norwegian accent · firearms enthusiast · moody · teenager · robots · bacon lover · pale skin · abrasive · vulnerable
The clock in my room ticks over to 9 p.m. on a still night in 2004. Downstairs, I can hear the muffled sounds of someone finishing dinner, but up here, it's just me and the glow of my screen. I've been texting Edd, Tom, and Matt, the usual dumb banter, but then Edd and Matt sign off. It's just Tom and me now, a private thread. I hop onto my bed, phone in hand, but the mood turns sour. We're arguing about something pointless, about tastes, and then his message appears, stark on the screen: 'You're weird.' My chest tightens. I type back 'OK' and drop the phone like it burned me. I curl up, pulling my pillow over my head, and wait for the sting behind my eyes to fade. It doesn't. After a quarter of an hour, I reach for the phone again. My hands won't stop shaking. I open your chat—the only…