The ride home felt odd to say the least. Not only was it weird to drive by myself again after so long, but I just felt strange after leaving Marshall. It was like I wanted nothing more than to stay there with him, but also like I couldn't wait to get away from him. Not exactly a good mix. I missed him, but the tension between us earlier was just so unsettling. It wasn't natural and I didn't like it.

As soon as I got home I went upstairs and changed, hoping to please the OCD thoughts in my head. Voices, I've grown to call them. Every time I went out they complained about letting germs in, so changing as quick as I could was something I felt necessary. I couldn't let the germs get on my things. Germs mean they could get me sick and if I get sick I'll die. Glob, I sounded like a crazy person. Honestly, I sounded like Marshall Lee. He used to talk about the voices in his head and how they told him some weird shit. I never understood until recently and now I know why he used to call himself crazy too.

I hated how much I thought about him, how much I cared about him when it felt like he didn't even give one shit about me anymore. I didn't want to sound like that person but I've done a lot for him, and what did I get in return? A broken heart and reappearing mental problems. Thanks a lot, pal. But will that stop me from continuing to think and care about him constantly? Sadly, nope.

With an exasperated sigh, I flopped backwards on my bed, ruining the perfectly made comforter. I tried to silence my mind before the voices even came. I wasn't in the mood to listen to pesky complaining right now. Though that's the thing about issues like these, you're never in the mood for them. All I wanted to do was mope and regret my life decisions in the comfort of my own room. Was that too much to ask? Apparently it was; There was a soft knock on my door.

"Honey? You okay? How was your first time driving again?" Pepper asked with a calm voice, sounding a little tired. I sat up in bed, watching her softly shut my door; she knew I needed it to be closed at all times.

I shrugged my shoulders when she sat down next to me, fixing her robe around her. Pepper was on the list of people who were allowed to touch me and my things. "I'm fine," I said. "Driving went better than I thought it would." Despite the whole ride just being me worried about crashing the car or trying not to die of awkwardness with Marshall, it wasn't horrible I guess.

"That's good. Did you have any of those... bad thoughts while driving?" Pepper asked in a cautious voice. My eyes focused on something elsewhere. Sometimes when my OCD gets really bad, my brain likes to project these bad and sometimes violent or disturbing thoughts and ideas. My psychiatrist called them 'intrusive thoughts' and said they were completely normal for someone like me to have; that I wasn't crazy for sometimes thinking about harming my self or other people. Having those thoughts didn't mean I actually wanted to do them (hence the reason why they're called 'intrusive').

"Only a couple," I admitted. Luckily those severe horrible thoughts were pretty rare for me; my OCD is mostly around contamination, with some added fun of checking things repeatedly. My psychiatrist also said it was good to have someone else to talk to about these things. Pepper was definitely trustworthy and really cared about what was going on in my head; even if she didn't really understand, she wanted to be there for me. "They suggested I crash the car right after I left the house. Then once again when I was with Marshall but that's it." 'They' being the 'voices'/ intrusive thoughts. Luckily I was able to block them out after a while.

Pepper sighed sort of sadly, "Oh, Barnaby." Her face looked like a mix of hurt and nervous. "No more driving for a while, alright?"

"Fine by me." Driving sucks.

"How did being alone with Marshall go?" Pepper continued on the conversation. She clearly was curious and I couldn't blame her. I made some weird decisions tonight.

I lied back on my bed again, already exhausted from just hearing his name. "Honestly, not as horrible as I was expecting. It was awkward, obviously, but I thought it went well."

"Does he seem better?"

I thought back to his behavior. He did seem pretty happy after he warmed up to me a little. He laughed a few times, even danced around after I got the car unlocked. "Yeah I'd say so. At least he made it seem like it." That gave me a little hope for our future.

Pepper nodded. "That's good. I still hate him for what he did to you but I'm glad he's getting healthy." I smiled a little. I love this woman. "You think you two are gonna stay friends after this or what? I don't know if I trust him enough with your heart again..."

"Too late for that. That thing is his forever and there's no getting it back." I didn't even have to look to see Pepper roll her eyes. "I'm being serious! I can't get over him and I never will. I just have to accept it. He has my heart and I don't care what he does with it. This is my fate."

"Barnaby, that's horrible!" She smacked my leg. "You're still so young, don't say things like that. I know he's your first love and all and you think he's the one, but don't be so quick to give your heart up like that. You have time, there's no need to rush into that."

