Work Text:
They were at Joeys house and it wasn't going well.
"You're such a perfectionist man, calm the fuck down a bit. Not everything you create has to be this-" He looked around, trying to come up with the right words to describe what he meant. "- finished and really thought out thought, you know?" Wednesday sighed, he really wasn't able to form proper words today, but hoped he'd help the shorter man see that he was chasing unfulfillable goals.
"Yeah yeah, whatever"
Wednesday sighed, calming down again. "I'm worried about you, Joe"
He was worried, they were all worried. They couldn't understand anyway. He had to create. Slowing down wasn't an option. But then again he felt like he wasn't doing anything at the same time, no? How can you create, when all you do is lay around in your own self-pity? Staring at the drywall, seeing the facade slowly crumbling while the ugly sticky feeling of self-hatred seethes through his body, caging him in.
It clung to all his bones, stuck to his muscles and wrapped it's webs around his organs. Seeing those other people be more successful, write better riffs, come up with the catchiest drum beats, the perfect way to articulate their emotions into lyrics. All it made him feel was worthless. But he wasn't sad, no. And certainly not depressed. Ha! He felt numb, stuck in this void, this endless circle of self-hatred and self-pity coexisting.
How could he be a perfectionist with unrealistic expectations to others, when all he saw in himself was a lazy bastard who couldn't come up with anything? Certainly something must be wrong with the others. He'd tricked them into thinking he was a creative genius.
That had to be it! He should take a break, maybe. A long one. Get the 'creative juices flowing again' or whatever his manager would call it. But did he deserve that? No of course not. Breaks were for succesful people after doing hard work. They had to write the album, they had to come up with ideas- he had to come up with brilliant lyrics and catchy riffs.
He needed fuel. Caffeine? No, he's already had enough coffee to keep three horses going. Beer? No, he was still hungover from last night. Coke? Tempting, but he knew that'd just get him riled up and he'd end up jerking off on the couch again instead of actually working on this damn album. Food? Well, cooking does always calm him down, but that would take up too much time now, he needed to ne productive after all.
"Fuck dude, are you even listening to me?" Wednesday said, his tone indicating how he was starting to get frustrated, waving his hand in front of Joeys face now.
Oh right, that's where his thoughts drifted off again.
"Leave me alone Weds, I don't have time for this today. And my head hurts, so please, do me a favor and piss off, yeah?" Joey spoke, no real emotion in his voice. Usually a few determined words made Wednesday give up and finally leave him alone for the night. Today wasn't one of those days.
"No"
"No? What do you mean, no? I asked you to leave"
"You can't even look me in the eyes when you tell me to fuck off, Joe. You haven't looked me in the eyes in a while" He could feel Wednesdays soft eyes on him, it made his gut twist with guilt and shame.
"What? For fucks sake I don't have time for your bullshit today-" Joey grunted, turning his back to Wednesday. He had changed his mind and needed a drink from the kitchen. Now.
"Joey" There it was again, that the way he said his name. Like a woman looking at a hurt kitten. Like there was any reason to be concerned. He hated Wednesday when he said his name like that. Hated when he looked at him like that.
"No. Fuck off Weds"
"Joey. Hey! Goddamn it you're a stubborn bastard. C'mon, at least look at me" , he paused. "Nathan!"
That was the last straw, Joey turned around in an instant, his face contorted in anger. He was in Wednesdays face within seconds - and not in a good way.
"Don't fuckin call me that"
"At least you're finally looking at me" Wednesday said smug, feeling victorious. That grin was swiftly wiped off his face by Joey's fist approaching fast. It didn't hurt much, at least physically, but he still hadn't expected Joey to actually hit him like that. Wednesday tasted iron in his mouth, but he didn't have time to think about that now.
"What's your fucking problem?!" Wednesday shouted, more disappointed than actually angered.
"What's MY fucking problem?! You have been nothing but a pain in the ass the last couple of weeks! Why can't you understand that I want to be left alone, Wednesday?! I have an album to record and I'm not making progress as you know. And all you do is nag and poke at me, asking all these questions!" Joey was shouting now, his hands flying around, he looked like an overwhelmed and frustrated toddler.
Deep down Wednesday knew Joey wasn't really angry, he was hurting and didn't want to let anyone see. What Wednesday didn't understand was why Joey was so closed off towards him, he had thought they had somewhat of a connection.
Wednesdays face softened. He was looking at Joey with those eyes again, it frustrated him even more.
"Don't give me that look"
"Joey..."
"No! FUCK! It's enough! Piss off! Don't give me those eyes and don't say my name like I'm some frail wounded animal you want to save. I hate when you do that, makes me want to punch your stupid face again." Joey had never felt so frustrated, helpless. He wasn't angry at Wednesday really, he was rather frustrated that he taller man saw him in this fucked up state. It made him panic, the fear and shame manifesting themselves into anger and hateful words.
"Fucking leave, this is the last time I'll say it! I don't need your 'kind words' or 'warm smile' or whatever you're trying to do. What's your plan anyway, man?! Want me to pour my heart out to you and sob into your shirt like a wimpy fag? Then you hug me and we fuck? Is that it?!" Joey continued his hateful monologue, not paying any attention to Wednesdays reaction.
Hurt him. Say hurtful things that will drive him away, then he won't see you in this state no longer. Then he'll finally leave.
"Which, by the way, won't happen again because it was a one time thing, hope you fuckin got that. It wasn't good anyway, makes it hard to believe you've ever sucked dick before." Joey gave a heartless chuckle.
"I see. Good luck on the album then." Was all Wednesday said before grabbing his jacket and slamming the door.
He finally left.
"Shit. Fuck. You fucking asshole" Joey mumbled to himself, dissatisfied with how the conversation had ended. He grabbed a beer bottle from the fridge, his hands shaky as he downed it in one gulp. With all the quietness setting in there was only one thought that remained:
Why do I keep hurting the people I love?