Mommy Fwiend

Talk to me when you're sober

Brett laid asleep on his bed, silently. The only noises filling the air were the quiet chirping of birds and an occasional car driving by. Suddenly his phone on the bedside table started to vibrate, followed by a harshly loud *RIIING! RIIIING!* Brett groaned as he sat up, rubbing his eyes as the ringing continued. He grabbed the phone off the table, and looked at the bright screen. Andre. He sighed, as he pressed the answer key.

[Heyyyhhh Brett.. Wanna come over to mine andd we can have some *hic* fun?]

"Andre, are you drunk again?"

[Nooooo... No, no, no, noooo.. Why would you everrr *hic* think that??]

"Andre. Its 3 in the morning, could we hang out later maybe?"

[Aghh- come on... You're no fun anymore.]

"*sigh.* I'll be there in 10 minutes.."

[Greaatt, just *hic* hurry up, princess.]

*beep.*

Brett got up and changed out of his pajamas in turn for a loose white t-shirt and baggy sweatpants. He made his way over to the bathroom and turned the sink's faucet on, and he splashed cold water on his face, as a wake-up call of sorts. Looking in the mirror, he whispered too himself, "Great. We're doing this again." Brett grabbed his bag, and put in 2 water bottles, his wallet, and some painkillers, and he zipped up the backpack.

As left his apartment complex, he grabbed his keys on the table next to the entrance, and he shut the door slowly. He took the elevator downstairs, and walked out to the cold as shit parking lot, unlocking and hopping in his car, as he started the drive to Andre's house. It wasn't far, he could've walked. But then again, it was 3AM, pitch black and all the weirdos come out at night. After what felt like the longest 6 minutes ever, he arrived to the house.

He basically just walked in, and headed up the stairs to Andre's room. Opening the door, he saw Andre sitting on the bed, watching some shitty 2000's sitcom, with bottles and various substances scattered about the floor.
"Andre?" Brett called out, letting his presence be known as he walked up to where the other was sitting. Taking a seat next to Andre, he saw this guy was absolutely fucking wasted.

"My god, Andre. How much did you have to drink?"

"Eghh.. What,. 5? 6?" Andre slurred his words.

"We should get you to bed, buddy."

Andre just chuckled as he crawled closer to Brett, taking his face in his hands.

"Hehehh.. Do people tell you how pretty youu *hic* are??"

"I mean.. ocassionally."

Andre leaned in, and gave Brett a sloppy kiss. It tasted like pure alchohol. But Andre just kept kissing him, messier by the second. He let go to catch his breath. He began to pull Brett out of his shirt, and tugging off his sweatpants, leaving him in his bare boxers. Andre looked at his abs, running his fingers across Brett's almond colored skin, and Brett just stared away from all this. Andre finally began to pull his boxers, his dick popping out, slightly erect.

"Ohohohh.. Someones happy to see mee?" Andre wisecracked.

"Andre.." Brett whispered.

"Hehe, yesss??

"I know I usually do ya know, *this* with you.. but I think you need help."

"Heh what?? This is help, you're helping me."

"No, Andre. It's not help. This is just pointless sex you regret in the morning because you cant deal with your own problems."

"What the fuck are you on about, big guy?

"What I'm 'on about', is that you won't seek professional fucking help and you'd rather use me to make your dick feel better. You're fucked up man."

Brett wiped the slight tears from his eyes, and grabbed his clothes. As he put them on, he picked up his bag, and walked out the door.

When he got to his car, he sat there in disbelief, a lot of realization hitting him square in the face. Wow, Andre didn't like me.. He used me. For sex, of all things. I-I don't even like Andre! What the fuck was I thinking..? Brett let himself have a good, well desevered cry. And then he drove to Reagan's apartment. Because he didn't know what else to, and he sure as hell didn't feel like going back to his empty complex.

He knocked on the door. Once. Twice. Three times. Fo- Reagan opened the door, yawning.

"Brett? What the fuck, it's 5 in the goddamn morning."

"I-I know, but some.. *things* happened and I wanted to talk to you about it."

"Whatever it is, I hope it's important. Come in, I have some coffee brewing."

"Thanks, Reagan."

*A/N*

sorry if this was a bit ooc, ive never written these characters before and plus this is partly a vent book because someone i really liked a long time ago, I found out they were hypersexual and things really just started to click for me. haha but i hope you enjoyed this story!!

some songs that inspired this fic:

moral of the story - ashe
mommy fwiend - penelope scott
look whos inside again - bo burnham
ily like an alchoholic - the taxpayers
no children - the mountain goats
pigeon - cavetown
class of 2013 - mitski

Word count: 879