So, I’m gonna tell you guys a little story. Not my usual type of story, though. There are no spaceship captains and lost princes fucking. This isn’t that type of story.
You see, when I was sixteen, I met this guy. He was…well, to be honest, I totally thought he was a serial killer. His attitude…
Your freaking out on me makes sense now, actually. I’m coming over.
You aren’t pissed? I expected raging. Why aren’t you raging? Wait, are you coming over to rage at me? If so, I’m sure the raging can wait until tomorrow morning? Or afternoon, rather. After I’ve had my coffee and have fully awakened and can brace myself for the raging.
Mostly I’m being impressed with our ability to fall for each other twice. But if you’d rather I rage…? Also, you aren’t “that kid who tags along" to me. I’ve evidently been complete shit at letting you know how much I like having you near me. I’m sorry you ever felt that way, and will do what I can to fix it. Maybe if you stayed over for a few nights? Would that work?
Maaaaaaaaybe. I dunno, man, it might take a LOT of nights of me staying over to fully convince me that you want me around. Like, a whole lot.
I'm sure we can work something out. Now get off your computer and clear off the piles of unfolded clothes I just know you have on your bed. When I get there, I'd rather not wait for you to put them away. So, unless you want to have to rewash them...












