Genre: Romance & Drama, some light, dry humor
Rated: T
Warning: Language and slash.
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"Hey, Scott?"

"What?" he asks, though he's terribly uninterested.

Duncan takes a deep breath. Then, ice blue eyes downcast, he whispers, "I Cinta you."

Scott pulls back a little from the embrace. They had been lying in bed, talking about nothing for the past half an hour, waiting for the sun to come up. God knows why they're both up at this time of the morning...

The ginger stares at Duncan with something like horror in his eyes. Something like discomfort. "Okay," he says flatly.

Duncan chuckles slightly. "That's all anda have to say to that? 'Okay'?"

"Well, what do anda want me to say, damn it?" Scott pulls away, stands up. He avoids looking Duncan in the eye as he throws on his muscle shirt.

"God, I don't know, anda could say it back, for fuck's sake!" Duncan stands up, clad only in boxers. "You ever think of that?"

"I'm not gonna say it back if it's not true!" He spits, and the horror is now in Duncan's eyes.

There's a silence.

"Get out."

"You're kicking me out now? What, because I don't Cinta you?" Scott takes a step forward, glaring at the punk. "Because I'm not weak enough to fall in love?"

"Caring about someone doesn't fucking make anda weak, Scott!"

"Oh, please, it's the biggest admission of weakness someone could make!" He pulls on his jeans, trips, and falls.

Remarkably, he has the audacity to look at his boyfriend and ask, "Aren't anda gonna help me up?"

"Fuck you!" Duncan points at the door, "Now get the hell out of my house!"

"It's my house, too, god damn it!" But Scott still walks out the door, full of fury and embarresment. It threatens to tear him apart, but he keeps testing Duncan, he keeps saying cruel things. "I guess you're just jealous that I'm stronger than you..."

The green-haired man flips the other off. And yet Scott keeps talking: "It's not my fault you're dumb enough to fall for me!"

Then there's a door in Scott's face, and the structure caves in towards him-- Duncan punched the door, exactly where Scott's face was.

"He'll get over it..." The redhead walks to the kitchen, grabs a soda casually, and heads outside.

He gets in his old, black Honda, a car so worn down that tape holds up three of the windows. Scott puts the key in the ignition, peels out of the driveway, and waits for Duncan to call. To apologize. To ask him to come back.

But no such call is made.

And Scott is left wondering, Did I do it this time? Did I piss him off so badly that he's really breaking up with me?

No. Of course not. Duncan revealed that he loved him, so how can he leave so easily?

But a week passes, and Scott's cell phone never chimes with the call of his delinquint boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend? The idea presents an all new terror. He has no one else to watch wrestling with (who shares his opinions, at least). He has no one left to calm him down when his mother is being pointlessly cruel. He has no one left in the world to tell him he matters, that he's not worthless, that they care. No one left to provide comfort when blind rage rears it's head because Scott is reminded of his long-dead "pappy".

And without Duncan, he'd have to live with his parents, which simply is not an option. In fact, Duncan had opened his utama to Scott upon hearing how badly the later's parents treated him...

Good God, how did he live without this man in his life?

So Scott finds himself heading to their house, standing outside in a muscle baju in the freezing Northern Ontario weather. He knocks on the door, waiting for an answer. There is none.

He backs up, looking directly at the bedroom window.

"Duncan!" he calls, not caring if the neighbors think he's crazy, "Duncan! Get the fuck down here!"

Still, no response. "Duncan! anda stupid delinquint, open the fucking door!"

A head pops out of the window. "I'm listening! And it better be good!"

Scott sighs. Apologizing is something he's not used to... But he's lebih sorry now than he's ever been. Then again, he rarely feels sorry for anything...

"I... I shouldn't have called anda weak! And you're right, it's not weak to care about someone, I guess..."

"You guess?"

"For God's sake, Duncan, I'm sorry! Just, please, let me back in the house! It's fucking freezing out here, and I didn't mean any of it!"

But he just stares down with a cold glare. Scott goes on:

"I'm really sorry! I don't... Fuck, this is going to sound cheesy as hell, but I don't wanna live without you!"

Duncan motions for him to go on.

"What else do anda want me to say, damn it?!" The ginger has a realization. "Okay. Fine. I l-love you. There."

"I can't hear you!"

"I berkata 'I Cinta you'!" As the words escape his lips, he can feel the alien feeling in his chest.

"I still can't hear you! Speak up!"

"Fuck you! anda know anda heard me!"

Duncan raises an eyebrow, and Scott concedes. He screams, loud enough to bother the neighbors' dogs, "I Cinta you, Duncan! I Cinta you!"

The raven-haired boy disappears back into the house.

"What, that's it? I say it and anda don't even accept my goddamm apology? Open the fucking door, you--"

The door swings open. "Why didn't anda say it the first time?"

The redneck looks away, almost sheepishly. "I guess... anda scared me, okay?"

There's a silence.

"Get in the house, dumbass. You're gonna freeze to death."

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