but other people as well. He flew down 110 at about 70, driving past a wreck with an overturned truck and a few state troopers. I felt it would’ve been smarter not to speed past the troopers, but whatever. We get to 29 and he has to do a fly by for the boys, so he hauls ass at like 70 down the 45 zone to get some good muffler noises, then does a U-turn and comes up to the shop. As soon as we get out of the car (whose door I’ve just locked), he and Rylan jump into a souped up Civic and go for a ride. I barely got an “I’ll be right back, love you babe!” before he hopped in and they took off in the little red fart can. 5 minutes go by and I’m getting antsy, standing in a mechanic’s parking lot with a bunch of strangers in the dark, waiting for my doofus boyfriend to get back. I text him and tell him, “I am not interested in hanging out here alone with strangers.” He replied with “I’ll be back in a sec, they needed me to buy beer.” Okay, fine. He’s gone almost another ten minutes, and needless to say, I hadn’t arrived in the greatest mood as it was. They get back, and I’m audibly irritated with him, and he asks if I’m mad at him for going, and I say that I kinda am for just immediately taking off and leaving me alone with strangers for 15 minutes. He tells me to “calm down”, which we all know how well that works out. He says “whatever dude”, my favorite pet peeve phrase out of his mouth, and walks off to put the beer away. He then goes to talk to this kid who’s bought himself a piece of shit Accord and proceeds to give him the old coilovers off his car that he’d had replaced today. The kid (19) is super excited, and proceeds to gush about his Accord to Wyatt, who’s just thrilled to have someone with the same car as him. Wyatt takes him for a ride in his car to show it off, and I stay behind because I have no interest in being complicit in his going 80 down Hwy 29. Two different groups of guys were making shitty remarks about Wyatt’s car, and though I couldn’t make out specific sentences, I could hear the snickering about how slow he was. They made fun of him. All I could think of was that I hoped no one knew I was his girlfriend. I didn’t want to be made fun of too, nor did I want to make anyone stop talking about it. I wanted to hear their unfiltered and unbiased opinions. Those opinions were not nice. Then they got back and Wyatt asked if he could go for a ride in the kid’s car, and though I gave him a dirty look, I wanted him to just do it and get it over with. He saw my face and told the kid “maybe another day” but I whispered “he has the mental maturity of a 4 year old, just go with him and make his fuckin day.” They left, the kid’s muffler dragging against the ground the whole way. Once again, all I could think of was “please for the love of God no one acknowledge that I know half of the brain power in that vehicle.” They made endless fun of that shit bucket car, even after they came back. Wyatt did get a semi-backhanded compliment from Rylan about his car from the ordeal, “This car is a piece of shit. Accords are not all pieces of shit, because your car isn’t a piece of shit, but this car is.” That made Wyatt happy, which is all I ask for. Now, note that this entire time we’ve been here, and I mean since we rolled up into the parking lot, I’ve had to pee. I’m on my period, so I’m already bloated, and I just finished about a quart of sweet tea and a giant grilled cheese and tots, so I’m busting at the seams here. He asks if I want him to take me home so I can pee, but I don’t necessarily want to abandon him and leave, I just want to go somewhere relatively clean, not the mechanic’s bathroom in the shop that I’ve just seen three kids running in and out of and playing in. No thanks. But eventually I just give in and let him take me home, and here we are. Writing to you, the void. It’s nice to just sit here on my computer, on the couch, in my own home, in the dark and the quiet, with three relatively calm dogs at my sides. Cali popped up out of a box and scared the shit out of Shep, so I’ve had something to laugh at.

