Page 39 of Freddie

Why did some part of me think he might have loved me back? Now he’s fucking singing. While packing. While leaving me. I have to get out of here. Before I say something dumb like, ‘don’t leave, I love you even though all I am is your Dom.’ Yeah right. The worst Dom to exist. I couldn’t even keep a contract with a sub without breaking it. I shake my head as I hear the singing get louder as Freddie comes back into the kitchen.

“Everything okay there, honey bear?” His soft smile, which he only reserves for me, adorns his pale, beautiful face, and I almost break out in tears there and then.

I nod, but that’s not enough for him.

“Did you burn the chicken? No need for the upset, I’ll phone down to that Indian place and get them to send us some chicken chaat,” he tells me as he moves towards the island where he must have sat his phone.

“No,” I manage, unable to look up at him.

“Simmons, what the fuck? Has something serious happened? You’re not acting your usual stoic self,” he says, and although he’s making a joke, his tone is serious. Time to rip the band-aid off, I suppose.

“When were you going to tell me?” He has the audacity to look confused until I clarify it further for him.

Pointing to the boxes I can see in the hall, I ask him, “When were you going to give me the courtesy of knowing that you’re going home? Back to Scotland. That’s what those boxes are for, right? It’s why you’re singing?”

“Simmons… no. What?” But I can’t listen to him let me down. My chest is tight and if I don’t leave soon, I think I might pass out from my heartbreaking.

Putting my hand out as I stand, I just shake my head. Another sub. Another gone. Destined to be alone because of my massive fuckups.

“Simmons, are you going to bloody listen or just leave? Don’t walk out on me without hearing my side,” he growls as I storm past him and grab my coat. Dizzy and scared of what he will say next, I head for the front door.

“What the fuck? You’re giving up on us because of an assumption? Listen for two bloody minutes and I’ll tell you what you so clearly think is happening is not what you think,” he yells as he follows me. A coward, I only turn to say goodbye and look only at my feet as I mumble it.

“Goodbye? Well, fuck you then, Simmons. I thought this meant more to you than a D/s contract. That I meant more. Just look at me for thirty goddamn seconds.”

I can hear the hurt in his voice, but it only angers me. Lifting my gaze to his, he has unshed tears glistening as he chews his bottom lip. He looks terrified, but it makes no sense.

“You do mean more, Freddie! Don’t you see that? And you’re fucking leaving. I knew you would go home at some point, but now? I thought I meant more to you. I can’t stay here. I’m a fool for thinking someone so promiscuous and free-spirited would want to be tied down. Too bratty and selfish for this to be serious. I should have known better,” I cry out. Knowing I’ve gone too far but too angry and hurt to stop the word vomit of hurt that I’ve hurled his way.

Freddie wipes his tears that are now dripping onto the hardwood floor and shakes his head at me.

“Fuck you, Simmons. Would someone too bratty and too selfish, too promiscuous and free-spirited give you their virginity? Yeah, didn’t fucking think so. And by the way, the boxes are for my old shoes that I am sending to Stacey, who I was on the phone with before I got home,” he argues with so much venom.

Like the fucking moron I am, I just stand there with the front door half open, gaping at this perfect boy’s confession. Knowing that I have finally and truly nailed the coffin that is our relationship shut with my accusations.

“You were a… “ is all I stutter out, my brow furrowed in realisation, before he’s moving forward, placing his hands on my chest. And as he pushes me out of his flat and out of his life, the saddest look I have ever seen on the love of my life’s face etches itself into my brain forever along with the loudest bang as he shuts the door on me.

Chapter 42

Freddie

“FUUUUUUUUUUUCK,” I scream as I slam my bedroom door once I’ve kicked Simmons out . Falling onto my pillows, I don’t even care about my messy makeup ruining my silk pillowcases.

Fuck him and fuck his horrible backwards attitude. How could he say those things to me? Yeah, I might act bratty and promiscuous, and to the everyday person, they might assume I’m a little slutty. I write a sex blog, love the kinks I have openly and love a slut drop at the clubs. But Simmons… my god, I thought he had seen me for my true self.

A boy with passion and confidence. Vulnerable and lonely, just as much as I saw he was too. We were teetering on a talk about our feelings and the fact that the D/s contract was basically gathering dust at this point. But to hear him just completely dismiss me, just like the hospital all over again. It was infuriating.

I had to calm down. I wasn’t the type to slam doors with anger, but with how I feel about that big prick, I can’t control my emotions at the moment.

Man, he was gonna owe me the biggest night of my life at Nyctra plus a month of iced coffees if he wanted to undo this argument. That’s if we survive this. But fuck, I love him. I love him more than my work. My home in Scotland. Fuck. We had been in such a whirlwind of erotic succession that I had barely stopped to think about the future.

The one in which he clearly thinks I’m going to leave soon and with him here and me drinking Irn Bru in the Highlands while fucking my way through an onslaught of kilted men because I’m too immature or whatever to settle down or have a long distance relationship. Rolling onto my back, I swipe at my tears that are now dried to my face and pout into the abyss at my misery.

Stacey called after my swim to tell me that her school was putting on a production of Grease. After squealing like a banshee, I listened as she told me she needed boots for herself and her friend, who was my size. So I picked up some boxes at the shop up the road and thought I’d post them first thing so she had them in plenty of time.

Then came home to a clusterfuck of my boyfriend or whatever Simmons is. All looking domestic, making me a post-workout meal. Smelling of honey and all man. Fuck him and his attitude, honestly.

Huffing, I hear vibrating from somewhere and get off the bed with a groan to go find my phone. Shit on it. My parents. With one last swipe to my blotchy face, I answer it with the fakest hello and smile I can muster. Might have known. They don’t buy it.