you'll always know me, 𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚.
❪ ⭐️ ❫
𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇...
dorothea williams moves back to
her little farm town after moving
her senior year, not knowing that
what she left behind was beyond
more than a simple love story.
ᯓ★
matt sturn...
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six. good morning, dorothea ! real life...
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tw: mention of death (in the form of suicide)
FALLING ASLEEP AFTER ALL OF THAT was something dorothea couldn't quite see herself doing, so when they finished checking around the house, and matt started talking about leaving, her throat closed up. she thought it was because she was scared, but she knew it had to be much deeper than that. and she hated it. how was he able to make her feel like this after five years? five years, not a single word or encounter, and yet he still was able to make her feel like she did at eighteen. she had to constantly remind herself for the past thirty minutes that she was, in fact, twenty-three and moving back to chicago in a week or two. she couldn't keep holding onto the past like this.
"you're sure you want me to go home?" matt asked dorothea, his hand on the already unlocked door knob. he was making sure because her eyes still looked like she could stay up for the next two days. he also really hated the idea of leaving her here and not knowing what was going on at all times.
"yeah, i'll be fine." she lied, not needing any more fuel added to this fire that she was now desperately trying to blow out.
"'kay, text me if you need me. i'm serious. and if you get another one of those notes, i am calling the police," he said sternly. they decided earlier that they weren't going to call the police in case it was just some dumb prank, but he wasn't going to be fucking around if she got another one.
dorothea nodded her head in understanding, "bye, matt."
eyes on her, he opened the door, putting only half of his body through before responding, "bye, thea." then he shut the door.
after dorothea locked the door back up, she was now left to be alone, and it didn't feel at all right. every little creak the house made gave her the impression that she was being watched. besides that it was completely silent, the only other thing she could hear was the hands ticking on the clock in the living room. counting every second her fear grew. of course it could be pure paranoia, but that still didn't change the fact that she wouldn't be able to sleep tonight.
