Let's get this out of the way (I've been organizing myself, just so you know. I found out that it's easier to be collected then chaotic- see, I'm smart); the kid (notice how I'm not calling the thing growing inside me it. Adam got pretty fed up with my constant insults) was conceived (such a fucking weird word) sometime in January, and then I pushed Adam down the stairs in February, so add two months to that and it'd be four months. Yep, it's been another fucking month. And I'm fucking big too. Like…How do I explain this? Fuck, I can't. But I looked like I've been eating way too many ding-dongs. Of course my mother has noticed, but she hasn't pried into it too much, thank the fucking lord, but still, I know one of these days I'm going to have to tell her what's going down, and she's gonna flip out.

Like majorly go down hill. Probably get into a great depression, denial, then flip out over having a grandchild. But I still don't have the balls to actually come out and tell her, I'm freaking out myself; so how can I expect to tell my mother that me, Tommy Joe Ratliff, is pregnant with Adam Mitchel Lambert's child? I HAVEN'T EVEN "COME OUT OF THE CLOSET" YET!

But on the bright side, Adam's not being a total fucking dick to me. Haha, don't make me laugh. Screw me, he's been even worse. How worse, Tommy? I mean, he couldn't be as bad as he was be before? Obviously not…

Ended up he was like, on twenty-eight pain killers and he got all fucking loopy or something, so he acted that way to me when I went to see him in the hospital. That's the only reason why he was so sweet to me. When I woke up in his arms, he screamed and pushed me off the bed, shaking and yelling at me. The nurse had to come in a drag me out of the room like I fucking shot his foot. That's how much of an overreaction he was having.

So no, there's no bright side. I'm four months pregnant and the father absolutely despises me for unknown reasons. Hell, three months ago he was acting somewhat decent. And yes, I know, he was so fucking sweet. Too sweet. I knew there was something up. I mean, he sang to the fucking kid for God's sake! With the voice of a fucking GOD. It was completely and utterly intoxicating. I mean, come on. It sounded like honey dipped in chocolate in a vast field of sugar. I know that sounds gay, but it's so true…

I gripped onto my backpack straps, hanging my head and looking dully at the floor like it was a gaping black pit ready to suck me in. I was wearing a fairly loose shirt, but you could still tell that there was something there. People don't ask because they don't care, so that's good. However, Adam still draws attention to me. Not to my stomach by saying shit like "Oh, you got so fat!" but mostly just making fun of everything else about me. Thanks for having some fucking decency to the person bearing your fucking child, Lambert.

However, I still hate myself for not hating him. I should just about loath that bastard, but I don't. I'm not saying I love him or anything, that would be going too far, but I do feel something towards him. I don't know what it is. Maybe because he has some kind of obligation to be near me because we're having a kid together, I don't know. All I know is that I don't hate him, and I really want too.

And I have a reason to despise his fucking soul. Him, Drake, and Brad have been making everything a living hell. I mean, Adam just got out of the hospital two weeks ago, but they allowed him to go to school? This is shit. Deep, deep, deep shit. Fuck me. Fuck this entire world…I mean…It doesn't make sense…I don't cry, that's for pussy shit, but it still hurts so much…I bottle up these feelings and I want to cry, but I go to different measures of soothing myself.

"Hey, dipshit. Get the fuck lost, loser," Adam smirked and rammed me into a locker. He smirked sexily at me, and that left eyebrow twitched the way it does. His hair was gelled up so his face was completely on display. But fuck, I can't take this anymore. "What the hell is with your eyeliner? You look like a total pussy, you fucker." This…I can't…

"Look at him shaking, Adam!" Brad laughed in hysterics, pointing and snickering. Drake joined in and Adam just laughed and pushed me harder into the locker, my book piercing my back through my backpack…No, I can't…Do this…

"Pussy, pussy, pussy!" They taunted me. Snapped. Broke. Released. Dead.

I snapped. I mean, I'm a pretty mellow guy, but sometimes, everyone (even pregnant freaks like me), just snap and can't take certain shit anymore. It just gets to a point where it's too much for anyone to handle. That part of you that's just evil turns into a fully raging monster and has to assault your attack. Fucking mutilate his fucking face.

I growled and pushed Adam to the ground, jumping on him and curling my hand into a fist as I pounded his face in. Over and over again. "Fuck. You. You. Fucking. BASTARD!" I screamed, gritting my teeth together and wrapping my other hand around his neck while the other one continually punched his beautiful face. I couldn't even see the pure shock and pain in his eyes, I only saw red and blood. This kind of stress can't be good for me or the kid, but Adam should have thought about that before pushing me to my fucking limit. Panting lightly, I stood up, satisfied with his blood and destroyed face. He was sitting up at this point, holding his nose and spitting out blood. He coughed and looked at me with regret. Like he just snapped out of something.

