a/n: I know, I know, I'm writing about depressing subjects. I don't know why, I'm just, kinda, sad for some reason. And stressed, and freaked out. I have no clue why. This is Nate/Jason/Shane. I call it Connect Threesome. It centers on Nate, which is a change for me, cause I prefer Jason and Shane and getting into one of their heads.
Heatbreak. That's what I feel when I'm not with Shane and Jason, my boyfriends.
Torture. That's what I suffer through every weekend, wednesday afternoons and every other major holiday, the days I'm with my father.
Pain. That's all I have every other night. When my mom's boyfriend comes in and rapes me. It's been two years and yet it still hurts. When Jason or Shane and I do it, it doesn't. When Luke does it, I want to die.
Happy Hour. I've decided it's called that because the children of abusive drunkard women and crack addict fathers are only happy during that time, when their parents and their parents partners are out drinking and having mindless sex.
But their comes a time when it's just to much and you want to die. The strong ones fight the urge to stab themselves or blow their brains out, or overdose on something. The weak ones give in.
The lucky weak ones live. The unlucky weak ones die. At least, that's what Jason and Shane whisper in my ears at night on tour when we're all three cuddling and everythings right. Before I have to go home and not see them everyday.
I'm Nate Gomez and aparently, I'm one of the lucky ones. and the only reason is- because they, they being my caring boyfriends/bandmates listened to everything I said and read between the lines. That and I forgot about those pills I took when Jason and Shane called and then passed out midsentence.
But the bruises and the little secret growing in my stomach are enough to make me wonder- am I really one of the lucky ones?