|Not All Perfect
Author: AppLEaves PM
[Slash] I knew he was gay for a long time already. What I didn't know though... was who he was actually looking for. Warning: Insanely huge amounts of fluff... I think... [Complete]Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Humor - Chapters: 3 - Words: 12,960 - Reviews: 28 - Favs: 18 - Follows: 2 - Updated: 09-28-05 - Published: 07-06-05 - Status: Complete - id: 1956442
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Not All Perfect
04/29/05 – 07/06/05
"Roy… Please… I beg you. Take care of it. Cherish it with all your heart while I'm gone. For it is the most important thi-"
"Oh shut up."
"Royy…" The voice whined.
"It's just a guitar. Don't make such a fuss about it."
"It's not just a guitar!" The voice shrieked, outraged at my statement as if I just declared that I was going to sell the freaking guitar. "I had to sell Benny just to be able to pay for the thing!"
A smirk was coming up on my face. "So now it's a thing? And who the hell is Benny?"
Thomas Boer, my closest friend, just wrinkled his nose in disappointment. "I just told you two days ago that Benny was my old guitar. And don't call it a thing. It was just a slip of the tongue."
"Excuses, excuses." I brushed it off like one would do to a piece of lint. (If we had any lint here…) "Now… what time did you say that you had to leave?"
He smiled widely, as if he was keeping a secret from me. "I didn't tell you the time, yet. And it's 11:15."
"Then it's now." I say flatly.
His eyes widened. "What!?"
"Yep." I couldn't hide back the slightly gleeful tone of my voice.
"Shit." The word was spat out with as much irritation Mas could ever have, he doesn't have a lot I tell you, and he sprinted away towards the school's big entrance to get to his detention class on time. I don't know why the school calls it like that, but who am I to care?
Mas got in trouble by dumping his lunch on one of the cafeteria ladies. Actually, he screamed at her about the lack of health awareness and sanitation of the food that was served here before throwing his plate of Salisbury steak at her. Then he began a rant about overdose of iron and tin and how it killed some sailors in the Artic and shit. I remember all this because I was right behind him in the line.
And now, I wa-
"Wait…!!!!! Royce!! Royce! I forgot to tell you!" Mas suddenly appeared beside me, panting like crazy, and shocking the hell out of me. "Her name is Cherry and she is mon cherie." He said with a poor French accent. "And also because she is made of cherry wood. Do not hurt her or you'll answer to me."
Very unconvincing threat, mister. In this life, I have never seen Mas raise at fist at someone. He doesn't even poke people. Some people are just so weird.
"Ok. Ok." I stoically said. "Now scamper off. Shoo. Shoo." I drove him away, accompanied with the hand gestures.
Finally, he left with a grumpy attitude and a serious frown on his face.
As. If. I. Care.
At last, I was free, and I began to enjoy my temporary prize. Yanking off the pick that was attached to it, I began to grease up my rustiness at this.
So what if I took only two months of classes? Doesn't mean that I can't play, right?
Honestly, I like playing the guitar. But my latest teacher has scarred me permanently from playing the acoustic. Why? He gave me works like 'Puff the Magic Dragon' and 'Where Have All the Flowers Gone?' When I saw them, I was tempted to scream like a newborn kid. These writers for the songs were already dead! I ranted and raved at him about giving rights to hopeless teenagers and their taste in music and shit. I don't know why I did that. That's more of Mas's thing. But anyway, I stopped taking the stupid classes. I wasn't ready to play freaking rhyming songs about a crying dragon.
I know it's essential because it has all the easy chords and shit. But why Puff?
Slowly, I skimmed my fingers over the 1st string, relishing in the scraping metallic sound from the friction between my fingernail and the long string of metal. I noticed a deep indent in it, but I just brushed the notion off as usual.
I tried for the G chord this time, strumming the 6th to the 3rd strings first before I reached the 2nd and the 1st. Sureee…. I should've listened to my conscience like the other 10 billion people in the world who don't. But I didn't. And suddenly, the string snapped when I picked it right at the indent and I winced when the sharp, newly-broken off edge of the deadly metal wire grazed past my fingertips, leaving a trail of thin red liquid on it.
I was too busy trying to wipe off the seeping blood to notice that I had lost something during the commotion with Mas's now useless guitar.
"Ow shit! What the fucking hell was that!?"
Oh. My pick.
