A succession of bangs roused me from a deep, well-earned sleep. I open my eyes to find a dark, very attractive-looking man looming over me.
"Don't even start," I grumbled, tossing my arm over my eyes to block out the light.
"I have a hickey. I'm mostly naked. I can't find my clothes. I very vividly remember finding out some seriously disturbing shit about you yesterday. And I woke up in your bed, with the hangover of a lifetime. I don't remember a thing that happened after I met you to talk at Rogue's last night."
His voice got increasingly louder as he went on and I wanted to tell him to just shut up, but I didn't have the energy.
"You stink," I realized, shoving him away.
He grabbed my arm and pulled, yanking me right off the couch. I quickly started to lose what little patience I had.
"What did you give me?" he yelled.
I snapped. I completely lost it.
When my eyes opened, he was standing over me and I grabbed his leg, knocking him to the ground. I quickly pinned him there and glared down at him.
"What did I give you? Are you kidding me?" I hollered, as he struggled to get away from me.
"Get off of me, you rapist faggot."
"Hey, you stupid fucker, look at me," I growled. When he didn't listen, I held him down tighter, but he still refused to meet my eyes. I was so upset I didn't even consider the fact that we were rolling around in nothing but our underwear. "What is wrong with you? You know me! Just because one thing changed, it doesn't mean that I'm some terrible monster. Yes, I am gay. Yes, I do want to fuck you, but I'm not going to rape you. Jesus Christ. How can you even think that of me?"
"Because you're a lying piece of shit. You put the hickey on my neck, who knows what else you did to me last night. You're a sick freak."
"Fuck you," I said, letting him go and standing up. "Your clothes are in the dryer." I grabbed his keys and chuckled them at him, satisfied when he winced as they connected with his chest. "There are your keys. You're welcome for washing your clothes, and you're welcome for saving you from getting your ass kicked, and you're welcome for being a friend and making sure you didn't end up as road kill. Good luck getting your puke out of your car's upholstery. I hope you have a nice goddamn life, you prick."
I finished by slamming the door in his face after throwing his dried laundry at him through the window while he stood on my patio in his underwear.
After a few minutes, he finally made it out to his car dressed. I watched as he opened the driver's side door. I'm sure the smell was atrocious because he immediately took a step back. Then he looked inside.
He raised his hands up and threw them down onto the hood of his car, hard. Three times he pounded onto the top of his car. Once it seemed he was satisfied with doing that, he grabbed his hair and leaned his head down to rest it against the car. At last, he jumped into the driver's seat and sped away, squealing out of my driveway like a man on the run.