I'm a Fucking Fag, and I Love You
A Billie/Mike 169 word drabble that's oh-so-easy to read. It's a coming clean fic, if you catch my drift.
Love is stupid.
I've come to that conclusion.
Love isn't real.
But I don't really believe that.
Because if it wasn't real, I wouldn't feel like this.
I wouldn't imagine his hands on me, instead of her.
I wouldn't have cried about that look on his face, his lips curled, his eyes clouding over.
“Repeat what you said.” It wasn't a question.
“I don't like girls.” I didn't stutter.
“Are you-Jesus Christ, Billie! You're not fucking queer.”
“I've never been more sure of anything in my life.”
“Well. I've got to go. I've got a date with a woman. You stay here and be queer.”
“I will.”
And then he turned to leave.
“I'm in love with you. I want to be with you.”
He turned back to me.
“I want to fuck you. I love you. I'm a fucking fag, and I love you.”
He punched me and was long gone when I regained the strength, both mental and physical, to pull myself up off of my bedroom floor.
Love is stupid.
I've come to that conclusion.
Love isn't real.
But I don't really believe that.
Because if it wasn't real, I wouldn't feel like this.
I wouldn't imagine his hands on me, instead of her.
I wouldn't have cried about that look on his face, his lips curled, his eyes clouding over.
“Repeat what you said.” It wasn't a question.
“I don't like girls.” I didn't stutter.
“Are you-Jesus Christ, Billie! You're not fucking queer.”
“I've never been more sure of anything in my life.”
“Well. I've got to go. I've got a date with a woman. You stay here and be queer.”
“I will.”
And then he turned to leave.
“I'm in love with you. I want to be with you.”
He turned back to me.
“I want to fuck you. I love you. I'm a fucking fag, and I love you.”
He punched me and was long gone when I regained the strength, both mental and physical, to pull myself up off of my bedroom floor.