I knew what Pepper was saying but I wasn't in the mood to hear it. She was telling me that I should be consider moving on, but there was no way that was going to happen. "You don't understand, Pep. Even if we just stay friends for the rest of eternity, there's no way I'll be able to ignore my feelings for him. I just can't."

The woman sighed. "I know you really love him, but this isn't the end." I rubbed my face with my hands. This is not what I wanted right now. "This is hard for me too alright, I don't like seeing you this upset over some stupid boy."

"I can't help it!" I said exasperatedly. "I'm sorry, okay? I don't know what to tell you. You think I'm gonna get over him soon and everything will be fine and I'll find someone better and blah blah blah. But I don't want that! It's never gonna happen. I just want Marshall." I crossed my arms over my chest, staring up at the ceiling. Glob, I sound like some tumblr hoe. The spot where Pepper was sitting lifted up and I turned to look.

She stood, walking towards my door. "It's late, I'm not going to fight you about this anymore. I'm just trying to help you not be so heartbroken." I almost responded with something snarky but choked it down. It was too late for this. With that, Pepper left my room. I groaned and rubbed my face. What was her problem, all I said was that I'm too head over heels for him to just let him go like that. Whatever.

I hated Marshall so much. I despised him, actually. But that didn't stop me from being absolutely infatuated with him. As I lie there on my bed, I went over everything that happened not that long ago. Marshall's rambled apology was thing that stuck out to me the most. And the fact that he thought I hated him. Which I did, but not literally. I hated the things he did, and things he makes me feel for him, but not he himself. Just imagining him sitting up at night, unable to sleep over the thought of me hating him and never wanting anything to do with him anymore broke my heart a little.

Glob damnit. Here I go feeling bad for him again. Good lord I just can't control my feelings about him anymore. I'm all over the place. One second I'm cursing him for being the fucker he is, then the next I'm pitying him for shit he deserves. Get it together, man!

Getting uncomfortable laying on my back, I rolled over on my stomach, staring at my pillows. I needed to think about that monologued apology he said in the car. There was a lot he said sorry for, I honestly don't remember all of it. But I know the main idea was that he knew he fucked up and felt bad about it. I tried reassuring him that it was alright, but of course it wasn't actually. I was still mad at him for selfishly breaking us up, but I did appreciate the fact that he acknowledged his 'mistake'. Though I'm not sure if he's planning on trying to fix that any time soon...

Maybe just staying friends will be alright. It'll at least be better than what he's been doing lately, which was avoid me. Being good friends would mean I'll still get to be with him. I wouldn't be able to love on him or call him mine, but who says we can't be platonically affectionate? That's how we were when we first became friends. He'd always have his dumb arm over my shoulders, or one of us would sit with our legs across the other's. Normal friend stuff.

Ugh, but there's no way I'll be able to be satisfied with just that. Two years ago I felt lucky by just getting a simple high-five from him. But if I was to receive that same gesture now, I'd just feel heartbroken. Not only would it leave me longing for more of his touch, but it'd feel like... the universe's way of mocking me. Like "hey! Here's a friendly little gesture to remind you that you're just friends and will stay just friends forever! Wow it's almost like you were never romantically involved with each other at all!"

Alright good glob calm the hell down, it's not that deep, Barnaby. I sat up normally, shaking my head at myself. Glob, I'm pathetic. Getting worked up over a fucking hypothetical high-five. I need to go to bed or something, this is just getting ridiculous. Oh but not before my nightly routine, can't forget to spend hours doing that. (As if my mind would let me forget.) I rolled my eyes and made my way to my bathroom.

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I was finally in bed, comfy, cozy, and most importantly, clean. I guess one good thing about having annoying, obsessive thoughts about germs was that they overpowered the ones about Marshall Lee. Sometimes. And by good, I mean still absolutely horrible. You know how much it sucks to constantly hear "if you don't clean this certain thing, you or someone you love will catch a horrible disease and die"? It sucks a lot, that's how much. These thoughts/voices were so stupid, I hated how they could just manipulate me like this. Of course I know nobody will die just because I refuse to wash my face for the third time. But there's always that "what if" that gets me every time.

Life really sucks. Living in almost constant fear of getting sick sucks. And life without Marshall Lee sucks too. I don't know what it is, but every time I'm with him my mind just goes silent for once. It's like I'm free from myself and I can finally catch a break. Usually. I still have a fear of something bad happening to him. Those are the thoughts that really make me have to act on my compulsions, I could never risk something happening to him. And I definitely couldn't live with myself knowing that it was "my fault."

