I am ME [ftm transgender boyxboy]

[17] Hollow Hearts Unite

A/N: Oh my god guys, it's chapter 17. It's almost over oh god. My first book is almost over. Holy shit. Is it possible for me to have postpartum depression?????

Anywhore; that last chapter was shite at the end, I swtg that was so embarrassing to reread and just- I'm so sorry. I will be editing it and shizz.

I hope y'all like this chapter, and it's only getting more mushy and disgustingly romantic. Deal with it. I also think I may update again today. //strokes my beard thoughtfully//

Ily

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[PRESTON'S POV]

I woke up to a soft bed; but a cold bed. My heavy arms stretched, reaching into the empty sheets, searching for his warmth. But for some reason, he wasn't there.

It had been several days since I'd gone and seen my mom, and everything had significantly improved. I started to become the boy I was before my 'breakdown', and I started smiling again. My cynical comments had returned full tilt, something that made Jesse grumble like a toddler. The idiot.

Lonnie had slept in the same bed with me every night, and we would wake up next to each other in the morning. And every morning, like clockwork, I marveled at the ludicrous notion that the perfect boy curled up against me, loved me just as much as I loved him. Because I did. I did love him.

And it was a weird feeling that I almost couldn't describe. It was like a stomach ache that you actually like, and heartburn that you welcome with open arms. Every time he kissed me, my lips tingled and felt like they were burning. Whenever he would touch me, even an accidental brush of fingers, my skin would flame and my insides turned to mush.

So it was odd that he wasn't here with me to wake up.

In fact, one morning, he needed to pee so bad that he almost pissed himself but waited until I got up to go to the bathroom. His reasoning was that he wanted to be the first thing I saw when I woke up. I called him a dumbass.

I rolled over, arching my back and stretching like a cat. My eyes drifted around the dark room, training on the clock Lonnie knocked on the floor last night because he somehow manages to trip over literally nothing.

ANYWAY.

It was actually only one thirty, and I narrowed my eyes in concern. Lonnie was a heavier sleeper than fucking Rip Van Winkle, so he wouldn't be up at one a.m., unless he never went to sleep in the first place. And Lonnie insisted that I fall asleep before him so I had no idea if my suspicion held any ground.

The sound of the shower suddenly registered in my mind.

"That's weird," I muttered to myself.

Who takes a shower at one a.m.?

I heaved a sigh and lifted myself from the loving embrace of my sheets to go find my idiot boyfriend.

Yeah.

Lovely.

I padded across the hardwood floor; Lonnie's Jack Skellington pajama pants completely engulfing my legs and dragging across the ground.

Note to self; buy my own pajamas.

Second note to self; tall boyfriends are adorable, but not good when it comes to clothes.

Third note to se-

Wait what?

I strained my ears, standing outside the bathroom that connected to our bedroom.