“Did what?” Donny took another step in the room.
“Did want to be with me. You don’t anymore. I don’t blame you.” He turned to glare at Donny. “I told you this would happen.” Roland bit out a self-deprecating laugh that made Donny cringe. It sounded far worse to his ears than nails on a chalkboard.
“What? I did. I do.” Donny’s eyes began to sting with the threat of tears. He couldn’t make sense of what was wrong with Roland. He didn’t know what Roland needed from him.
“I’m notgoodfor you,” Roland said, and his voice sounded accusatory, like it was somehow Donny’s fault that Roland found himself lacking. He scrubbed his hands down his face, then twined his fingers into his hair and pulled it back. It smeared more paint, leaving a large portion of his face obscured with the dark color that trailed into his hair.
“I told you before, you don’t get to decide that for me.” Donny had reached Roland, and he stretched a hand out and pressed it softly to Roland’s chest. He could feel Roland’s heart slam against his ribcage like it was desperate to either explode or escape.
“Then I’m deciding it forme!” Roland yelled at him. “Do I not fucking matter? Do you have any fucking idea what it feels like to know I’ll never be good enough for the man I fucking love?”
Roland swatted his hand away. Donny put it back, grabbing the fabric of Roland’s shirt in his hand and pulling him closer. Roland had tears falling freely down his face, streaking the paint and clumping his lashes. Donny raised his free hand and wiped them clean from Roland’s cheeks as he felt his own eyes fill from the same heartbreak.
“You love me?” Donny asked quietly, releasing his grip on Roland’s shirt and stepping back half a pace.
“It doesn’t mean anything now.” Roland’s hair fell into his face and he pushed it aside, again turning his back on Donny.
He placed both hands delicately against the small of Roland’s back.
“It means everything,” was Donny’s honest reply.
Roland stepped away from him and crossed the room, tucking himself into the corner near where Donny had propped the flower painting. Roland raised his hand to his mouth and bit at the side of his thumbnail, his demeanor shifting from pure rage to a terrified kind of nervousness.
“Did you paint that for me?” Donny gestured to the canvas.
Roland nodded.
“Are those daisies?” Donny crossed the room and stood nearer to the painting, nearer to Roland.
“They were,” he admitted.
“Why did you ruin it?” Donny squatted down to take a closer look at the canvas. He could make out some white daisies, and pink and orange flowers underneath the angry smears of black.
“It wasn’t good enough for you.” Roland slid down the wall and wrapped his arms around his calves.
Donny was sure Roland was talking about more than the painting by now. “That’s not something for you to decide, I told you.”
Roland pushed up from the floor and grabbed the canvas and threw it across the room.
“Yeah, you told me. I don’t get to fucking decide. And that’s bullshit. Idoget to decide. And this is me deciding.”
“What are you deciding?” Donny swallowed thickly then swiped at his cheeks, which were already damp from his tears. He had a feeling about what was coming, and he didn’t think he could talk Roland down from it.
“What I’ve been trying to tell you all along!” Roland paced across the room and kicked the canvas into the wall, then kicked it repeatedly until the wood frame splintered. “I’m not good enough for you, and no matter what you try to do, I won’t ever be. And it’s justtoo muchto try and pretend I ever could be. It’s not fair for you to ask that of me. It’s not fair!” His voice cracked.
“You don’t need to pretend! You are enough as you are now! Why don’t you fucking get that?” Donny approached Roland and grabbed his face, maneuvering him until they were staring, two pairs of swollen red eyes, desperate for the other. “You are all I want, all I need.”
Roland screwed his eyes shut and Donny watched tears fall down Roland’s cheeks at a quickening pace.
“You said you loved me. Just tell me you love me. We can fix this, okay?” Donny begged. Roland shook his head, pulled out of Donny’s hands and stepped back. Donny dropped his hands and closed his eyes, biting his lip between his teeth.
“You need to go,” Roland said, his voice laced with hurt.
Donny shook his head.
“Go back to your party and get a date with that guy with the tattoos. There’s people better than me for you. We both know it.” Donny felt the contempt in Roland’s words wash over him.
“I don’t want anyone else. I’ve told you that.”