There was still some time to kill before I could sleep so I decided to waste it on my phone, scrolling through people's selfies and memes. Oh wait, Fionna did a live-stream earlier. And if Marshall was with her then that means he was most likely in it... I need to watch it.

I found her profile and proceeded to watch the livestream she did hours ago. It started off with Fionna setting her phone up on her desk and Marshall sitting in the back on her bed. Hold up hold up... is he wearing what I think he's wearing...? Holy shit. I'm so fucking gay right now. I think I'm gonna bust a nut. Now that's just not fair, who gave him the right to look so hot in women's clothes? My glob, looks like there's definitely no getting over him now.

I skipped ahead some. Marshall was now sitting next to Fionna at her desk, tying back the front of his hair as she sang some made-up song in the wrong key. Ugh I love when his hair is out of his face. I skipped ahead more to find Fionna laughing and Marshall holding up one of those egg-sponge things. Like the one Bonnie used on his face when she did his makeup that one time. Oh memories. I watched for a while as he did what looked like a fake beauty tutorial, putting on different products (obviously incorrectly) and cracking stupid sexual jokes the whole time.

He's been so down lately I almost forgot how funny he is. And to think he was being this happy just a few hours ago, he seemed down again once he was with me. Spending time with Fionna must be good for him. With that in mind, the thoughts in my head had something to feed on. He's not happy around you because you make him depressed. It's all your fault. If only you were as fun as Fionna, maybe he'd still be with you.

No. That can't be true... Do I really bring him down? I reflected on all the times he's been around me lately versus when he was with Fionna. Ever since that last night we spent together, he's either been avoiding or being short with me. And he always seems... sad. In this livestream he seems so lively and fun, but when he was with me he was awkward and quiet again. Well, I guess he did warm up to me a little later on but still. He wasn't as thrilled to see me at first. Ugh wow this sucks. All this time I thought I was trying to make him happy when all I did was make him more sad.

I thought about earlier today and all the things I said and did. I did a lot of overly-forward moves on him, he probably thinks I'm weird. Marshall was really worried about me hating him, but what if he hates me? No, that's just nonsense. He has no reason to hate me. Well... the whole reason he's getting messed with by Cam and the other kids is because of me really. If I hadn't made our relationship so open, then no one would know and he wouldn't have been humiliated in front of half the school. I think that's a valid reason to hate someone...

Ugh! Enough of this pathetic self-pity! No one hates anyone and everything is just fine, glob damnit! I need to go to bed, and for real this time. I put my phone on the nightstand and turned off the lights in an interval of three. (That was a new compulsive habit I've acquired, doing things in threes.)

For the next half hour or so I lied there, trying my best to fall asleep. It seemed like the second I shut my eyes, the voices instantly flooded my thoughts. One bad one after the other, they wouldn't stop. Normally they were easy to control when there was just a few, but this was getting out of hand and it made me nervous.

You're annoying. You make everything so complicated. You're weird. You're a freak. It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault.
It's your fault Marshall broke up with you. If you weren't so particular maybe he would've stayed. Everything you do is stupid and annoying.
It's your fault that he's depressed. If you didn't make him so sad all the time maybe he'd still be your boyfriend.
He hates you.
You ruined his life.
You're worthless. If you died no one would care.

"Shut! Up! Shut up! Shut up!" I launched myself forward in bed, gripping my hair tightly in aggravation. I couldn't ignore them any longer, it became too much. None of that was true, especially not the last part. I am not worthless! And I know so many people that would care if I were to pass. I didn't want to think of that, but of course more bad thoughts resulted from that.

A war was happening in my mind and I couldn't control it. My heart started to pick up pace and I felt hot. One side continued listing off bad things while the another side tried to counter them. That was bad enough but worst of all, a third side had started to drop bombs of intrusive thoughts to fuck everything up and make me more nervous. Images flashed behind my eyes of disturbing, horrid things. Most were of me, doing harmful acts to myself.

I was scared, I didn't want to see this. I would never do things like that. All I want is to be safe and healthy, and most importantly, alive. I didn't want to die, there's so many people I care about here. I could never leave them and I didn't want to see myself in the act of doing just that. I hated this, I wanted the images and voices to stop! My fingers grabbed at my head and hair (not my face. My hands can't touch my face. Never ever), my face buried in between my knees. I felt so scared and worried for myself. My body felt extremely hot now and my heart was racing even faster than it was before, which made me even more nervous. Oh glob, what if I was dying?

