Johnny Johnny slammed the door. he was tired, more so than usual. ' ' what the fuck. ' ' He thought to himself. What went wrong? Johnny loved his husband, they had been through a lot. together. He missed those nights they'd spent together. Quick, unmemorable nights. Fucking around outside, acting like the idiots they were. They would push each other into the pool, knocking over the last drops out of the beer bottles they had thrown on the ground unable to process what was going on. It was sort of like decoration, the bottles scattered all over the house. Roaming around the bedroom late at night, naked. The only thing they were aware of being the sharp moans and the songs in the back playing. Always the same playlist. Johnny opened his phone, going onto Spotify and playing that very playlist through his headphones. He began to tear up as he listened. He would die to feel that way again. He'd do anything he could. But, now he was in the same bedroom by himself, crying instead of getting it up like usual. He missed it, more than anything. It was more than a painful feeling. There isn't even a word to explain how much pain he felt. He was at his breaking point. What did the man even have left? A last chance to give him for for it to be broken, yet again? His husband, Miniman 3 didn't even have a valid reason for doing it. He could resist fucking yet another city boy to their playlist, that's what hurt most to him. The playlist Johnny went out of his way to make. All of their favorite songs were in it. It hurt at that this very moment he knew that after he slammed that door, he left to find someone else to fuck. The angered man grabbed another wine bottle from his minifridge, downing it in seconds.
" Fuck, there isnt any left.. " Johnny muttered, already feeling too drunk to go out. He'd just go to a bar, or club, he figured. Johnny had the money for it, anyways. Maybe he could even have a one night stand while he was out, that'd surely make him feel better. He slipped the ring off his finger, placing it on his husband's nightstand. He rolled out of bed, putting on a jacket and stretching the wig cap on his head. Johnny was bald, despite being 8 years old in miniman years. You'd usually start balding at 10 in miniman years, being 61 in human years. That was embarrassing to him, so he covered it up. He finished his look, smudged eyeliner with a black wig and jacket. He looked decent, decent enough to get laid by a drunk stranger. Grabbing his keys, he unlocked his creaky old door, since his house was old, the doors tended to be extremely loud. Before stepping outside the door, he took a moment to think.
"is this right?" he asked himself, taking out his wallet and looking at the picture of them from a while back, looking so happy together. Whatever, it was over. He walked down to the local club, passing restaurants they'd been to, the park they fucked about in and every other place that was just nothing more than a misty memory of Miniman3, staring at the glowing signs on the entrance. Slow down played as he walked in, their favorite song. He took a seat, staring at the girls on the poles that were wasting their lives away. He felt bad, he wondered why this was even an actual well paying job. They probably got paid more than he did, too. Johnny worked at a sugar factory. Not the best job, but something he was passionate about. He loved sugar, ever since he was a kid he'd down whole jars of it within seconds. He wanted to be with sugar forever, so he did. It had quite a decent pay in his opinion, enough for rent and to buy other things. Unfortunately, most of it had been spent on beer, lately. Johnny just couldn't help it, his husband leaving him to fuck some random boy at a club, even after fights. he knew there were better coping mechanisms. So why? Why'd he fucking do it? Johnny downed another bottle, deep in thought yet still watching the stripper. He didn't know what was right anymore. Should he cheat too? Would that help him in his state? Well, he could only convince himself it would. dressed up like an emo fuckboy really helped him though, in his opinion. Girls kept glancing at him, eye scanning him. Every last detail was examined. Johnny didn't know how to say it, but it made him nervous, he kept watching. Before he knew, another girl came up to him, with a smirk on her lips. She wore a short hot-pink dress, it was tight and showed her curves nicely, or at least he thought so.
" You're kind of cute, y'know. Wanna head back to my place, sweethearts? " She practically yelled, not realizing. Too drunk to care. She sat on top of him, grabbing onto his shoulders. Johnny nodded, giving a smirk and a wink. She grabbed his hand and took him outside. She asked if he wanted a hotel, or her place In which he answered with her place. He hated hotels. Most of them have infections and bedbugs. He didn't want to get sick, anything but that. He wanted his love back. This, unfortunately was the closest he'd get to it. Walking back to hers, he rubbed her thighs, asked her questions, etc. She giggled almost every sentence, it was off-putting, but she was drunk also, so he didn't really judge her.
. . . .
It wasnt great. The girl was nice, but he didn't enjoy it. Maybe it was the songs? Or just the thought of his husband, that had to be it. He went home without a word to her, afterwards. What was there to say? Vent about his wife to a stranger he'd just fucked? No chance. Who'd do that? He dropped the thought, picking up another bottle. The alcohol wasn't working anymore. He had one after another, about 30 bottles he'd downed had been discarded on the floor. His foot knocked a few over, the remaining liquid staining the carpet. Just like old times, he thought to himself as he purposely knocked over more bottles to feel the same old one again. No use, because Miniman3 wasn't there. Without him, it was nothing. A bottle suddenly had fallen over and smashed, a shard stabbing into his foot. ' Fuck, fuck fuck fuck! 'his mind exploded with the word, repeating it over and over again. The glass was cold, so was the blood. It stung, stung like a wasp sting, But only larger. The blood ran down his foot as he writhed in pain.
" Johnny? "