I didn't see who just shouted out that, a big fat tree was in the way. I tried craning out my neck like those flamingos you see on National Geographic. But the stupid tree was too chubby, so I didn't see him.
So I resorted to the sense of sound and yelled out, "If it's a pick, it's MINE."
"Hell yeah." Was the reply. Whoever that was, bent to pick up the piece of plastic and made his way through the overgrown grass in this area towards me. How did I know this when I couldn't even see him? Ears, duh.
I sat there patiently waiting for him to reach me. I didn't want to get off my ass yet. It's currently in love with the patch of grass I'm squashing under my weight and I didn't want to be someone resembling the jealous parent in Romeo and Juliet and break them up. I'm a romantic, so sue me.
"Hey. Deadly thing you've got here." He finally reached over to me and squatted down beside the discarded guitar, a distinct dark pinkish line running over his eyebrow. Probably from the said piece of plastic. Hah.
But the mark did nothing to dull the vibrant spark in his eyes, even though its shade was a grayish-green in color. His pale, creamy skin contrasted nicely with his milk chocolate hair that had a few buttermilk streaks in it that made his skin look a little tan. His face was immaculate, a slender oval-like shape with a trim nose and supple lips, his lower lip jutting out a bit, making him look childishly innocent, something that didn't really go with the sly smile on his lips.
I looked at him. I've seen him before! What was his name again? "Thanks." I took the pick from his outstretched fingers. "And it's actually the modernized form of ninja shurikens, but people found a better use for it. Such as, cutting up guitar strings." I motioned to the guitar as I cock my head to get a better view of his face, which was partly shadowed in little dots by the leaves of the trees overhead.
He smiled at my joke. "I'm James Kulvan. And I know that you were wondering who I was. I can tell."
Man. This guy has got to be psychic.
"And I'm not psychic. I just know how to read people well."
He shook his head and laughed at my features. "Trust me, I'm not from Pluto or the ambassador of the land of Gumbazombie. I'm a shrink's son."
"So…" I trailed off, not knowing what to say. It was weird, really, to find a person whom you can talk to this easily, not counting Bran and Mas. And James here was actually fun to talk to.
"Who are you again?" He slumped into the grass beside me, leaning against the tree, copying my posture.
I opened my mouth to speak. Hell, this guy must be living backwards to not know me. "I-"
"Royce Pearson. Sorry I forgot you. –add in a light chuckle- I'm a bit dizzified by the after-effects of an Umberized lecture right now." Good God. He read my mind again.
Umberson was one of the boringest and most senile teachers in the school. Her classes were actually only 40 minutes, but she makes it seem as if it was 4 hours. That's probably why there were so many requests for schedule change when the year started. The administration got so annoyed by the requests, that they absolutely refused any schedule changes for Umber anymore. The unlucky bastards who were too late got stuck in her classes for the whole year.
"Why are you wearing sleeves in the middle of summer?" I suddenly blurted out. I just couldn't keep it in me anymore. Just so you know, I hate long sleeves. I don't know why. Weird phobia, I guess.
He looked at me weirdly, as if a booger was hanging out of my nostrils and was dangling around in the wind. Ew. Bad image there. "Because I cut myself?" My jaw dropped involuntarily. Hell. He didn't seem like the cutter type. The world certainly has changed. God knows if the big sphere we think the world is actually a cube. He shook his head and snickered at my expression. "Just joking. I find that this actually makes me look sexy. Say I'm not and I'll grab this guitar and smash you on the head. Say I am, and I'll love you till the end of time."
I knew I had on a weird expression at his declaration. I just knew. Of course, everyone would if you met a guy like this.
He took one look at me and laughed. "So you'd better say nothing, cause both of them are just as worse as the other."
His laughter was contagious, and I'm afraid, I've already caught the disease.
Not that I dislike it. Nope. It's the other way around. We've talked for only a few minutes, or maybe just one minute, and I already saw him as a potential friend.
"Hey." His laughter faded when I spoke, but his lopsided grin was still there. "Wanna sit with me and my friends tomorrow?"
"Sure." He immediately answered. "Only if I can bring along two of my friends." I nodded. "And if you actually button up your shirt." He smirked at my shirt. So what was wrong with only buttoning 2 of the 6 buttons on it? The day's humid and excessively hot, okay?
I frowned and he noticed it. Chuckling, he swatted at my shoulder lightly. "Aww… c'mon baby, don't pout. I don't mind it today. It goes with your jeans. And I absolutely love torn jeans, especially on you babe." His tone grew flirtatious, which I didn't find weird at all, since he reeked of sexuality all by himself.
