I tried SO HARD to be normal about this but you know what? No! I am NOT normal about most things and ESPECIALLY about this so let’s fuckin talk about it or whateva. (or like. see for yourself??)
Wayne. Wayne McCullough. Fucking WAYNE. That crazy fool that will come to your house. Now you might be wondering, op, what the fuck is a Wayne? THIS. THIS IS A FUCKING WAYNE.
There is SO FUCKING MUCH I could say about Wayne, and I’ll get it all out of my system eventually, but let’s start out with the obvious. This man is a fucking LEGEND. A rap sheet as long as his mangled right arm, probably been fingerprinted for as long as he’s been finger painting. His first word was fucker. Wayne is a man of action. A man of few words who would rather just beat someone’s face in with whatever the nearest object is (or the hammer he keeps on him. Or his nunchucks. Or his other nunchucks. or-) for hurting someone or trying to hurt someone in any capacity. It’s just the natural course of action. Why use lot word when few word do trick, but in Wayne’s case the few word that does the trick is subtly baiting the asshole into throwing the first punch -technically the first several - so that whatever the fuck he does after that is self defense.
You know the whole if he wanted to he would thing??? WAYNE DOES. AND HE DOES. Wayne actually cannot look directly at you most of the time. He literally can’t. He just cannot process how beautiful you are in the most raw and original meaning of the word. You look like how good things smell. Wayne wants to metaphorically bury his nose in you and breathe you in until he chokes. He thinks he’d like it too. And guess what? You NEVER have to ask him for a goddamn thing. Wayne doesn’t always have practice when it comes to showing you how he feels about you in a romantic context. He doesn’t really know how to be a boyfriend yet. But good GOD he has all the right fucking instincts. Don’t be surprised if the first morning you spend together, regardless of if you had sex or just crashed at the same place, you wake up to find coffee and cereal, maybe a granola bar or something. Hell, he’ll break out leftover takeout from last night if that’s what’s on hand. But he sets it up for you. He goes outside and picks a couple of those little flowers that grow on curbs and in sidewalk cracks, the ones that are really small and probably weeds, but are still flowers regardless. He puts them in water, either in a comically too large beer bottle for such small flowers or in a plastic novelty shot glass he found lying around somewhere.
There’s no big flashy good morning my darling, your handsome lover made you breakfast in bed, no loud declaration. There’s just Wayne standing there and watching you like he’s trying to tell if you approve or not. He looks like a little kid giving their first schoolyard crush a hand made valentine with a little lollipop taped inside and a notecard that says you’re so sweet, I’m dumdum for you! Wayne wants to please you. And if he doesn’t, he’ll keep trying until he figures out how to. He is NOT afraid to claw his way through two feet of solid steel if it means getting to see your face.
HE’S SUCH A LITTLE FUCKIN WEIRDO TOO. Do you know anything about Conan the Barbarian, where to get those huge beef jerky sticks, or metal music?? “...no?” WELL YOU’RE GOING TO!!!!!! Wayne is just. He’s a little freak. And you MATCH HIS FREAK to a degree neither of you knew was possible. It doesn’t matter if you’ve never moshed a day in your life, or ever had the desire to before now. Wayne goes out of his way to dance in a room full of people at some party or event because some guy at the gas station said girls or romantic partners or whoever you are to him like it when guys dance with them, so now he’s dancing. He’s dancing awkwardly and terribly, like a clumsy rendition of saturday night fever in the pit of a punk concert. And he doesn’t really care if he’s good or not, he cares about the fact that it’s you that he’s doing this for. He’s so fucking sincere and earnest and shameless. You point him in a direction and he’ll floor it. He’ll floor it like he’s in a stolen gold ‘79 Trans Am or whateva.
Yes he WILL try to court you like a bird. Boystrous dances. Bringing you things. Getting you anything you might mention even SLIGHTLY wanting or needing. And guess what???? You cannot stand to see him be the only one dancing like that for more than a few seconds before you’re joining him. It doesn’t matter if you’re good or not either. You’re matching his freak. You’re accepting his bird-like courting rituals. Wayne will choke down 3 or 4 cups of coffee so vile he thinks he’d rather drink actual drain fluid, and he’ll do it with a smile in his eyes because he gets to drink coffee WITH YOU.
He’s so goddamn smart and just. He’s preoccupied with you. He’s enamored. He loves you. And once he realizes that feeling he gets around you is love, he’ll also realize that his feelings for you that hit him like a pick up truck t-boning a stolen gold ‘79 trans am are EXACTLY the same as they’ve always been. That he’s been In Love with you, that he’s Loved You the whole time. He hasn’t known you without loving you for a minute. He’ll be waiting patiently for you to find that out at your own pace, too. But you’ll probably spend most of that time trying to figure out why the FUCK he looks so hot beaten up and covered in blood. He should not look that hot covered in blood. You should not be turned on by watching him simultaneously beat someone’s ass and get his own ass beat. What the fuck is wrong with you.