I need to try and study a bit for the HESI and then sign up to take it next week so I can get my dumbass into school. I don’t really know what I want anymore. I want to help people, and I think I want to do it via emergency medicine, but I honestly don’t know if I’m equipped to handle that. Sure, I love the blood and guts in videos and shit, but what about in real life? I haven’t had a chance to see a real surgery yet, and with the way that I’ve handled things in the past, I’m nervous I’ll be too weak for it. Plus, going back to 3 12s every week and working those long and miserable hours on my feet with a bunch of grouchy ass patients. I really like the whole unconscious patients thing, they haven’t got much room to talk back. The other thing I’m worried about with nursing is being able to even get through school. Sure, if Glenn can get through it, I imagine I can too. But how do I learn all those medications? The abnormal heart rhythms? The various symptoms and variations of diseases and their processes? In just four semesters? How do I manage all that in such a limited time? I’ve never been particularly good in school, and I’m lazy as all hell, with my “if you don’t know it by now, there’s no point in studying any more” bullshit mentality. I know I shouldn’t be like that with schooling that determines my career, but I can’t help myself but not give a shit. It’s been almost a week since registration for the summer opened up and I still haven’t signed up for a class. I don’t know how I’ll be paying for it either, with the lack of Florida prepaid left over at this point. I’ve only got 37 hours left, but thankfully only need 42 hours for this AA. Beyond that, I’m shit outta luck. 

I’m just not feeling the motivation for anything. I don’t know if it’s that I don’t feel motivation any more, or that I never felt it to begin with. I wasn’t motivated in middle school or high school, and certainly not the first time around in college classes. But I just don’t feel motivation to do things that I enjoy. It reminds me a lot of when I would come straight home from school and just sink into the couch to watch Netflix until late at night, without bothering to do much homework or any studying, much less any self care. I don’t have the motivation to shower every day, I don’t remember to brush my teeth every morning if I don’t go to work like normal, I never wear makeup and usually don’t brush my hair. I never eat breakfast or enjoy my coffee or wake up at the first alarm without snoozing. I don’t play videogames anymore, and I don’t have much interest in plants anymore. I don’t keep up with my part of house work and yet still get frustrated with Wyatt when he doesn’t do his part. I neglect my old passions and belongings. I don’t try. I don’t really care, even. I just feel so empty sometimes. I feel like I have a hole in my stomach, like I’ve tried to fill a void with hobbies and interests and food and friends, and nothing ever seems to work, or at least not for long. I’m not really depressed right now, but maybe it’s just that it’s grown into something different. Maybe this constant emptiness is my new form of deep sadness. I don’t cry a lot anymore, and I haven’t been suicidal in a couple months. Even when I have been sad lately, I’ve thought about the idea of suicide taking away the pain, but it just doesn’t feel like the right solution anymore.  I guess that’s a good thing, not wanting to die, even if I don’t really feel like I am living. I’m just so upset about everything all the time. I’m worried I’m too handsy and mean with the dogs. It breaks my heart every time I raise my hand to Lillie and she cowers, and I know that I’m the one who’s done that to her. I don’t beat her, but I’ve used my hands to train, and I know it’s wrong. I guess that makes me one of the bad guys. I hate myself for it, because I can’t control myself in the moment, I just see this blind rage and I lash out at the object of my anger, and then afterwards realize I was wrong in handling it the way I did. Do I even deserve these dogs? Sheppy paces out of boredom, and I’m worried Lillie will end up doing the same. They’re just so high energy, and I’m so not, I can’t motivate myself to take care of them the way I know they deserve. I hate myself sometimes. This is one of those moments where I wish I could just die, but I know I don’t want to. I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. I think I’ll schedule another appointment with Dr. Kim and talk it out with her. I really need help with Wyatt most of all. I’m worried about him, and I’m worried about the way I treat him. He absolutely deserves better than I’m giving him, but I couldn’t stand to lose him. He really is my whole world, but like with Lillie, when he aggravates me, I just lose all sense of right and wrong and just go with an aggressive and hateful base instinct of doing what I want. I’m trying to be better, but I feel like since I’ve stopped therapy, I’ve slid back some. I haven’t been so kind, patient, and forgiving. He deserves that much from me, when I know he does the same for me.

Anyway, at this point, I’m just rambling thoughts of things that have come to mind lately, and I think this is sufficient for the first journal post. If you’re a follower and you’ve made it this far, I’m so sorry for you, it was not worth it bud. But for me when I come back and read this later, be more forgiving to him. He didn’t mean it that way, he didn’t intend to make you feel like that, he didn’t mean to upset or bother you. Sometimes he’s just oblivious, and he still can’t read your mind. Give him the patience he deserves, and the love and support and acceptance he needs. Give more of yourself to him, don’t be selfish, share a little.

Cheers