Categories > Original > Romance
Forget the Old
0 reviewsCH 1. The beginning. Meet me, Ryan, as I pack up and head out to a new town. This is the start to an M/M romance. (NOTE: decided not to finish this story. >>;)
0Unrated
I woke up to the sound of an old man talking about how Oprah had died last week. Of course, I had forgotten to turn off the stupid TV before I fell asleep, again. I sat up, wiped the sleep out of my eyes and threw my legs over the side of the couch.
"They say it was natural causes, but others think differently..." the voice kept going on and on and on. Who the hell would care about this shit? I snatched up the remote and quickly changed the channel to something less boring. The sun was halfway up in the sky already, I must've stayed up late reading again and lost track of time. Fuck. Late on the first day of my new job. Just fucking great. I looked around for my book, and found it on the little ebony coffee table next to the couch. I looked at it's cover and sighed. This damned book was the only thing I had left of the man I loved, other than memories. He left me for some stupid cunt. Didn't even say a word. He just left me, and took all his stuff- except that book. I've read it about 13 times since then, and evertime I did, I thought of him the whole time. Sad? Yeah, but that was the only guy I had ever really loved. Probably ever would.
I decided that I wasn't going to bother with work, it was a shitty job anyways. I'll probably just find a better gig when I move. I had already found a nice apartment, and a place that I could probably play at. All I had to do was throw my shit in the car and drive. Something urged me to go that day. I don't know what it was, but I just had a feeling that if I left today, I would be doing something right. So, I did.
After having a tussle with shoving everything into my car, I locked up the house, gave the keys to the owner of the apartment complex, and got the hell out of the town that held me down for so long. It felt good to get out of there. Away from all the dramatic assholes that inhabited it, away from all the memories that haunted me at night, or when I read that bloody book.
I take it whoever is reading this stupid story is wondering who I am. I'm a 21 year old male. That's right, a dude. I'm gay. Got a problem with it? Fuck you. I can't help who I fall in love with. Besides, 99% of girls are moody little bitches. Anyways, I've got semi-short hair that nearly covers my left eye. It's black, dyed of course. I wear 'guy liner'. Not that much, just a little. My wardrobe mostly contains skinny/slim jeans, band tees, and studded belts. My name's Ryan, by the way.
I'm not that much of a people person, but I love to dance. Before my boyfriend left me, we'd go clubbing every weekend, sometimes even twice. Those are the nights that I long for, the ones that I cannot forget no matter how badly it hurts to think about him.
"They say it was natural causes, but others think differently..." the voice kept going on and on and on. Who the hell would care about this shit? I snatched up the remote and quickly changed the channel to something less boring. The sun was halfway up in the sky already, I must've stayed up late reading again and lost track of time. Fuck. Late on the first day of my new job. Just fucking great. I looked around for my book, and found it on the little ebony coffee table next to the couch. I looked at it's cover and sighed. This damned book was the only thing I had left of the man I loved, other than memories. He left me for some stupid cunt. Didn't even say a word. He just left me, and took all his stuff- except that book. I've read it about 13 times since then, and evertime I did, I thought of him the whole time. Sad? Yeah, but that was the only guy I had ever really loved. Probably ever would.
I decided that I wasn't going to bother with work, it was a shitty job anyways. I'll probably just find a better gig when I move. I had already found a nice apartment, and a place that I could probably play at. All I had to do was throw my shit in the car and drive. Something urged me to go that day. I don't know what it was, but I just had a feeling that if I left today, I would be doing something right. So, I did.
After having a tussle with shoving everything into my car, I locked up the house, gave the keys to the owner of the apartment complex, and got the hell out of the town that held me down for so long. It felt good to get out of there. Away from all the dramatic assholes that inhabited it, away from all the memories that haunted me at night, or when I read that bloody book.
I take it whoever is reading this stupid story is wondering who I am. I'm a 21 year old male. That's right, a dude. I'm gay. Got a problem with it? Fuck you. I can't help who I fall in love with. Besides, 99% of girls are moody little bitches. Anyways, I've got semi-short hair that nearly covers my left eye. It's black, dyed of course. I wear 'guy liner'. Not that much, just a little. My wardrobe mostly contains skinny/slim jeans, band tees, and studded belts. My name's Ryan, by the way.
I'm not that much of a people person, but I love to dance. Before my boyfriend left me, we'd go clubbing every weekend, sometimes even twice. Those are the nights that I long for, the ones that I cannot forget no matter how badly it hurts to think about him.
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