Slow Changes (Whizzvin)

Part XV. Wedding Blues

Marvin stays home alone on May 27th at 8. He had no one. The lesbians were at the wedding. Marvin writes poetry and watches TV. Jason's with his mom and is serving as the flower boy. Marvin spends the day crying and burning photos of him and Trina when they were together and reminiscing.

No trigger warnings besides sad and pissed Marvin so a bit of yelling and hatred for everyone but that's really all. And him considering burning the house down with himself in it.

Marvin's Point of View: 7:53am, May 27th, 1979.

They asked me to come. I fucking couldn't. Whizzer would be there, I was certain. I couldn't believe they would fucking invite me. I start sobbing into my desk. I pull out a pen and my diary thing. "Fuck!" I scream, sobbing into the desk. I slammed my head down into the desk. My wife was getting married to my psychiatrist and then the guy I was supposed to be with is attending!

I was supposed to end up with him. I was supposed to always be with him. He was supposed to love me. He was supposed to always fucking stay with me. I haven't ate anything but restaurant food and microwave shit since he left. I can't fucking cook. He knew that. And we didn't even manage to keep a fucking friendship. He was my first time with a man and he fucking left me.

God, I don't know why I obsess over him. But who fucking wouldn't? He's Whizzer Brown. He's so perfect.

I hate that I think he's perfect. I hate how I fucking love him and I need him. I scribble the words "Fuck you, Whizzer Brown." into my journal and then quickly cross them out and write "I miss you." The page is tear stained. That's fucking cliche. I fucking hate this shit.

I take out a photo box. It was photos of me and Trina at the bottom and photos of Whizzer at the top. I pull out a photo of me and Whizzer's first date. I get my lighter out and burn it, pouring water on it. I continue. I pull out a photo of me, Trina, and Jason. I burn it. I pulled out a photo of me and Trina eating linguine together after she'd cooked it. I burn that one.

I consider burning the house down. While I'm in it. That'd fucking show Whizzer. And a photo of him would start the fire. He would know what he fucking did to me. He made me a fucking maniac like this. This is why I can't live with myself. It's all because of him. What he did to me. All of it. I fucking hate him.

He made me like this. Everything was fucking fine until he came along. He destroyed my tight knit family. So that's when I fucking wrote him letter. I would never send it to him but I would contemplate it, of course.

Dear Whizzer Brown,
Thanks for fucking everything I had up. It's your fault Trina is marrying someone else. She was supposed to love me. I was supposed to be with you and her at the same time. But no. You guys weren't okay with it. You're so fucking self centered.

Everything with you is either about style of critiquing someone. I fucking know you're why Whitman left me a couple of months ago. Why men won't sleep with me in the bar anymore. Why I literally fucking cry in bars now. And people just look at me in disgust.

No one loves me, Whizzer. And it's all your fucking fault everyone has been avoiding me. You're the reason everyone hates me, including myself.

Have fun. Fuck you.
Love, Marvin

I then tore up the letter. "I fucking love him. I can't still love him. After all he's done with me. After I left my family for him, why wouldn't I love him? That's why I need him. I fucking love him. My life depends on him. He's what I fucking need. And I hate it. I hate him. I hate living him. I don't fucking want to love him.

I will never ever fucking think of him again. But I'm doing it right now. I don't know why I love him anymore. I don't know. I want him to hold me, but I also want him to slap me across the fucking face. I want him to hold me. I want him to help me.

I take another photo out of me and Whizzer. I put it in a frame and put it above the fireplace. It was the last thing I had to remind me of him besides his smell on the left side of the bed, 2 of his shirts I've found in odd places, and all these fucking memories.

I sighed. I don't know what's going on at the wedding. They've probably just said their vows and they're eating a white cake with buttercream frosting and doing couple things like Mendel smashing the cake in Trina's face. Trina got pissed at me when I did that at our wedding. It was tradition. Sure, I was late and she was already pissed about that but a wedding is literally fucking death. I was literally just fucking thinking about what I should think about before I fucking die.

And I ended up being minutes late. Trina's friends hate me because of it. They love weddings. I fucking hate them. Gay marriage being illegal doesn't fucking bother me. I would never marry someone. Even if he was nice and hot and all the shit I would like in a guy, I don't fucking marry. It's not a thing that I like. I fucking hate marriage.

I would marry Whizzer, though. Goddamn. He's fucking perfect. Now I'm just unhealthy with my newly found infatuation with him. My love for him. I hate love, but I somehow love him. Why? Why the fuck do bad things happen to me when I'm too fucking good for this?

And that was something that lead to another sleepless night alone in bed. Whizzer wasn't by my side. I hate when I'm lonely while in bed. I just want to fucking hold someone or something. Fuck this.

I know I have to get over Whizzer one way or another. And I will. It'll take time. It'll take some slow changes.

A/N: Roll credits! Word count is 1075. I can't believe we're already on chapter 15.