After - Justin and Andrew
Justin laid back on the bed. The guest bed, because Andrew was fucking loaded. He probably had like five cars. The sheets were probably 600 thread count. “I'm sorry,” he said.
“It happens,” Andrew said. He gently touched the scars on Justin's arm. That made Justin want to punch him, but he didn't. He guessed it might be okay because Andrew had similar scars on his thighs. “What made you do this?”
“What fucking difference does it make?” Justin said irritably.
“You're bipolar, right?” Andrew asked. “So's Bella.”
“I don't fucking want to hear about Bella,” Justin said.
“Hey, you kinda knew what you were getting yourself into.”
“You weren't supposed to want to talk about my fucking feelings,” Justin said.
“Fine, I don't care,” Andrew putting his hands behind his head. “I'm going to sleep then.”
“Really are we going for a second round?” Andrew said, opening one eye.
“Yeah, okay. Thank you. I'm fucking cured of all my problems now. That's how fucking good in bed you are,” Justin said. He put his boxers on.
“Jesus, calm down,” Andrew said. “I wouldn't have fucked you if I knew you were going to be such a little bitch about it.”
“Luke was right,” Justin said, throwing his shirt on.
“Hey...” Andrew said. He struggled to find the words.
Justin put the rest of his clothes on and walked out of the room.
“I'll call you,” Andrew shouted after him.