🅔🅐🅡🅣🅗 🅞🅝🅔 // 💫

𝑯𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔

Is it so wrong?

To daydream of him? The official hottest man in the united states...?

I mean, at least that was what last month's poll had came to the conclusion of.

He's hot, rich, and I get to be near him. Daily.

It hurts to watch as he kisses, and touches other men, yes, but what am I to do?

It pains me greatly when he talks of suicide like he deserves it... But what am I to do?!

I'm his closest ally, and yet here I am. Unable to do anything to help...

Here I am... Daydreaming...

In his house - our house. - Wishing he would walk in, crawl on top of me and-

... How lewd of me... God, I'm disgusting.

My hand slowly slinks further... Before I stop myself, my fingertips brushing against the hem of my pajama pants, lightly making contact with the tied strings...

It's wrong.

So wrong.

I've already touched, and came to the thought of him twice this week. I need to stop and get a life...

... But he's so kind to me... Why can't he just... Care for me? Care for me like I care for him?
Hm?

... What am I doing wrong...

This is so wrong.

God I'm disgusting...

"Micheal? You in there?" The sudden knock startles me into sitting upright, eyeing my door.

"Yessir! In here Mr. Oswald. Come in."

I call out to him in reply as he opens my door and wanders in. Stopping to lean against my bed frame, green eyes boring into me, making my skin crawl...

"... I've beeped your four times..." He states. Lips puckering into a pout, groomed eyebrows knitting close together.

God... I can't resist him...

"Sorry sir. I must have turned it off. I-"

"Micheal?"

"Yessir?"

"... Shut up."

I heave a sigh, slumping into myself.

"Yessir..."

"Now, red wine. The good glasses, and maybe a bit of takeout. I'm having company over."

I give a nod, swinging my legs off the bed to stand and get to work, adjusting my T-shirt.

"Understood."

... I hate it.

Why can't it just be me?