A/N: This fic was written after a talk with a friend about how she had "gay friends" but didn't want to "see them kiss" or "hear about stuff like that". It talks about sexual acts, slash, suicidal thoughts, and a cliff hanger. I deliberatly refrained from mentioning names until the end. Will there be a sequal? I haven't decided yet. Depends on the reviews I get. Hope you like this. Flames will be fed to the ice tigers of Surrain. I apologize for the shortness, but I didn't see a way to drag this out.
Why did I even bother? I wondered as I let myself into my apartment. Lunch with her was almost as bad as a movie with him. The difference being that she didn't want a blow job. She didn't want to hear about my problem, and she didn't want to acknowledge what he meant in my life. I laughed derisively. I didn't have a life anymore, I didn't have a job because I couldn't get one that was worth it without my college degree, and I didn't have that because he had talked me into dropping out. I sat around the apartment all day, doing nothing, unless she wanted to 'do lunch' or he came home on his lunch hour.
I wanted out, and I didn't know how to get out. Nobody else ever talked to me, why, I didn't know. It was like they had all dropped off the face of the planet when I'd put aside the blue. Or was it that I hid from them? I walked into the bedroom and opened his bedside table, where the loaded gun rested. I picked it up, as I did at some point during the day, and regarded it. It was loaded, and all I had to do was point and pull the trigger.
The phone rang.
I looked from the phone to the gun and back. It was probably him, telling me he was coming home and wanted to see me waiting for him. I looked at the gun and wondered if it would hurt.
The machine picked up, "This is Dr. Tommy Oliver, and I'm looking for Justin Stewart." I looked again at the gun, wondering what was the quickest way to get out of the sinking hole of my life.