#rockbits

“No! All right? I fucking told you already: I. Am. Over. You,” Bitter retorts between clenched teeth, on the brink of screaming, but his voice is fading in and out with cracks like a prepubescent boy as it is, and he doesn’t want to push it. He’s had laryngitis for a week, and only could return to school today, but his voice is still shot and he’s been whispering all day to try and preserve it.

Apparently, that isn’t flying with Swag. He’s asked Bitter to repeat himself, like, ten times already. It’s getting really fucking irksome.

“Hmm, no, still not getting that,” Swag replies, leaning in a bit. “Am I hearing correctly? All your rasps and whispers sound like you don’t love me, which we both know isn’t true, so just –”

“I said I want to be with Rocky!” Bitter says louder, and his voice sounds nothing like his own, but he means it.

Swag blinks back in surprise. He lowers his shades. “Excuse me? You want that flamingo-pink-haired faggot instead of awesometastic moi? How does that even make sense?”

Bitter goes to roar in frustration in Swag’s face, but when he squeezes his eyes shut and opens his mouth and lets it out, it’s nothing but a very unmanly, unthreatening squeak of rage. Like an angered kitten.

Swag snorts, then outright laughs, and wipes at his eyes. “Oh, man! I can’t even take you seriously like this! Man, I don’t even care anymore. Fine, it’s your loss. Have Rocky for all I care. Let’s just hope he picks up sign language, ‘cause it looks like your voice is gone.”