@headchild | starter call.
Dandy had been crying into his pillow for the past ten minuets. It wasn’t unusual for the young Mott to return home from town in tears. Nobody understood him. Nobody understood who he was. Nobody understood what he was. Nobody seen him for the God he is.
Why didn’t people fall to their knees when he walked by? Why didn’t ladies throw their panties at him? Why didn’t he get a free piece of cheese cake when passing the store after winking at the lady behind the counter?
He didn’t understand that he came off as a little creepy. Dandy thought he was perfect and he was, on the outside but on the inside he was nothing short of a freak-show.
A delusional psychopath.
“Tell me I’m good,” Dandy murmured from his damp pillow before turning and facing Keith, who was nothing more than a figment of his imagination.
His face was red from the screaming into his pillow. The snot ran from his nose and onto his bottom lip and his eyes puffed out due to the steam of tears. “Tell me how good I am, tell me how great I am.” He curled into a slight ball, which was a hint for Keith to get behind and cuddle him.
