Just One More Hit and I'll Be Fine

“Frankie, baby,” you stammered, bending down so that I was forced to look into your blood-shot eyes. “I swear, baby, it was the last time! I just needed one more hit, Frankie, you have to understand that!”

You rested your hand on my cheek, leaning forward so that your breath washed over my face, making my stomach twist nauseously before I stepped back. “You said that last time, Mikey.”

“Shh,” you whispered, stepping forward until my back was pressed against the wall, your shaking hands resting on either side of my head as you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth. “The last time, Frankie, I promise.”

“You still love me, don't you?” you panted, pressing kisses down my jaw until you reached my neck, your coffee-stained teeth grazing the sensitive skin. I squeezed my eyes shut as your hands slipped beneath my t-shirt, your cold hands clashing horribly with my warm skin. “Because I still love you, Frankie. Always.”

I remained silent and unresponsive as you began to strip me of my clothes, your mouth working wonders on my skin as I let you have your way – again. I wouldn't call it rape; yes, I never wanted to have sex with you but that's only because you were high whenever we did. Call me a romantic, but I liked it when you actually remembered our times together.

When I fell onto the bed that we shared, all of our clothing gone except for our boxers, a whimper escaped my lips. “Please, Mikey, not today.”

“I'm making it better,” you murmured against my flesh, your tongue swirling around as your hand began to tug on my Batman boxers. “I'm making it right.”

“No,” I grunted, trying to squirm out from your body, “you aren't making it better, you're making things worse. Mikey-”

You successfully pulled the last piece of clothing down my legs, your large cold hands grabbing my limp dick, pumping it slowly. I let out a gasp, biting my lip at the feeling. “Mikey, please don't-”

“Just shut the fuck up, Frank,” you growled, biting my neck roughly as you struggled to remove your own boxers, tears filling my eyes as I tried to get away. “All you ever fucking do is fucking complain. If it's not about our lack of money, it's about the drugs or the fact that you think I don't love you. When I try to show you how much- stop moving! When I try to fucking show you that I do love you, you pull this shit!”

“You're hurting me!” I screamed, curling my hand into a fist and slamming it into the side of your face. “Get off me!”

“You like it rough, don't you? You little slut,” you hissed, gripping my hair tightly and yanking on the strands. “Come on, whore, moan! Moan, you fucker!”

“You're high!” I screamed, flailing my limbs around and successfully kneeing you in your manhood. I shoved you to the floor and scrambled for my boxers, running out of the room and into the bathroom, your footsteps not far behind me.

“Frank!” you screamed when I slammed the door in your face, locking it before sliding down to the floor, my body shaking as tears spilled down my cheeks. “Frank, open the fucking door right now!”

“If you weren't on drugs, you wouldn't be doing this right now,” I sobbed, moving over to the tub when the door began to shake. “I can't keep doing this, Mikey, I can't!”

“Frank,” you were crying now, I could tell. “Please, Frank, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, I was just trying to fix it. Please, baby, I love you. Open the door.”

“I hate you,” I whispered, touching my scalp gently and wincing from the contact. When I retracted my hand and saw the blood, all I could do was sigh. “Mikey, I can't do this. I have to leave, I have to.”

“No!” the door began to shake again, followed by several kicks. “Frank, I need you! Please, don't leave!”

After several silent minutes passed, I rose carefully onto shaking legs, wrapping my hand around the brass door knob and turning it slowly until I heard a click. I peaked through and saw you sitting on the floor with your head in your hands, body shaking; I couldn't tell if you were crying or if it was from the drugs.

“Mikey,” I whispered and your head snapped up, your honey-hazel eyes locking with mine instantly. You stumbled forward and wrapped your arms around my neck, sobbing loudly into my bare shoulder. “Mikey, you have to promise that this is the last time, all right? I don't want to lose you.”

All you could do was nod, pressing your lips to mine in a loving kiss, unlike the one from before. This kiss I returned; I even allowed your tongue to slip past my swollen lips, the taste of alcohol slowly fading.

I was an idiot.

You were a mess.

But we were in love.

We were two people who really shouldn't be together but we were together regardless of what anyone had to say. Alone, we were just a couple of fucked up boys with broken hearts, but together we were just fine.

Just F.I.N.E.