Kisses On The Necks Of Best Friends
You Little Fag...
"What!? What did you say?!" he yelled, his words slurred by the alcohol on his breath. He stumbled over towards me. My body seemed to be detached from my brain. My head said 'RUN' but I was frozen in fear. Raising a hand, the man hit me on the cheek so hard that I crumpled to the floor. After by past experiences, I knew immediately that this was the wrong thing to do. He kicked me in the stomach a couple times and said,
"You baby. You little fag."
He staggered out of the room. I sat up and wiped the blood from my mouth. At least I hadn't cried. I would never give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I crawled over to the stairs and scrambled up them as fast as I could without causing my ribs too much pain. I had past experiences with him. I clambered into the bathroom and locked the door. I turned on the water in the bathtub and stripped out of my clothes. I lay there for a long time, sobbing uncontrollably. When the water finally got cold I got out, pulled the plug, threw on some black boxers and some jeans (not bothering with a shirt) and sat on the toilet. I was out of tears but I couldn't stop crying. I continued with my dry wracking sobs. I still couldn't believe my life. Here are some things wrong with it;
1. My father beats me.
2. My mom left the family when I was 12
3. I think I might love my best friend.
Yeah. The scary part? My best friend is a guy. In case you didn't know, I'm George Ryan Ross III, and my best friend is Brendon Urie. Yeah. Panic! at the Disco, I know, whatever.
Whenever Brendon is around, I get the butterflies, the shaking hands, the blushing, the stuttering, the whole deal.
Ross, what are you thinking? *mental slap* you are not falling for Brendon, you are a perfectly normal straight guy who likes girls!
I sighed and cried all the harder. Why does it have to be with all the emotional problems?
Just when I got ready to leave the bathroom I heard a knock on the window. I looked over and there was Brendon. I opened the window and he climbed into the room. He looked at me with sadness in his eyes. Wow he looked great in his black skinny jeans and his green t shirt and-
Stop thinking these thoughts!
He stood there and I sat back on the toilet.
"Your dad?" he asked softly. I wonder how he knew. I never told anyone, I just said I was clumsy. I nodded, tears coming to my eyes and one dripping down my face. He comes over to me with arms open. I get up and accept his embrace. I somehow end up on his lap on the toilet crying into his shoulder. He stroked my hair and rubbed my back comfortingly. It felt good to have someone care about me. But there with Brendon, I think I might have felt a little too good...
"You baby. You little fag."
He staggered out of the room. I sat up and wiped the blood from my mouth. At least I hadn't cried. I would never give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I crawled over to the stairs and scrambled up them as fast as I could without causing my ribs too much pain. I had past experiences with him. I clambered into the bathroom and locked the door. I turned on the water in the bathtub and stripped out of my clothes. I lay there for a long time, sobbing uncontrollably. When the water finally got cold I got out, pulled the plug, threw on some black boxers and some jeans (not bothering with a shirt) and sat on the toilet. I was out of tears but I couldn't stop crying. I continued with my dry wracking sobs. I still couldn't believe my life. Here are some things wrong with it;
1. My father beats me.
2. My mom left the family when I was 12
3. I think I might love my best friend.
Yeah. The scary part? My best friend is a guy. In case you didn't know, I'm George Ryan Ross III, and my best friend is Brendon Urie. Yeah. Panic! at the Disco, I know, whatever.
Whenever Brendon is around, I get the butterflies, the shaking hands, the blushing, the stuttering, the whole deal.
Ross, what are you thinking? *mental slap* you are not falling for Brendon, you are a perfectly normal straight guy who likes girls!
I sighed and cried all the harder. Why does it have to be with all the emotional problems?
Just when I got ready to leave the bathroom I heard a knock on the window. I looked over and there was Brendon. I opened the window and he climbed into the room. He looked at me with sadness in his eyes. Wow he looked great in his black skinny jeans and his green t shirt and-
Stop thinking these thoughts!
He stood there and I sat back on the toilet.
"Your dad?" he asked softly. I wonder how he knew. I never told anyone, I just said I was clumsy. I nodded, tears coming to my eyes and one dripping down my face. He comes over to me with arms open. I get up and accept his embrace. I somehow end up on his lap on the toilet crying into his shoulder. He stroked my hair and rubbed my back comfortingly. It felt good to have someone care about me. But there with Brendon, I think I might have felt a little too good...
♠ ♠ ♠
comments are the sex.:D