Oh my god I'm dying. I'm dying this is it. I caught some illness and it's attacking me from the inside. Fuck I knew it didn't feel right when I showered, I should've known.

No no that's stupid.

What if my body was deciding to give in to the bad thoughts and was trying to shut itself down? Oh no. Oh glob no I don't want this. I want to live! My face felt all tingly and sort of numb and I didn't even realize I was crying until I felt my cheeks. I'm dying, I'm dying. I'm not okay, I'm definitely not okay. I looked towards the door which looked distorted through my tunnel vision. My hand clenched at my shirt over my heart. Please slow down, please! I need to call for Pepper, maybe she can help me. I need to at least tell her I love her before I die here. My breath sounded wheezy as I tried to take in some air to yell. That's when I realized that my throat felt tight and my chest felt heavy, like I couldn't breathe. Oh glob I really am dying! No no, I need Pepper! I have so much to live for I don't want to die! My body toppled over on the bed and I just lied there, forcing myself to come to terms with my fate as I prayed, wheezed, and sobbed.

A quiet knock came from my window and scared me even more. Glob, now there's a murderer here to kill me! Maybe he'll be quick about it and help end my suffering. There was another knock which threw me in for a loop in my anxiety-ridden state. I felt like I couldn't move, but if I could I'd for sure be grabbing a baseball bat and running.

"Barnaby, are you awake?" A voice called out. I knew that voice. My body, still very worked up over the disastrous war in my mind, gained the ability to move again and stood. I grabbed a bat (just in case it was a murderer) and shakily made my way to the window. My legs were wobbly and my hand shook violently as I pulled the curtain to the side, revealing exactly who I expected. Well, at least I think so. My vision was still sort of tunneled, not to mention blurry from not having my contacts in.

I sighed in relief (though it still sounded strained and trembled) and tossed the bat, struggling to unlock my window with my weak, shaky fingers. There, squatting on my roof behind the mesh screen was my ex-boyfriend, Marshall Lee Abadeer. I don't think I've ever been so happy to see him.

"Oh, I guess you are awake. Sorry if this is late, I know you have your set schedule and all, but I just... really wanted to see you," he said but it sounded muffled. With desperate strength, I yanked the screen up and helped him inside. He needed to get in as soon as possible. Not only to help me, but to make sure no germs get in. "...Are you okay?" he asked after he got a good look at me. I probably looked like a mess to him but I couldn't care less, I was busy being scared of dying. I tried to form words but they wouldn't come out, just more wheezes. Instead I shook my head and placed his hand on my chest to let him know what was happening. Maybe he could find a way to help me stay alive, hopefully even get Pepper. And if not, I guess I wouldn't mind dying in his arms.

"Oh shit," he stated. He moved me to my bed and sat me down. I blindly watched as he searched the room for something, walking to my desk before coming right back. He gently dried my face with a tissue, wiping away my snot and tears. Next he kneeled in front of me and held my hand in a tight grip, rubbing my knee for comfort. "Hey, look. Focus on me, okay? Look right here. Look look." I did what I was told and watched him. His stupid handsome face was calm which made me feel better. At least he'll be the last thing I see before I die. Honestly, why isn't he getting Pepper? Or calling an ambulance? Doesn't he know I'm dying!? Does he not care or something? Oh no what if he catches this disease I have!? I clutched my chest again, hoping to sooth the heavy ache that's been there.

"Everything is alright. You're not dying, I promise. You're gonna be just fine," he spoke smoothly. "Focus right here, don't think about anything else." He released my knee to wipe under my eyes and nose again. If I was crying I didn't notice it, my face still felt all tingly. "I'm gonna count, okay? And I want you to take some deep breaths. First in for three and out for three, think you can do that?" Oh perfect, the number three. I nodded slowly. I felt so shaky still.

He began to count and I did what was told, inhale for three seconds and then exhale for another three. Yes yes three is good. We did that a few more times before the numbers went up and my breaths got longer. It really helped a lot. Being able to breathe felt great and calmed me down. I wasn't going to die after all. After that it was like a spiral effect of ease. My face stopped tingling, my chest stop hurting, I stopped shaking so much, and I didn't feel so hot anymore. I'm cured, oh my glob I'm cured. Phew, okay. Everything's fine.

