I CALL YOUR NAME
(Lennon-McCartney)
I call your name but you're not there
Was I to blame for bein' unfair
Don't you know I can't sleep at night since you've been gone
I never weep at night, I can't go on
Don't you know I can't take it
I don't know who can
I'm not gonna make it
I'm not that kind of man
Don't you know I can't sleep at night but just the same
I never weep at night, I call your name
Don't you know I can't take it
I don't know who can
I'm not gonna make it
I'm not that kind of man
Don't you know I can't sleep at night but just the same, yeah
I never weep at night, I call your name
I never weep at night, I call your name
***********************************
"Goodnight Brian."
"Goodnight Twat and remember, CONDOMS, the thick ones."
"Love you too, Asshole. Later."
"Yeah, yeah. Later."
Fuck, thought the little the shit would never hang up. Just prattles on and on. Why can't he remember a little thing like a four hour time difference. Twat! No, he has to call at three in the morning, every morning since he left. Just like him.
And what's with this three in the morning shit?! Like him sneaking outta here at three in the morning. Fucking little shit. I wake up to find cold sheets, no blond boy ass, just a note. `Better this way. I love you. I'm going to miss you.'
Miss me?! Yeah, miss my cock more like it. I'm not going to miss him, much. Miss that hot tight ass of his. Miss that sweet thick cock. Miss that beautiful smile. Miss that giggle. Shit. Sound like a lesbian. And at fuckin' three in the morning. Damn, now how do I go back to sleep?
Not gonna miss his shit cluttering up my loft. Not gonna miss his dirty clothes he drops all over. Especially not gonna miss his nasty socks. Shit, for a boy who showers as much as he does, how do his socks smell so bad? Like the ones under my pillow. How the fuck did they get there? Smelly Justin socks. Like him, strong, musky after a long day at the diner or after a day at his easel. Yeah, just like his hoodie. Why did he leave it here and unwashed! Well, it'll be here when he gets home. And he better not expect me to wash it, not gonna wash his laundry. That's what he has Daphne or his mother for. Shit. Just like him to go 3,000 miles and leave me with his dirty smelly clothes. Fuck. No, not gonna miss him at all.
Sleep. Got to go back to sleep. Deal with his shit in the morning.
Socks.
Hoodie.
"Justin."
Fuck.