drunk fantasies ; one shot book

closeted (s. bullock)

Whistling softly, you folded the small piece of paper on the table, turning it into a flower while you waited for your girlfriend to come home.

You and Sandra had been together for a while now. Your relationship wasn't really the most ideal situation, keeping it a secret from everyone and all, but you loved each other, and that was what mattered, right?

It didn't take you very long to come to terms with your attraction to women, as you had always lowkey been bi and, yes, your family knew, the only problem in you being together was that Sandra wasn't ready to come out of the closet just yet. You respected that she needed her time, but your family had been bugging you to introduce her to them, and it was getting harder and harder to deflect and making excuses for her.

Your phone rang, snapping you out of your thoughts. "Hello, mother."

"Soooooo," she said, making sure to drag out the word, "when are you guys planning to come over for dinner? This weekend would probably be ideal."

You pinched the bridge of your nose, "Mom, we have had this conversation before, we're still discussing it."

"Is it bad that we want to meet your mystery girlfriend?"

"It's bad when the mystery girlfriend isn't ready, mom. I promise I will talk to her about it when she gets home, but no guarantees about dinner."

"Fine," she sighed dramatically, "Love you."

"Mom, I love you too, but please don't guilt trip me."

"Who said I was guilt tripping you?"

"Um, it's obvious, I'm not entirely stupid, ma."

"Fair enough. Take care, honey. We love you."

"Love you too."

You hung up and sat there, twirling the flower in your hands, pondering over how to break the news to your girlfriend.

Just then, the door opened, "Hey, Y/N, I'm back! I brought some food with me!"

The brunette walked over, placed a light kiss on your forehead, and started to unpack the takeout she had brought.

"Hey, Sandy, how was your day?"

"Fine, but I missed you a lot."

"Well, I missed you too. But, um, there's something I have to talk to you about," you said shyly, curling the petals in your fingers.

Sandra stopped her movements and looked over at you, "Yeah? What is it?"

"My mom wants us to come over for dinner this weekend again."

"C'mon honey, I-I can't," she said as she ran a hand through her hair, "I'm sorry, really."

"Everyone's been dying to meet you, and didn't you say it was your mom's birthday this week? We could invite your parents too."

She shook her head, opening a container of food, "I don't think I can handle it."

"Why? Are you ashamed of me?" you quipped jokingly, but then you saw Sandra's expression. "Oh my god, you are."

You quickly moved to get up, "Okay, if you're ashamed of me, then maybe you shouldn't be seeing me, right?"

"No, no, Y/N, please, it's not like that!"

"Then what is it, Sandra?" you snapped, "Is it because I might be ruining your reputation if the public finds out about you dating a girl? Is it because I'm younger than you? Is it because I'm not good enough? What? What is it?"