Work Text:
‘He had to be joking, right?’ are the six words repeated like a prayer in Mac’s mind, laying in his bed. Earlier that day Dennis had revealed himself as Johnny and Mac didn’t believe him because it was all so… confusing? Dennis is Johnny but then whose Dennis and who was Johnny? Mac famously—known both to himself and others—had a severe delay in comprehension. Dennis could tell him he fucking hated his guts and wanted him out of his life and until Dennis forced all of Macs shit out of the apartment and Mac sat on the side of the road would Mac think ‘Dennis hates me?’.
The concept of Dennis and Johnny was catching up to him now as Mac found himself unable to fall asleep; plagued by usual nightmares in his mind. Dennis had to be joking right? He had a sick sense of humor, sometimes. Dennis liked preying on women and fucking with people for an experiment, for thrills. So was Dennis fucking with him in a “i AM johnny” way or a “im NOT johnny” way? So confusing.
”I AM HIM” rang through his head.
Mac laid in silence before the silence became too loud and he left his shitty mattress. He bought a shitty mattress off of craigslist after the whole inflatable furniture phase he and Dennis had. It definitely had blood and cum stains on it but whatever. Mac had slept on worse.
The nightstand by his bed shook a bit as Mac kneeled before it. He kept a large crucifix leaned up against this really old and fucked up lamp Mac had got at a yard sale a couple years ago. Dennis didn’t want to let Mac get it because he said it was ‘trashy’ (“The lampshade is fucking ripped and some asshole drew a cock on it, Mac!”) but Mac really liked it. Somehow reminded him of his father? Not that he had ever expressed an interest in lamps or anything like that.
This lamp did work, however. Mac could plug it in and it would shine a yellow light at him. Not white like a holy light and maybe that was some sort of sign to from G-d to Mac. No light destined to shine upon Mac would be holy, only tainted ones were worthy.
Mac pushed his hands together, looking into the crucifix. Into the eyes of Jesus Christ. He breathed out.
“Um. Our father who art in heaven. Uh, Hey. Been-Been a minute. I dunno if i’ve talked to you like this since… well. Its just, its been a minute.” Mac stumbled through his words then sat in silence for a moment. Thinking G-d or someone would answer. He always thought that maybe someone would but no one ever did.
“Im having a tough time right now, I think.” Mac began. He thought of his next words and blushed prematurely. “I don’t wanna give you all the details but… I thought i was in love. Like, IN love, dude!” Macs eyebrows furrowed together as he looked down as his praying hands. His fingers dropped and he clasped his hands together, gripping the other hand tightly.
“I just don’t get why? Why didn’t it work out? why can’t I have that love people get in movies and sick fairytales? Like the rockstar sort of love that badasses in action movies get where they save the world and then bone a hot girl? Whats wrong with me?” Mac stopped. He was hyperventilating. Mac could feel a potential sob in the back of his throat and he realize he had squeezed his eyes shut hard enough his head was beginning to pound squeezed his hands together to tightly his own fingernails created dents in the back of each hand. Mac relaxed. Breathed. Relaxed his eyebrow muscles, let his eyes comfortably be closed and let his hands resume a normal praying position.
“Sorry. Don’t mean to be, i dunno… myself. Just. I don’t know, um..” Mac’s steam had blew out so he whispered quickly, “in-the-name-of-Jesus-and-in-the-power-of-the-holy-spirit-Amen.” Mac then breathed out, unclasped hands and wordlessly stared at his floor.
Dennis hadn’t been joking. It was clear now.
Mac didn’t want to think about it anymore. He looked up at his nightstand and sat up forward to check his phone. 3:46 am. Fuck, well, whatever. Mac climbed back into his bed and didn’t sleep at fucking all
—
Waking up HURT. Physically it was taxing. The light was in his face and his limbs were all twisted so his neck hurt and he couldn’t really move his arm to get leverage and the blanket was too feely and the sheets were to loose and-
“MAC! Come on, man! Its already seven thirty!”
Dennis’ voice could be heard at any place in their apartment and it made Mac wonder if he could be heard in the street. He didn’t know if he could force himself to get up today. If he could force himself to go to work with Dennis. Mac was fucking mad, really fucking mad at Dennis for real. He doesn’t really remember ever being this genuinely mad at him. Ever. The revelation of Dennis’ deception entered his brain the moment he woke up even through his fighting with his covers. Mac groaned loudly in response to Dennis.
That groan caused Dennis to open the door to Mac’s room and rip the blanket away from him. Mac wore blue boxers and a large black shirt—a old shirt he had worn back when he’d gained all that weight. It was too stretched out to wear now.
“Get up, Mac.” Dennis demanded but Mac didn’t react so Dennis grabbed Mac’s ankle and dragged him out.
“DENNIS!” Mac yelled, fed up. Mac fell to the floor very quickly and looked up at Dennis angrily. Sunlight surrounded Dennis as his back was to the partially sun blinded window. ‘Angelic, holy, pure’ are all words you could say entered Mac’s head.
“I told you to get the fuck up, asshole. Now get the fuck up, get dressed and meet me at the bar. Im not buying you breakfast again because we’re already late, jackass.” Dennis said without skipping a beat. He looked his watch really quick and then quickly walked out of Mac’s room and out of the apartment. Only when Dennis shut the apartment door did Mac’s brain catch up with Dennis’ words and did he shout “WE DON’T HAVE A TIME TO BE THERE, BITCH!”
No one heard him however.
No one who mattered