"FUCKING HELL, YOU ELF!" Brad and Drake screamed cornering me and kneeing me in the stomach. Oh, fucking hell, that can't be good. I wheezed lightly, cringing. It felt like a thousand electrical shocks shot up to my brain and just exploded. Like a part of me just died…

"WAIT! Guys, leave him alone!" The two of them looked over at Adam who looked like he was gonna faint. His hand was grasping his head and he blinked a couple times, whimpering and looking at me before falling forward and landing harshly on the ground. Oh, shit. He was in a concussion for two months, wasn't he? His body probably can't handle that kind of abuse right now.

I gasped and Brad and Drake looked like they too, were gonna faint. My stomach felt like a bitch, the baby's probably dead, and the father is on the ground, unconscious. What the HELL, man? Why can't my life go back to normal? When I was just that rebel kid no one cared about? This chapter in my life fucking sucks…

"WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?"

Well, that can't be good.

Suspension for a month. Joy, hallelujah! Jubilation! Then when I go back to fucking school, I'll be not one, not two, not three, not four, but five months pregnant. And do you know how many times I thought in my seventeen years of life that I would say I would be five months fucking pregnant? Uh, no. because, maybe, I don't know. I'm a guy. But I've ranted on that topic for like, eighteen hours already, and it doesn't get me anywhere because obviously I'm pregnant, and there's nothing I can do about it (too late for a fucking abortion, right?)

I was laying on my bed, my mother fuming downstairs. She's being such a bitch. When the principle called and told her what I did, she said Adam wasn't going to be my tutor anymore, and that I was forbidden from doing anything remotely fun for my entire month of suspension. I guess it's a catch twenty-two on that. Because on one hand, I don't have to have Adam fucking Lambert as my tutor, and on the other, I pretty much band from everything I love. Even though I haven't had much time for luxury in like forever. Fuuuuck…

I couldn't help but feel like the kick to the stomach was bad. Like, really bad. I don't know if it's motherly or fatherly instincts or whatever, but I think something like…really, really bad happened, and I have no idea what it is. To be honest, I think I'm being a bitch to this kid. I haven't been taking too good care of it. I mean, I've been trying. I've been taking these weird ass vitamins that pregnant women are suppose to take, and I eat pretty healthy. So, I'm not being all that bad to it, right? I haven't even thought of a name. But I'm giving it up for adoption, so no need to think of a name, right?

I frowned and looked at my door, making sure it was closed. Then I sighed, giving into my weak side and lifted up my shirt consciously. I cringed when I saw the black and blue bruise covering it. That can NOT be a good sign. "Shit…" I groaned, settling a bit and blushing at nothing in particular. Just kind of blushing. I chewed on my bottom lip until it began bleeding and I groaned again. "Fuck, just do it." Do it.

I took in a deep breath and began to mumble/attempted to sing the lyrics to Adam's song. "I want your body, mind, soul, etcetera, And one day you will see, you should give it to me, And I don't want anyone instead of you, Oh babe I'm gon' crazy, come on and give it to me…" I sighed. I wasn't the best singer, so why was I singing? This was merely pathetic and futile. Then I smirked when an insane idea popped into my head. I smiled a little walking over to my bass and strumming a couple chords. Okay, that sounds good. I sat in my desk chair and shut my eyes. I took in a deep breath, having Adam's voice envisioned in my head as I began to play chords for his song. It sounded pretty good, and I could feel my heart beat slower. Better for the kid, right? I exhaled, chewing my lip a little more and smiling a bit. This was the first time in a long time that I felt happy.

My fingers flew across the neck as I breathed in and out evenly. Yes, this was nice. So nice. Peaceful. So…

"Tommy."

That voice made my eyes snap open and I stared at Adam in my door frame. He was at a towering height, leaning against my wall with his tightly covered legs crossed over one another with his fucking sexy leopard boots secured to the floor. My first instinct was to tell him I was sorry, and then beat the crap out of him…but I decided to shut up. Let him speak and see what this bitch has to say for himself.

My eyes lingered to his face and I flinched lightly. He had a hideous black eye, a cut lip, and several ban-aids located in various places. I gnawed on my bottom lip. I didn't know I beat him that badly…Okay, that's a lie. For a pregnant dude, I can pack a mighty punch, so give me some credit for that, okay? You have to admit it was pretty awesome. Just not the aftermath, I guess…

"How's your stomach?" he asked, his eyebrow twitching lightly. I blushed a little and looked to the side, not responding. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Hey, listen. A lot of shit has been going on and I don't know…"

My eyes snapped back in his direction. "You're right. I should automatically forgive you for going straight back to your old ways of treating me like crap. Makes sense. Not like, I don't know…We shared a really intimate moment and then I'm shit to you again. Adam, I'm not sure if I can keep up with your mood swings. I'm the one fucking pregnant, and you have worse mood swings than me," I hissed, standing up from my chair and setting my bass against the wall. He looked down at the ground, looking genuinely ashamed. But that didn't stop my rambling. No, he needs to know what kind of shit he's been putting me through! Mentally and physically.

