Are You Happy? // Bo Burnham Fanfiction

•Nine•

Chapter: Nine | POV: [Y/N]

Bo and I decided to watch his comedy special again, since we fell asleep during it. We sat on the couch, same way as yesterday, and Bo lets what he calls his 'stage persona' take care of the talking. "Then when we 69, I can call it 'yin-yanging.'" I start wheezing with laughter, and Bo tells me to calm down. I eventually do, but a few minutes later I remember the joke, and start to crack up again. He eventually pauses the special, and stares at me. Why wouldn't you stop and look at some girl who just started laughing hysterically at something she randomly remembered? "Okay, I think you can calm down now," Bo says, since I'm still laughing. I eventually laugh so hard I fall off the couch, and now Bo is laughing at me.

I stop immediately and stare at him. "What do you think you're doing? Laughing at somebody who just hurt themselves? How dare, unsubswibble," I say, crossing my arms and turning around like a five-year-old. He JUST SO HAPPENED to fall off the couch, next to me, may I add, and we stare at each other for a good few minutes, examining each other's faces. We then start to laugh again, and we stumble to the kitchen. For what, I don't know exactly. Wait. "Hey, my dad left some whiskey here a while ago," I say, grabbing it from the cabinet above one of the counters.

Bo grabs the whiskey from my hand, and slams his other hand on the counter. "Glasses. Now," he says, and I laugh, grabbing two shot glasses and two regular sized glasses. I put them on the counter, and we gave each other a menacing grin.

"Fight me," I say, and grab the whiskey from him, pouring shots. "To, uh,"

"To whiskey!" Bo says and I shrug, and we take the shots. It felt like fire going down our throats, but we didn't care. One, two, three, four shots down. Bo had two more, and I decided he should stop. He's such a tree, he could probably break something if he fell onto it hard enough. Eventually, after Bo started to "sob" because I put the shot glasses in the dishwasher, I poured us two normal glasses and we sat on the couch again. "You know, you're really pretty," he slurs, and I smirk.

"Hahahaha, too pretty for you, loser," I slur, and run my fingers through his hair. He grabs my hand, and intertwined our fingers. "What do you think you're doing?" I say, and try to pull my hand away.

Bo makes his grip on my hand much more strong, he's quite strong for such a skinny guy. "You know what?" He leans in towards me ear, and whispers, "that wasn't my ex girlfriend."

"Really? You lied to me?" I ask, and begin to be upset. "Why?"

"Oh come onnn, [Y/N]. Don't you want to be with meee?" He purrs into my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. No, don't give in. Get him to explain.

"Obviously, Bo, you're great. But why'd you lie?" I ask, and finally get out of his grasp.

"Because I wanted to hold your hand, okay? What, am I not ALLOWED TO want to do that? I thought that you were happy when I was holding your hand," He asks, becoming more sober with every word. How is that even POSSIBLE? "I thought that you stopped because you liked me in some way...Guess not," he finishes, gets up, and grabs his comedy special, putting it back in the case. It seems like he's not in a very good mood anymore. He starts shuffling towards the kitchen, and I become concerned.

I stand up, well, fell over then got up, and tried to follow him. "I'm sorrrry, where are you going?" He turned around, laying his eyes on me, and walks upstairs. He mumbles something I couldn't understand, and goes in my room. "You could've TOLD me you were going to get changed, jeez!" I yell, and jump down the stairs.

Bo comes back downstairs with his bag in hand. "Hey, uh, I think I should, uh, I should, ugh, I'm going to go home," he stumbles trying to find the correct words, and he quickly shuffles to my front door.

"Bo, wait," I call, and get to the door, roughly five feet between us, "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," he says, but instead of stepping back in, he slammed my front door shut.