Since when did he stink of sex?
I must be imagining things…
Did it really appear on the screen up there?
"OH SHIT." He suddenly exclaimed and jumped up to his feet. "I forgot Mark!" And he took off racing.
He was moving way too fast for me to react accordingly, so when he was a few yards away already, did I stand up.
"Hey!" I hollered to his form that was stumbling away.
"Sorry about that! See you tomorrow!" His voice faintly called a good distance away.
I sank back down into the grass, happy with my new addition in my schedule and my eyes idly drifted to him, conversing to another guy frantically, probably the guy he just called Mark. Even from a distance, I could see his attire in clear view. Black form-fitting slacks that hugged a rather nice and firm- shut up-, long-sleeved baby blue shirt, which I agree does look good on him, and… oh god… Converses…
Don't look at me like that. I have a fetish for Converses, okay?
..But he does look damned sexy in them…
What the hell did I just say!?
"Hey there Roy." A voice called sweetly.
I spun around.
Oh. One of them again.
She giggled when I looked at her. "Do you want to go somewhere tonight? I know of this very-"
I interrupted her. "Not tonight Sasha. I'm busy."
Turning away when I saw her hurt look, I quickly put back my distance with my one-night stand.
Yeah. I just had a little fun with her two nights ago and I already made sure to leave before she woke up, but she somehow had gotten the impression that –girly breathy voice- we were meant to be. –change back to normal Royce voice- Rather stupid, in my opinion.
Mas jogged up to me. "Who was that chick?"
I shrugged noncommittally. "Sasha something. I didn't really ask for her name when I fucked her."
He smirked. "It's not Sasha. It's Natasha. And you really-"
"Should. Get. A. New. Hobby." I recited dully after hearing this phrase over and over again.
"Good to know that you know that. How about doing something about it? Has that ever crossed your mind?" He said sarcastically.
I shrugged again. "What can I do? The girls are throwing themselves at me all the time. Who am I to refuse their offers?"
He patted me on the back. "I thought you said that they were annoying. And besides, you've been playing single for like… what? 4 years since freshman year? That's waayy too long, in my opinion. It's time you get a girlfriend." He announced, determined.
Scowling, I retorted. "But I don't want the girl to believe that she can control my life and drag me to shop with her all the time. Besides, I'll cheat on her anyway and she'll be ranting and raving shit and I don't want to face that."
This time, Mas shrugged. "Then get a boyfriend then." And walked away quickly.
OoO. "MAAASSS!!!" I shouted down the hallway, shocked.
He looked over his shoulder and laughed, sending me into a fit of outrage at his joke and we began to play a testosterone-fueled game of tag in the school hallways until a teacher came and kicked us outside.
But somehow, looking back at what happened... when the word 'boyfriend' had been said by Mas, I couldn't suppress shivers running down my spine at the word and a familiar brown-haired, green-eyed face popped into my mind.
I sighed at his declaration. A declaration I've heard of a thousand times or so already. 'Ames squealed when I breathed in too deeply and flipped over on his stomach to press his chin into my ribs. Of course, it hurt, and I let out an agonizing groan, bouncing his head up and down on my stomach to try and relieve the pain.
'Ames didn't seem to mind, and laid there in the same position until I finished all my heavy breathing. Then he tilted his head to the side and laid his head to press its weight on his ear, which was right above my heart. We stayed there in the comforting silence, quiet.
"Your heart is beating really fast. Nervous?" His voice took on a soft tone.
"Yep." My fingers found his other ear and stroked the shell lightly. He giggled at the touch.
"Why?" I could feel the warm weight on my chest press in deeper, probably from his snuggling, which was exactly what he was doing now. A hand laid lightly under my ribs, making little random swirls and zigzag patterns with the heel of his hand. It slipped lower idly, carelessly rubbing across the slope of my stomach and his pinky grazed the patch of exposed skin between my boxers and my shirt, which had ridden up.
Now don't get me wrong. We're not couples. I am not gay.
James is just a person who likes physical contact. Actually, he craves for it. I don't mind. He's rather fun to be with.
I introduced him to Mas a few days ago. Instantly, right after Mas screamed at me for, I quote, 'sexually harassing' Cherry, he turned to James and swiftly began talking about some shit that was way to fast and squeaky for me to understand.
