(I'm finally admitting it to myself that I'm having a dry season lol
Don't expect many real one shot chapters, however!
I am branching out and making a few more books!
The two I plan to post soon is a fandom and general jokes book called

You'll Only Understand This if....

And a book where I review really bad fan fictions! If you have one for me to look at and review, list it

HERE! :D

Okay, now that I'm done with my unnecessarily long A/N, here's a short shitchapter!))

James thought he had a pretty good life.
Keyword?
Had. Just a few months ago, everything had gone to shit. He was kicked out by his father, and was forced to take his boyfriend, Matthew, with him, when he went to find his mother. Matthew insisted on coming. He didn't want to lose James.
   The said Canadian sighed, as he completed his daily rounds. Matthew's family sucked anyway. There was so much verbal abuse. And because it wasn't psychical, no one would do anything about it.
   But James didn't mind. He wanted to bring Matthew along, but knew he couldn't. It was sort of a win for him, except that he still felt intensely bad for dragging him out here. At least they had found a place to stay.
   Deep in the forest, there was a log cabin. And old one, but safe and warm and sturdy, though James often had to take days off to squish all the gross bugs.
   The cabin helped, too. James could take a job as a Mountie in this forest, and Matthew would have somewhere to stay while he worked. It was cold, but it was what they had. And they cherished it. Most runaway couples didn't get this lucky.
   James thought about all this. Just simple, slightly depressing things. So he switched to thoughts of Matthew. Sweet, smiling Matthew. The little bird willing to follow him anywhere. He appreciated and cared for his little songbird. Always trying to make sure he was happy.
  And finally, he arrived home. It was dark. James started to panic, trying to calm himself down. He probably just went to sleep. James knew he needed to stop being so paranoid. Matthew was right on that one.
  He went up to his bedroom, and there was Matthew, asleep in the bed, the fireplace crackling warmly, washing Matthew's face with warm yellow-orange light, making the boy's sweet, sleeping, expression look sweeter.
Matthew had stolen all the blankets, but James didn't care.
He got in bed, pulled Matthew close gently, wrapped the blankets around them, and fell asleep.