Slow Changes (Whizzvin)

Part XIII. First Time+Table Injuries

Marvin's new boyfriend was going to the gay bar with them! It'll be fun, right? Sure, it was fun. But halfway through it, Marvin had a drunk breakdown on a bar stool at 8pm while hugging his new boyfriend who really is just there to have sex with him and distract him from Whizzer. Then he gets overly blackout drunk and can't remember his first time with his new boyfriend. He can't even stop thinking of Whizzer. Next thing you know, he falls through a fucking table.

Trigger warnings for sexual content (no full on smut), mentions of abuse, mentions of injuries (splinters and cuts), and drinking in a bar.

Marvin's Point of View: 7:32pm, April 3rd, 1979.

So Whitman just arrived and found my table, thank God. So now we're dancing together after a couple of shots of nothing too hard. I've survived off of hard liquor and poetry writing in the last few days so I'm sick of that shit and need something more fruity. Like Whiz- Whitman likes.

"I've seen you here before! That's where I know you from! And like you always came here with that really cute, nice guy! What ever happened to him?" And he mentioned Whizzer. "I'll need 6 shots of vodka before I even begin to talk about that." I tried to joke and end up chuckling. Whitman really likes my laugh which is fucking weird but who am I to judge?

I'm so fucking bored of just grinding on this guy. "Can we go back to the bar?" I ask. I try to remain polite and charming. "Yes!" He yelled over the music and walked in the gayest way I've ever seen back over to the bar. I give him 100 dollars and tell him to buy us whatever as long as he didn't try to drug me into a psychedelic orgy with his mom or some shit. I've seen some weird stuff at gay bars, I swear to fucking god. "So, what's your background like?"

I need to know if this guy is Jewish or Roman Catholic or British or some shit. "Well my mom's Jewish and my dad isn't by blood, but converted to Judaism so that'd make me half Jewish!" He says, smiling at me. "Both my parents are Jewish. But you already knew, assuming you know  my dad." I want to blow this party and let him blow me or something. He was half Jewish, like Whizzer. All the fucking pretty boys are half Jewish.

I was growing impatient. I was already highly fucking intoxicated. I wasn't going to fully TELL HIM that I beat my ex. "So I left the guy I'm always with because he didn't make my dinner and beat me at chess and I was a judgemental fucking prick. I'll never get him back, of course. My son loves him more than he loves me." I swear. I'm crying in front of my new boyfriend conquest person and he's just patting my fucking shoulder. I miss Whizzer patting my shoulder.

I miss everything about Whizzer. I wish he was there. Next thing I knew, I was falling. I felt like I was falling. I saw Whizzer. We hugged. Kissed. Embraced. Everything. We cuddled and made up. I apologized to him. For everything. And he accepted it. He told me he loved me too.

And then after that, I'm in a strange bed that I don't remember seeing ever. I look beside me and I see Whitman. We probably both just got really drunk last night and we're cuddling so obviously he wasn't just pushing me against the wall and fucking me and leaving me there. He cared enough for aftercare. I couldn't feel cum in my ass or anything.

I smiled and pretended he was Whizzer. My mind went back to what I had been imagining earlier. I imagined Whizzer holding me. I knew it wasn't reality, but who fucking cares? Who cares if I'm just using Whitman to pretend he's my ex boyfriend? Who cares if he's just using me for sex or something?

At this point, I'm staggering out of bed and waddling with only my boxers on. I put the clothes in the floor on, since Whitman seems to be in his pants and his shirt's in the bed. This doesn't feel comfortable. It's so fucking cold in the room. How does he live like this? It's probably 30°F (-1° C) in his fucking room. I try to find my way around his house. I find the kitchen and make myself some tea. He drinks the same tea as Whizzer. I make some weird fucking mint tea that he has a jar with the bags for on his counter.