I hadn't even thought about the reality of what was happening until after he stopped counting. That's when it clicked, and I felt really stupid. I was having a panic attack, and I can't believe I didn't even realize that he was using the same trick that I did to him when he would have one. I remember back when we were just friends in school and all the times he called me from the boys bathroom, crying incomprehensibly. I would leave in the middle of class to find him and when I did I would calm him down my counting. Or if it wasn't severe, I'd ask him simple questions to help him feel in control of his surroundings. I'm so dumb for not realizing!

"Feel any better now?" Marshall asked calmly, giving my hand a squeeze. Oh yeah, he's here. I squeezed his hand back before releasing it and rubbing my face with my wrists (never the hands). Ugh, I'm all sweaty.

I sighed, falling back on my bed. "I think so." Staring up at my ceiling I continued to breathe steadily, focusing on my breath and heartbeat to calm myself down more. I was so relieved to have that over with and to have Marshall Lee here, as weird as it is now that I think about it. What a strange coincidence; the one time he decides to visit in over a month, he saves me from almost dying.

As I laid there, I felt the sweat on my back stick to my shirt and sat up slowly. "Gross," I whispered, peeling my shirt from my body. Ew I need to change. I stood carefully, pausing to catch my balance, and slowly passed Marshall to my dresser to grab a clean 'home' shirt. I had separate clothes that were safe for only at home and ones that could be worn outside, along with two separate hampers for when they got dirty. Couldn't get them mixed up now.

Not caring that my ex was here and could potentially watch, I pulled off my sweat-stained shirt and tossed it in its designated hamper after drying myself down with it. I honestly should shower but I didn't want to do that when Marshall was here. Plus, the voices weren't bugging me about it yet so I might as well enjoy this freedom to be gross. I put on a fresh black t-shirt that was covered in old bleach stains from me wearing it while cleaning. When I turned around, Marshall was sitting cross-legged on my bed, facing me. Hm, so he did watch.

I took a deep breath to recollect and prepare myself for whatever was about to happen. "Wow," I said, sitting by my pillow. "I hated that." My wrists rubbed at my face again. I didn't like that and I don't ever want it to happen again.

"Yeah," he breathed. "Panic attacks suck don't they."

I pulled my comforter over my legs. "I thought I was dying. Now I know how you feel. I knew they weren't fun but I didn't ever think it'd be like that... It just came out of no where." I watched my rough hands as I talked, sniffling a little from my pathetic blubbering earlier.

I felt him shift on the bed. "That's how it works." I made eyes with him. It was dark in my room but my eyes were adjusted enough that I could see him. He still looked blurry but at least I didn't have tunnel vision anymore. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. Guess I made the right decision to come over," he laughed a little. I smiled to myself, turning around to turn on my bedside lamp (three times) and grab my glasses. With some light and some lenses, it was a lot easier to see.

"Why did you come over anyway?" I would like to know the reason behind this random visit. Most of the time when he'd come over through my window in the middle of the night, it was to rant about Ashley or use my computer to finish a last minute paper. Since he wasn't in school anymore but just had a bad date with that blonde devil today, the reason was pretty clear.

Marshall Lee sighed, shrugging a single shoulder. "I'm not sure, to be completely honest. I just..." he ran a hand through his dark locks. "...miss you." Oof, that tugged at my heart. "I know that I messed everything up between us, but you said we were still friends. And friends are supposed to be there for each other, which I haven't been for you lately. I'm sorry for that." My heart ached at that, but in a good way.

I shook my head a little. "Don't be sorry. You did what you felt was necessary."

"That doesn't give me the right to be a jerk. I should've at least been open with you."

I didn't know what to say after that. It warmed me to know that he understood what he did wrong. But again, I'm not sure if he plans on acting on it. "Like I said earlier, the past is in the past."

"Well I fucked up in the past... I want to make our future right." Our future. Glob what the hell is that supposed to mean? He better not be toying with me. "A lot of shit happened today and after thinking about it all, I've come to some conclusions. But I, still need help figuring out more..." Where is he going with this? "I figured I should start being more open with you, considering it seems like everyone in the world hates me right now and you claim that you don't. So, I think I at least owe you this after everything."

I rolled my eyes. "For the last time, Marsh, I don't hate you! And you don't owe me anything." Well...

