storytellergirl

[lifesupreme-if]

Dear author,

Please tell Dylan I love her very much and that she's beautiful💜

Sincerely,

-Dylan simp

tell her yourself!!!!!!!!!! she'd be so happy!!!!!!!!

___

"heyy"

Delivered 1:43 AM

Lost in the thunder of the bass, the vibration of her holophone hardly makes an impression. It takes two more messages before she even notices the flicker of her screen lighting up, muted beneath violet strobe.

"yourerpwrryy"

"*prettyyyyyyy"

"Hold on," she calls out to the dancer, stumbling clumsily to a halt. He leans against the wall, hooking skinny thumbs into the pockets of his hotpants. Waiting, easily. He's done this before.

To receive a declaration of love from the one that holds your heart, is to light up completely. To receive a drunken text at 2 in the morning, is good enough. For Dylan, anyway.

She studies every heavy-handed letter smashed into your text, tucks stringy hair behind her ear as if ready to dive deeper in. Sucking in a hopeful breath, she responds. Quickly. Lightly. Don't want to overthink it this time.

"Are you having a good night out?"

Three dots. You're typing.

"beauroful eveb"

"night in. claude came over we and syeph are drinking"

"what are youdling beauriful <3"

But there's something different, in the way you talk to her now: something there that you wouldn't have said before. No hesitation. Pretty. Beautiful. Maybe she's wrong for wanting you to mean it, but she doesn't reject it. Her heart soars.

What was she doing? She gazes through a sparkling crowd, one of prosthetic limbs and body glittered tits, until she spots him: A gangly braindance star, motifs of the Mox tattooed up and down his arms. Another night spent looking for skinship in all the wrong places. Another night spent longing for your company, instead.

"Nothing much. Pics or it didn't happen!"

As her screen comes to life with the image of You, she gawks. Gapes. Finds a warmth in her chest that spreads, squeezing her tighter than anyone she could take home tonight. The picture is blurry, but your visage in unmistakable. The forehead scar from a job gone wrong. A smile she could live in forever. You're beautiful, she thinks. You're pretty.

And she loves you.

"gotta go to sleeppretty2goodnight<3"

"i love tou"

"Uou"

"You"

"I love you, too," she breathes, and for once, she doesn't cry. There's only joy to be celebrated here. She wouldn't like to ruin it with tears.

"What?" Her forgotten companion still looms, lingering now against the door to the back booths. His fingers rap against his thigh in anticipation, aggravation, good old-fashioned impatience. "Are we doing this or not? 'Cause you're acting pretty weird now. You don't have an input, do you? I'm not getting my ass beat for some gonk's girlfriend."

Dylan's cheeks heat up, burning with a hint of mortification. Or reality. Whichever hits harder. "No, I don't... er, sorry—" She heaves a sigh, shoulders dropping heavily. "We're not doing this tonight."

"Thanks for your time!" As if she could cushion the blow, she waves a hand to his back as he disappears into the crowd. "That was a stupid thing to say. Ugh."

Left alone to brave the bustle of the room once more, the neon overhead and electric pink murals have lost their modern charm. There's only one place she'd like to be now, only one person she wants to call home.

Speaking of, as her phone buzzes softly in her hands, calling forth her infinite attention for you.

"very much"

"i love tou very much. night"

The soft skin of her lip bursts as she gnaws delicately, the smile on her face stinging as she begins to taste blood. You love her. You said you love her.

"Tell me that again in the morning and see what happens. :P Goodnight."

A final, cheeky reply as she heads out into the night, the cool air chilling the sweat on her skin. She'll be cautious with your heart. After all, she's had to work for it for so long.