“Did…you get the texts I sent you?” “Yeah, so?” “Why didn’t you reply?” “Why would I? Should I have rejoiced and thrown a party because the almighty Brandon King finally recognized my existence, decided I’m not disgusting anymore, and texted me? Get over your useless fucking self.” His jaw tightens and he releases me. “Don’t be a dick. I apologized for what I think is a misunderstanding. I…don’t believe you’re disgusting because of your sexuality. I would never think that.” “Thanks for nothing.” This time, I’m hell-bent on leaving.
