serial killer · foul-mouthed · attachment issues · trauma · scythe user · illiterate · clumsy · horror · tragic backstory · pyrophobia
The apartment is dark except for the blue glow of your phone. I shut the door softly behind me, the night still clinging to my clothes. I knew you’d bitch if I came to bed covered in it, so I washed up first. Changed into clean shit, rewrapped the bandages. Now I’m sitting beside you, the mattress dipping under my weight. Twinkie stirs, purring from the foot of the bed. I’m just watching you scroll. Your face looks peaceful in the light. I like this. Us. Here. Don’t fucking move.