Of course… they bonded within the 3.5 seconds they were talking about 'Ames hair color, something I found out later on when 'Ames told me.
And now, we were at his house, one of the bigger houses in the neighborhood. But he wasn't bordering on filthy rich. His mom was just pretty well off. But he had the best taste in furniture and indoor decorations. This little rug was absolutely amazing to lie down on.
It's a nickname he thought up of. Don't look at me like that. I'm not that fond of food-producing grass. Yes. Did you know that even wheat is a type of grass?
"What?" I say gruffly.
"Anything interesting that I should know about?" He says distractedly, gazing pointlessly at the ceiling.
But to me, it seemed as if he was putting in a teasing and knowing hint in his words.
Because there is something interesting that he should've known a long time ago. Something that was I afraid to tell to others.
What the hell? Who said that?
James moved his head to look at me.
Oops… It was me?
"Umm… I have a discount for next sales for Aoi Aishiteru. I think it's 40 off until next week." I thought up quickly. "I might be able to get you a few dozen from that when my paycheck arrives."
A squeal emitted from somewhere near the vicinity of my stomach. No. My stomach did not squeal. 'Ames did.
"What!? Yaaayyy!!!" The human being whom was formerly resting his head on my stomach suddenly jumped on top of said stomach and crushed my upper torso in a fierce bear-hug from two gangly arms.
Now let me explain, Aoi Aishiteru was a little manga store. Of course, it was Japanese. The thing is, 'Ames had took a liking to the cozy little place and had always wanted to go there and ravish all of its comics by the ton.
But the problem is… well… his parents didn't allow him to go out by himself. You could say that his mom didn't always had time to pick him up and stuff. His life was pretty boring. And also, he couldn't just go out and buy these kinda stuff easily. It could take months before his mom could drive him to AA. And besides… you see… the stuff he buys is rather… inappropriate.
Oh alright, I'll just spill it out. 'Ames is gay. He came out to me a few months earlier and I don't really mind. But what I mind though, was that since he couldn't buy 'stuff' he always sends me to buy it. Such as… gay comics, gay magazines, gay porn, lubricant and don't forget, my credit card number to get access to gay porn sites.
Why does he have to buy lube? He isn't having any sex, right?
Oh well… Doesn't matter, does it?
Anyway, in short, he was draining my monetary supply with his gay shit.
Not that I have anything against gays, but 'Ames is annoying the fuck out of me.
Oh wait… and another downside… or maybe not…
When I buy these stuff for him, not only the people at the register give me weird looks, but I have to look at the stuff to make sure it's "graphic" enough for 'Ames. And man, does he like graphic. He loves bondage sex, SM, some pedophilic themes and a whole lot of stuff I shouldn't mention here. It's only M rated, you know.
So… the point is… I've seen too much gay-related stuff, I'm afraid that I'm becoming……
-:Aww… am I interrupting you? Sorry about that, but I don't have any other methods for cliffies in one-shot stories.:-
School: Tealhum High
Status in said high school: I'd say senior. But sometimes, I'm not sure myself.
Hair: Black, well spiked enough to kill.
Eyes: Lovely shade of pale grey.
Form: Well-built. Tall, lean and tall tall tall.
Activities: Oh ho. Basketball team. Co-captain. And there's also the usual monthly fling and one-night stands.
Favorite brand name: I don't really care. Quiksilver.
Favorite color: Burnished bronze. It's the really sexy color all the Greek Herculean statues have.
Favorite food: Umm…. Psst… don't tell anyone… bread with strawberry jam. But usually I tell the girls I like crackers and peanut butter.
Likes and dislikes:
Hates: Belted pants above the navel, long-sleeved shirts, dried ketchup at the rim of the bottle, sappy chick movies.
Family: Dad- utter asshole, demanding and sucks shit at parental skills. That's why I moved out.
Mom- in Boston with step-father, who is actually a much nicer guy than Dad.
Jobs: Employee at a CD store. But money from Mom definitely helps.
Social status: I'm not being cocky, but I could be called one of the 'gods', the elite. Girls fawn over my looks. But I actually have only two close and only friends, other than 'Ames.
Friends: I knew I had to fill this one out so I didn't mention them up there.
Brandon Rupert: A 'friend'. Can be trusted to take me back home after a party without getting too annoyed at me. But not as close as Mas.
Thomas Boer: Closest friend. We met in middle school and we're still stuck together.
