"I don't care what you call me - the fact is that you weren't planning to tell me anything just after I said all that shit - are you even listening to anything I'm saying at all or am I just wasting my breath on you?"
When his brain-mouth filter kicked in, the 'if I knew you were going to be like this I would have never come down here, you fucking moron' got censored.
"Nevermind. It's not important. It's just little ol' me overreacting over you and your life."
Or maybe he just wasn't worth telling these things to - but he preferred the first option.
He headed into one of the bedrooms he left his bags in - hadn't even gotten the chance to crinkle the sheets too much since he got here - and the door slamming shut resounded in the silence.