"I'm sorry-"

"No, I'm sick of your apologizes. They don't get us anywhere, and I'm fucking sick of feeling like we can be…boyfriends. I'm sick of it. I forgave you for a lot of crap Adam, but I'm sick of having to go through all these conversations with you. If you truly are sorry, then you're gonna have to prove to me that you changed," I said, crossing my arms and narrowing my eyes. He shuddered lightly and gnawed on his bottom lip. He cringed when the cut on it opened and he sucked on the blood. Poor, baby.

"I have something in mind…" he whispered, glancing up at me. Oh, he's clever. He had something in mind before he came here. I commend you on that, Mr. Lambert. "Um…Close your eyes. Then when you hear a noise, come to it."

Well this was freaky, but if he's got a plan, then alright, fuck it. Let's do it. I sighed and shut my eyes, fidgeting a little when I heard some rummaging around. About five minutes later I groaned a little, becoming impatient. Suddenly, the sound of rushing water filled my ears and my eyes snapped open, looking at the open bathroom. It had steam seeping out of it and I gulped lightly, sneaking into it and looking into my transparent shower. Adam was standing there, under the water, smirking like a motherfucker and staring at me, licking his lips. All he did was lift his hand up, curling his index finger towards him as an indication that I was too, and going to be in the shower. I gulped, averting my eyes to the ground and shaking my head. Did he really expect me to take a shower with him? Naked and rubbing our naked bodies against each other?

I could hear the frown in his voice, "Trust me."

That was all he said. And honestly, that's all he needed to say. Of course I was self conscious about my body now (I was fucking fat), but I could do this, right? I mean, it's not like he can kill me. Well, fuck, yes he can. Like, stab he to death with his dick (that'd be a nice way to die actually) But whatever, I'm going to try…And "trust" him.

I gulped lightly, my face burning with anticipation while I unbuckled my belt, pulling off my pants (after removing my shoes and socks) and gripping the hem of my underwear, looking at him wearily. He nodded a trusting smile on his plump lips. I blinked and slowly slid them down and just kept looking into his eyes. And he did the same, not even looking at my naked waist. And honestly, that made me feel more comfortable about the situation. Now the moment of truth. My fucking shirt. Just get it over with, Tommy. And that's what I did. I quickly stripped from my shirt and stepped into the shower, facing Adam, but allowing my eyes to stare at the wall like it was the most interesting thing there. I wouldn't trust myself not to look at his dick.

I heard him chuckle and wrap his arms around my waist, pressing his cock against mine, making me shiver and bite my bottom lip. This sensation was fucking heaven, but I'm still a bit on edge with him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. I slowly looked at him and shaking my head. He frowned deeply and took one of his hands off me and placed it under my chin so I was looking up at him. "What's wrong, boo?" BOO? WHAT THE HELL? Oh, whatever, I'm sick of trying to figure out his nicknames for me.

"I-I shouldn't be doing this. It just doesn't make any fucking sense. We are supposed to hate each other, and now we're in a shower together. I don't get it, Adam. Five months ago, you shouldn't have been my tutor. I mean, we hated each other. And you're a bipolar bitch. One minute you'll be all happy with me and the next you'll be calling me a faggot. I mean, I don't think I can take your fucking mood swings anymore! It's just-"

His lips interpreted my truthful rant and his tongue slid across my bottom lip and I moaned into his mouth, allowing entrance to be granted. He smiled a bit and leaned me against the wall, the water pounding in my ears as he gnawed on my tongue and slid one hand down to my stomach. He placed it on my bump and I hissed lightly. He quickly pulled away and looked at me oddly. I whimpered and looked away, afraid of what he might think. His thick eyebrows furrowed and he gasped when he saw the bruised gracing my flesh.

I wanted to scream at him, kick him, punch him, but I knew I couldn't. That wouldn't be right. He already has a black eye from me, so I shouldn't cause anymore harm. But fuck…That hurt…

"I'm…" He began to say something, but then stopped considering what else he could say. Then his ocean blue eyes went straight up at me and a small, innocent smile graced his plump lips. And he said something that I never, never thought I would hear come out of his mouth.

"Marry me."

My eyes widened and I looked at him like he was completely insane.

SAY WHAT?