James Kulvan: The guy I almost skewered with my plastic pick.
Lastly, before you get irritated at the innocent paper and rip it up into shreds. Grades:
Mostly B's. Some lucky A's from Music and Literature. And besides, I know the paper is innocent. And don't get that kind of idea that I'm a short-tempered bastard. I'm not.
And I know that you're grumbling about my earlier question, even though I wrote this for you to fill out before I could see what you wrote. And besides, I'm the author of this story.
Yes ma'am. Psychotic psychic.
I heard that. Shut up.
School: Tealhum High
Status in said high school: One of the wittle junies!
Hair: Blonde-brown, quite wavy and bouncy and touches the ear a bit. I love my hair.
Eyes: Very pretty grey-green eyes. I love my eyes too.
Form: I'd say slim, slender, and really willowy. I'm not tall, but I'm not short. Average, I guess.
Activities: Volleyball's my life. I'm the team's best spiker, the guy who always jumps up and hits the amazing balls. Heh.
Favorite brand name: Abercromie and Fitch, Defry 01… Heh. I know. I'm a prep… oooh wait… GAP!!!
Favorite color: Smokey-blue. Like the color of the sky before a storm, the murky color of a clear lake... Awww… poetic.
Favorite food: My mom always grumbles when I forget my breadsticks in the chocolate milk. Yeah. I eat them. I just forget that I'm going to consume them sometimes.
Likes and dislikes:
Likes: Torn shirts… (it exposes!), chainy bracelets, big bouncy beds
Hates: Shirts those are unbuttoned to the navel (too sexy), too many chains around neck (I like chains, but not around the neck), action/semi-sex/sci-fi/more than three hours movies (too annoying)
Family: Mom- single parent, hippy cool, understands the need to go party. She's the best mom anyone can have… but being the CEO of a large company has its downfalls.
Jobs: No job. My life is as boring as pint fat-free milk.
Social status: I have my own little buddy circle of three. But I know a lot of people in the school. I just don't act popular… I guess. I don't really like most of the 'elite'. Too arrogant to cope with. Well… maybe except Rice.
Friends: Mark Wilson: A really funny and rather crazy guy. He made me laugh for three consecutive minutes when we first met, so now he's my friend. You can't really be in a bad mood around him.
Benjamin Pilter: Very studious and insanely quiet. But when he's provoked by none other than Mark, his humor is so dry but incredibly sarcastic, he can get as funny as Mark sometimes.
Royce (Rice) Pearson: The guy who almost skewered me with his pick.
-:Aww… aren't they cute?:-
"OH MY GOD!!! THIS IS SOOOO CUTE!!!"
"'Ames… calm down…" I call tiredly from the head of his bed where I was resting.
"B-But… it's so cute! C'mere!!!" He cried jovially from his seat in front of the computer.
Sighing heavily from the effort of moving, I crawled over to the screen. Ooh… surprising… there's no gay porn site up and about… weird…
"Here! Look! The teacher just brained the kid with a huge paper tube! And the mangaka drew him out so cutely!"
Yeah… that was what he was reading… comics online. Hey… wait… he's saved it into his computer! Downloads?
"And here…" 'Ames suddenly closed the picture window and opened a series of folders to another one and double clicked on another picture, which immediately popped up.
This page featured a scene where the mentioned teacher and kid were experiencing the morning-after moment. The teacher (shockingly, was the uke) was surveying his body with lots of anime sweat drops cause…
"… My god… I wish I had a guy who would cover my chest with kiss marks like that… sigh…" 'Ames mumbled wistfully beside me… trying to hide his heaving exhale.
"Aww… is my little ladybird lonely? Now where's the tube of lube I bought you? Isn't that supposed to satisfy you for now?" I say in a mocking patronizing tone, teasing him.
"…But… I don't want a one-night stand." He still whispered in his deadly-serious voice, which meant that he was really being serious. "I want to practice monogamy. I want to find the right one. And you know that he's going to be hard to find."
"Aww… c'mon… what about tomorrow I take you to the mall or something to shop for guys, how's that?" I hugged him comfortingly. "Maybe he's hiding in one of Old Navy's dressing rooms, who knows?"
-:Surprisingly, Old Navy seems to be practically non-existent here. I can't find it at all.:-
"If he's that guy I spied on working in Hot Topic… maybe." He giggled into my collarbone and let go of my shoulders reluctantly. "What about you Rice? I don't want you to waste your time looking for the One for me while you suffer from lack of vaginas."
