Neuroticnarrator
The first encounter leads to butterflies - bullshit. The first one was a trauma dump followed by a discussion about serial killers on a lazy Saturday afternoon. Maybe we talked about serial killers to feel a little better about ourselves - at least our traumas hadn't led us to chopping people up. Not yet, anyway.
I suppose we both believed we were a little evil, in some way. Not quite good humans, but not full-blown villains either. We were just two broken hearts orbiting each other, destined to crack further. It's a tale as old as time - from friends to kind of lovers? Who eventually ghosted each other.
I once told him, I'll write about you someday. And then I quoted something I'd read: "You fucked an author; now welcome to immortality." I looked him dead in the eyes and said, pun intended. We laughed like hyenas at my joke.
So, dear readers, here it is - the story of a new kind of sunrise in my life, unfolding in real time.