Hey guys! I went on a brief hiatus, but I'm BAAAACK. I know this is a rather short piece, but I felt like Whatsername was underrepresented in the Fanfic world. As always, I love reviews!

Disclaimer: I do not, by ANY stretch of the imagination, own ANY of the content or characters expressed in the story.

I kicked my Doc Marten-clad feet up onto the patchy, overstuffed couch and reached for the remote, flipping aimlessly through channels.

"Uaghhhhh. No more Spike TV", I muttered as Johnny urged me to watch another one of his favorite Kat-Von-D-Tattoos-Insert-Famous-Person-Here TV shows. He nudged my feet off the couch and sat down next to me, the decrepeit couch groaning under his weight. He flung his arm around me carelessly and leaned in, motioning for me to place my head on his shoulder. I tucked my frizzy mess of hair behind one ear and leaned towards him, inhaling his ether of cheap deoderant and cigarettes. I snuggled into his warm flannel shirt and he sloppily kissed my head.

"Ew. Stop. You're gonna fuck up my hair."

He really doesn't understand the connundrums of being a girl.

"Sorry babe. I was just trying to be rom-aaaaan-tic."

I could smell the beer on his breath as he cooed at me, but this time, it wasn't romantic. It was actually a little offputting.

Oh god. He's drunk. Again.

I sat up and ran my fingers through my fluffy hair. "Johnny, this isn't right."

He wasn't listening. His attention was set on the cadaverous figure in the corner, whose jagged shadow stretched across the room. The figure's grasped a bag of fine white powder in one hand and beckoned Johnny with the other, a wry smile spreading across his thin lips.

Don't do it. Don't make me lose everything I've won.

I pulled Johnny in closer, kissing him fiercely, trying to keep him from sliding away. I wrapped my arms around his skinny back, hugging his scrawny figure into my own.

Don't give in to the Saint.

Even as I embraced him tighter, Johnny slid further and further away, slowly retreating from my grasp, as the rawboned figure drew him in.

Desperate to keep him near me, I flung my legs over his, practically forcing myself on him. I ran his hands through my hair and wrapped his strong arms around me, but he wouldn't have it. The arms that were once well-muscled, holding me in an amorous embrace, were becoming weaker and weaker, his attention span shorter and shorter.

I loved Johnny. I loved him from his messy dark hair to his scuffed, battered converse. I loved him, and he hadn't even bothered to learn my name.

He stood up, brushing off his tattered jeans. He slowly turned, his face devoid of emotion, and headed towards the figure in the corner. I couldn't look at him. He slowly left my peripheral vision, and I held back tears. I wouldn't let him see me cry. I was above that. He walked away, making clumsy and perfunctory movements. The figure beckoned him. It beckoned me too.

No. I wouldn't let Jimmy steal more than he already had.

As Johnny walked away, I opened my mouth to yell.

"REBECCA. My name's Rebecca."

He still didn't listen.

It's alright. He won't remember it in the morning anyway.