I watch him, his eyes looking into mine as if I was something incredibly complicated he was trying to decipher.
"Can't you tell me who you are?" I ask him, hoping he'll say yes.
I told you you're not ready.
"That's bullshit, you don't want to tell me do you?"
He sighs shaking his head at me.
You won't understand, I can't tell you.
I groan tugging at my hair slightly as I run my hand through it.
"I literally know nothing about you besides your name. You could be a serial killer just sitting on my bed casually."
Well I'm not a serial killer.
He leans closer to me whispering, I'm just a psycho.
I punch him in the arm frowning at him angrily at his laughter but in the end, we both start laughing even harder.
YOU ARE READING
Unwritten «m.c.»
FanficAs kids we used to play a game called make believe, we'd pretend something was real. Adults always would laugh at us because they supposedly knew that things were ridiculous and impossible, but we thought they were. We knew the truth.
