#crying om

James was fuming. He couldn't remember ever being this mad in his entire life. Except maybe when he and Sammy got in the fight.

But that wasn't even anythign relevant.

Now, he was pissed. "MOTHER!" He yelled. "MOTHER! WHERE THE FUCK IS MY WHITE SHIRT?!"

He couldn't find it. Where the hell was it? The dance was 3 hours away, and he was going to be late. "I NEED IT. RIGHT. THIS. SECOND." 

His mother scurried up the stairs, holding out his newly ironed shirt. "Thank you, mother." James sighed. He had to have it cleaned up well, dry cleaned and pressed, since the day he'd spilled coffee on it in order to try and distract Joseph from something. Now, it didn't seem as worth it.

"I'm going to be LATE!" He cried out in anguish.

"James. You're being dramatic again." His mother pointed out.

James just closed the door in her face. "I do NOT need that type of language, MOTHER."

He continued getting dressed, until he looked in the mirror, making his most serious face, and slid his mask on. "Perfecto." James whispered to himself. 

He strode down the stairs. "Mother, put the camera away." James said, walking straight out the door without pause. He didn't want to be late picking up Joseph. That would be terribly embarrassing.

Driving to his boyfriend's house, he turned on The Phantom Of The Opera soundtrack, singing "Masquerade" as loud and obnoxiously as he could. It wasn't his fault, really. He'd had the damn song stuck in his head ever since they'd announced the theme.