Christophers death

Christophers death

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WpMetadataReadEn cours d'écriture59 m
WpMetadataNoticeDernière publication mer., avr. 19, 2023
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Fanfiction
My name is Alan Turing. I am 17 years old, and I go to the Sherborne school in Dorset, England. It's a boarding school for boys, just like me, though there is a thing which makes me different. I'm going to finish school next year and then I'm going to study in Kings College, Cambridge, on a scholarship. But this story isn't about me, it is more to process my feelings towards my dead friend, Christopher Morcom. (Happy 110 birthday to Alan Turing, he has done such great things in his sadly short life! May he rest in peace <3) Let me know if you like this story and if I should continue with it
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Pretty Boy How could you exactly define yourself as being pretty? Is keeping myself high, be enough? Would the wounds around my body, mark me as to being one? Could drowning myself with alcohol guarantee me into feeling like that? Because if it does, then I guess being wrecked and having an obscure life are things that could be defined as being pretty. But, being pretty comes with a cost, and seeing your friend as to being one is just plainly forbidden. But what if the forbidden nature of it all, could come falling into a mess that's nowhere near as pretty as him. Would it fall into shattered pieces or could it fix what is already broken? And would the love that both of them are willing to give each other be enough to overpower the bigger repercussions that'll probably come out of it? [Smut Included]

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