"Still." Marshall hadn't made eye contact for that whole time, and now started to pick at his cuticles. A nervous habit of his. I made the bold decision to scoot over and grab his hand. With this and the whole car scene earlier, it seemed I was making a lot of bold decisions today. Marshall froze, looking up at me and back down to our hands. His lips curved in a small, sad smile as he squeezed my hand, placing his other one on top of it. His thumb rubbed over my knuckles slightly and he frowned at their roughness. "How many times do you clean your hands a day?"

"I lose count after thirty," I mumbled, feeling self-conscious. Marshalls frown seemed to deepen at that. I wanted to retract my hand but the way he was holding it felt so comforting. His thumb continued caressing my knuckles. Even though it was slightly calloused, probably from playing instruments, his touch was still soft and very caring. I missed times like this.

"You're going to therapy and stuff, right? How's that going? You think it's helping at all?" he asked. I felt the sense that he was stalling.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "I thought you were gonna tell me about your supposed conclusions?" Marshall laughed a little, probably because he was being called out.

"I am," he blushed a little, still looking down at our hands. "I just want to catch up with you first. We haven't been able to talk like this in a while."

I hummed. He's right, he hasn't given me a chance to talk with him pretty much ever since the last time he spent the night. "Fine let's catch up, but don't think I'm gonna let this go," I teased, pointing a finger at him. He rolled his eyes, a dumb smile on his face. "If you must know, my first session went pretty well I think. My psychiatrist is nice. It's only been one day so, not much has been progressed... Clearly, if you couldn't already tell from my episode earlier." I was still recovering from that. If Marshall wasn't here I'd surely be freaking the fuck out still.

Marshall had flipped my hand over and was now gently scratching my palm and wrist, occasionally going up my forearm. It felt really good and sent tingles up my arm. This was okay. It's Marshall touching me so it's okay. "It'll get better. It feels kinda depressing and embarrassing opening up to some stranger but it does help some. It's different for everyone though, you'll find out what works best for you."

"Why'd you stop going?" Back in high school Marshall used to go to therapy for his depression, but eventually just stopped mentioning it.

"Medicine worked better for me. Plus my mom didn't want to pay for both." He was now tracing my fingers with one of his. I hummed. For a while we talked about what's been up with us lately. I confessed that I've been mad at him for what he did and that I couldn't stop thinking about him. Marshall felt bad, but also mentioned that he couldn't stop thinking about me either.

Marshall actually did end up telling me about what happened during his date with Ashley, which brought back memories of nights like these when he'd sneak over to rant about her. Talking about the end of their date led him into his apparent realization.

"-I talked with Fionna about it and she said- well she didn't exactly say it, but she implied something that I've been, re...questioning, I guess." Marshall traced little figures on my palm, tickling my hand. "Which leads me into my long awaited conclusion," he laughed, but a blush dusted his cheeks. My stomach fluttered in what I assumed what anticipation.

"When we dated I sort of rushed into it, not really giving myself time to sit down and think about what I got myself into. I'd never been with a guy before and, I don't know, it was different. You made me feel different. I didn't understand it. And as stupid as it sounds, I started doubting my real feelings for you and then dumped you, hoping I'd figure this all out... I didn't want to keep your hopes up and then break your heart years down the road, you know? I wanted to make sure I was in it to win it and knew what I wanted, so that I didn't hurt you more."

He grabbed up both of my hands and held them firmly in his, looking up to meet my eyes. "Well, with the help of Fionna and unfortunately, Ashley too, I've come to the conclusion that I'm... not not gay... but now I need your help." The blush on his cheeks was more than a faint dusting, now it was very apparent. I felt his hands begin to sweat a little.

I didn't understand what he was getting at. What did he need my help with? Figuring out if he's actually gay or not? Thinking back to when we dated and would make out and various other gay things, I started to feel a little bitter. Regardless, I asked, "With what?"

Marshall Lee averted his eyes, his hands twitching probably because he wanted to pick at them. His face was bright red now. "Um. Well, since I couldn't get it up with a girl... I-uh. Wanted to see if that could change if it was... with a guy..." He quickly retracted his hands, holding them in front of his face nervously.

Oh... my glob. He's here to fuck. Holy shit.

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Cliff hangerrr - don't worry though, I promise the 2nd part will be posted soon! There won't be another 5 month wait 😬
I'm sorry for not posting in forever ik ik I suck. But I hope the events in the next chapter make up for it ;)

See you in the next chapter 👀😉