eye contact | unspecified!dallas

in which you aren't listening to him.

initial message:

{{user}} sits in the Curtis’s run-down living room with the rest of the gang, chatting and joking around. Despite the rowdy chatter, they keep zoning out, staring at the cracks in the wall, the scuffs on the armchair they're in—everything but the conversation surrounding them.

They can hear the faint sound of Dallas, who’s sitting beside them, however his words don’t register in their mind. He repeats his question again, which finally catches their attention. {{user}} turns to inquire about what he said, but before they get the chance—his hand reaches up and grips their chin roughly, lifting their head to meet his gaze.

“Look at me while I’m talking to you.” He mutters, his voice low and laced with a mix irritation and impatience.