Room 307, Monday Evening

[dollpocalypse]

After an hour and twenty-five minutes spent trying to trace a text message that had just come in on his phone, Topher was forced to conclude two things: one, it was legit, and two, he sort of wanted to crawl under his bed and never come out ever again.

But there were bags of chips under his bed and he really didn't want to find out if the chips had rodent friends down there, so he had to settle for burrowing under the blankets instead, laptop open in front of him as he vengefully and imprecisely shot at zombies in a video game.

Like this weekend hadn't been bad enough. Like he hadn't gotten a stupid (albeit newly vanished) haircut and a hangover. Like he hadn't made a total moron out of himself in front of Ben and Jello Girl and Peter, then hurt his hand making the world's shittiest piece of technology. Now he'd done something to piss Tony off too, and -- here was the kicker -- he didn't even know what it was. Because Tony already knew about that stupid fanfiction story that that bitch Karla had told everyone about, and he hadn't been mad at him after the whole lap-sitting thing on Thursday night, and their encounter as kids on Saturday hadn't been too horrible, and nothing bad had happened in frat, so... what was it?

For a second, he wondered if maybe Kenzi had said something... but they weren't close, were they? He dismissed the idea and shot furiously at zombies. The volume was up ridiculously high, but he wasn't too bothered by the noise of the explosions right now. Or the gore. Even the stuff that normally squicked him out was fine.

[[Door closed, post wide open. This kid. So much emo.]]

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[lockestheway]

And look, there was someone knocking on his door!

Nothing like turning into your own bratty childhood self to remind you that occasionally you had to at least pretend to be a decent human being to people.

[dollpocalypse]

Oh, what the fuck.

"Who is it?" Topher asked warily, speaking loudly over the sound of zombies being slaughtered.

[lockestheway]

"It's me," Peter said, and then, realising that not everybody lived on Planet Peter, added: "Peter. Can I come in?"

[dollpocalypse]

You'd have to excuse Topher for tensing slightly. Or, you know, drawing the blankets tighter over himself.

"Yeah," he called, though he wasn't sure if he meant it.

[lockestheway]

Peter mentally weighed the advantages apologising to Topher had versus actually having to apologise again, then... kind of copped to the fact that while yes, salvaging Topher (again) would be useful to him, maybe apologising would just be the right thing to do.

But mostly it was the useful to him part.

He opened up the door after he'd gotten the okay and stepped in. "Hey," he said. "I needed to talk to you."

[dollpocalypse]

Topher wondered if it was obvious that he was freaked out. Nervously, he ran his thumb over the bandage on his hand, exposed on the outside of the blankets.

"Yeah, shoot," he said, trying to think about just this and not, say, the horrible devastating text he'd just gotten, or the whole bullying thing from Saturday. Anticipating what he thought Peter's request might be, he offered, "You need me to rig something up for you?"

Oh, Topher.

[lockestheway]

"No," Peter said, after a brief pause. "I just came by to talk about the weekend. I was a real snot."

[dollpocalypse]

"Oh."

A pause.

"Yeah, no, that's nothing. Don't worry about it."

Bullshit.

[lockestheway]

Peter gave that a shrug. "Well, I'm sorry, either way," he said. "I'm not exactly proud of that time in my life."

[dollpocalypse]

"Yeah," Topher said, glancing down. "Me neither."

Not that it was the same thing or anything -- he'd never made anyone do stuff they didn't want to yet -- but god, he could really live without the memory of being such a passive idiot.

"I was telling Ben, it's not like it was all your fault, anyway," Topher offered, even though he still wasn't sure how much of that he believed. "I mean. I gave you my stuff, right? Not exactly a genius move."

[lockestheway]

Look, Topher, if you wanted the full-on therapist treatment, you'd have to take this part of the conversation to Ender.

"And I pushed you around to get you to do it," Peter said, which was as much time as he wanted to spend on that angle. "So I'd say this ball was in my court."

[dollpocalypse]

Topher wasn't sure what to say to that. He knew Peter had been a dick, but he was here willing to take the blame for the first time ever, and now apparently it wasn't his fault. Even though everything else this week... kind of was.

Apparently.

"Hey, so, um, I could fix that lamp for you," he offered hesitantly. "I mean. It's kinda shitty. You know, now that I can... actually figure out how things work."

[lockestheway]

"If that's what you want to do, sure," Peter said. "I don't want to step on your professional pride here."

[dollpocalypse]

Actually, if he ever saw that stupid, exposed-wires-ridden excuse for a piece of technology, he might shoot himself.

"No problem."

[lockestheway]

Peter nodded. "So," he ventured, "Can I sit down?"

[dollpocalypse]

Topher dropped the blankets he'd been clutching holding up to make some space on the bed. "Yeah, sure."

And if clearing off the bed meant catching a glimpse of his phone and his face just falling, well. Nice friends wouldn't call him out on that, would they?

[lockestheway]

Peter sat down on the bed, more than a little relieved that the apology part of the evening was over now. "So what's up?"

[dollpocalypse]

"Just sort of a shitty week," Topher said, shrugging one shoulder. "You know, with the hangover and the weekend and the -- everything."

Nice, Topher. Nice.

[lockestheway]

And now they were back at 'do I really care about Topher's little feelings?' Sigh.

"Well, if you don't want a hangover, don't get smashed with Ben and his gang," Peter suggested.

[dollpocalypse]

And now he was staring into his lap and generally exhibiting those dreaded feelings all over the place. Sorry, Peter.

"I won't," he mumbled.

[lockestheway]

What was that?

"Look, I said I'm sorry," Peter said, "If you're still pissed off--"

Yes, because everything was about you, Peter.

[dollpocalypse]

"I'm not," Topher interrupted Peter, his voice coming out unnaturally sharp. "I mean, I wasn't. It's fine."

He turned his phone over in his hands and fell silent.

[lockestheway]

Oh, kuso, he was supposed to ask what was wrong or something now, wasn't it?

Peter stole one quick, longing glance at the door (and another, quicker one at the window-- dammit, third floor). "So what is it?"

[dollpocalypse]

"'s nothing," Topher mumbled. "Just... stuff. You wouldn't care."

While that was accurate, Topher, it was also remarkably self-pitying and annoying. God.

[lockestheway]

"Yes, but you're moping all over me about it, so you might as well say it," Peter said.

The only thing he had less patience with than feeeeeeeeelings was overt guilting. Ugh.