“This isn’t a fairytale.”
send a sentence for my muse’s reaction.
He pauses mid-song and looks up at the girl. Serenade attempt number twelve is a failure it seems, he’s never been serious about it anyways. “Of course it isn’t a fairytale,” he smiles, “nothing is a fairytale.” Never has he believed in them, fairytales are lies. Lies people use to delude themselves to believe in happy endings, filling the heads of children with fantasies and wonder.
“I’m assuming you didn’t like my song, though.” He laughs, rubbing the nape of his neck. “That’s cool, not many do anyways.”











