Joh005
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Sander snorted sarcastically, "You don't know a fucking thing about me, Robbe."
"You think? Look at you, Sander. The mysterious, dark boy who only wears black clothes and uses art as a coping mechanism. You're such a fucking cliché."
One more step. Sander was already so close. Robbe could already hear the blond boy's deep breath. His smell invading Robbe. And fuck, that was a good smell.
"Want to talk about clichés, skater boy, for real? The same boy that only wears clothes too big for his little body? Who's always either drunk or high? That thinks the world is always against him, that one?"
Bookmarked by Joh005
05 Mar 2020