"Nah… if you haven't noticed already… which you should… I already attract way too many vaginas."
Way, way, way too much.
Heaving a mock-sigh, "I agree… get some dick and some ass. That'll cheer you up." He smirked at me lightly.
Playing along, I bent down and whispered in his ear, "Why should I? When I already have a perfectly cute ass right here." And for emphasis (and partly for self-pleasure) I bent down and pinched his butt… and yes… I admit, it was cute.
"Eeeee!!!" He squealed, giggling… a sweet and melodic litany to my ears. "Oh you charmer you!" He girlishly laughed and swatted my arm teasingly.
"I try." I said, huskily, playing along. "After all… I aim to please." I whispered this part in his ear in a gravelly voice, designated to arouse.
And arouse him I did. 'Ames blushed, streaks of pink shooting across his delicate cheekbones. His hands fisted on top of his jeans as he whimpered, eyes fluttering almost shut. "Then please me more."
"Of course." I growled seductively, as lustily as I could, which was quite a lot. Not only did I really arouse him, but I was… oh shit… aroused too.
Oh god… this isn't happening! You hear me god? This isn't happening!!!
"Rice…? Come closer…" Whispering softly, he fully closed his eyes and blindly groped for my shoulders, pulling me down.
My eyelashes were in the way, but I could still see clearly, the object in 'Ames lap… or the object under 'Ames pants… oh holy shit… but it seemed as if my hands had other plans…
For they had slid from his thigh and moved to the front of his jeans, grabbing the bulge there firmly, drawing out a breathy gasp from 'Ames. He had never sounded more prettier than this. Two hands swiftly clutched at my fisted hand, coaxing it into a tighter grip. 'Ames was now moaning and panting like nuts, his head had lolled back against his chair, eyes now brimming with tears, though it contrasted sharply with the dazed grin on his face. The bright lighted-up eyes pierced sharply into me making my hand numb, now unable to feel the bucking of hips under it. Actually, those eyes, that smile, the look, was switching off everything in me, sending only pleasurable chills and shivers all over.
All too quickly, his body started jerking and twitching uncontrollable. His dark-haired head fell lightly on my shoulder and teeth clumsily nipped at the fabric of my T-shirt, clenching the cloth somewhat tightly.
"Oh god, Rice… Rice! I'm gonna… I'm going to- Aahhhh!!" He suddenly screamed against my shoulder. His whole body suddenly curled up and he screamed out loudly, ejaculating under the worn denim I was clutching.
Oh my god… what am I doing!?
"Rice? Rice? Darling… what-" His voice suddenly softened as he turned to look at me. Apparently, he just saw my shocked and horrified look. Slowly, the hands over mine let go of their grip, their owner still looking at me blankly, as if our amazing action before had been wiped out of his memory.
Wait… amazing action!?
"Fucking hell!" I suddenly exclaimed, still freaked out and apparently, wasn't really thinking of what I was saying, "I'm sorry! I shouldn't have- uh… Forget it! Please!"
With a last parting shout, I quickly dashed out of the room, leaving back a startled 'Ames behind.
Oh god… what was I doing?
"Fucking hell! I'm sorry! I shouldn't have- uh… Forget it! Please!"
Right after the screamed yells, the sounds were accompanied by the slamming of a familiar door. My door.
What the hell just happened…?
Did I really… lose control like that?
And all of the time I had thought he was secretly liking me… the amused glances, the quiet stares… also, the barely hidden admiration and appreciation… or was it just me…?
Sighing, I tried to flex the feeling back into my fingers, but suddenly, my throat restricted any movement and I panicked, not before a dry sob heaved out of me.
But as soon as it left me, plenty more took its place, and soon, my body was racking with heavy wet sobs that both scared and humiliated me even further. I couldn't see, only clutch onto my damp jeans, soaked with tears and cum...
I shouldn't have…
Shortly, I was crying… big heaving chokes and splutters that were going to ache my whole body later. My lungs were rasping and bruising from my too-deep breathing. But right now, I couldn't care less, I was throwing everything away, away into the wind, losing myself in this over-whelming self-pity and shame…
…Stupid stupid idiot…
…So this is what it feels like to fall from heaven…
… I love you, Rice…
A/N: Sorry… I know I've been procrastinating, but this is why…
Like… don't like? Tell me.