Chapter Text
The low hum of his laptop was the only sound in Mickey’s room.
It had to be, if he wanted to scroll in peace.
Terry had split a few days before. Maybe two or three, maybe more. Mickey couldn’t remember. But he’d be back. He always came back.
It felt weird. Being here. Being back here, in his old room. Sandwiched between Mandy’s room and Terry’s, between cracked plaster and ripped posters and memories he was desperate to evict from his already-overcrowded brain.
The internet is a cesspool he’d say, over and over, every time Mandy or Iggy tried to get him to download another app onto his cracked phone. It’s fun, trust me. There’s something out there for everyone. Everyone’s plug is on Snapchat these days, you’d make a killing.
Mickey pushed back against all of it, until he’d caught Mandy scrolling on some dark blue website full of those stupid artsy pictures she loved.
“The fuck’s that?” he’d asked, shoving his way through the door with a box full of shit for Iggy and Colin to take to their fence over on South Wallace. He set the box down on the table, right next to Mandy’s laptop, just to make her mad.
It worked. She glared at her brother, blue eyes shooting daggers at an identical pair across the table.
“Tumblr,” she said. “Fuck off.”
And that was the end of their conversation.
He’d gone back to his old room, fully intending to take a nap before fucking off to find more shit to steal and sell. Unfortunately for Mickey, the more cagey someone was about something, the more it intrigued him.
Many months later, he’d wonder if his caginess would ever have the same effect.
tumbler had autocorrected to tumblr and brought him to a page with a similar dark blue background, two rectangular boxes prompting him to enter his email and password. Just below was a button that said “Sign Up” along with three options – Google, Apple, or email.
He clicked “email” and three minutes later, fcku-up was born.
The tribute to his fading knuckle tats wasn’t exactly intentional, but he’d heard Mandy talking about something called a personal brand which, to his understanding, meant someone’s “thing” – plants, travel, food, blah blah blah.
He didn’t have a lot going for him, much less anything that could be branded. His tattoos were the only thing about himself he found interesting, for their history and their meaning, so that’s where his mind wandered to.
They had been branded, in a way.
Maybe it was more intentional than he’d originally thought.
Setting up his account was harder than he thought. He didn’t know shit about social media and he didn’t understand how to find people to follow. There were two pages, “following” and “for you” – most of the shit on the “for you” page was pretty fuckin’ generic, but he guessed that made sense. It was a brand new account, and he didn’t have any social media presence whatsoever.
It was probably hard for the website to peg his tastes so early on.
He’d gotten overwhelmed quickly and closed his laptop. He didn’t log in again for three weeks, when a night of welcome boredom at the house following Terry’s arrest at the Alibi prompted him to find something to pass the time.
email: [email protected]. password: mick08101999
Now, where were we?
**
Once he figured out what he was doing, he realized it was actually kind of fun.
He didn’t have many points of reference regarding social media. No matter how much Mandy and Iggy bullied him about it, he’d never had an Instagram account or a Twitter. Colin was on his side, but even he’d mentioned that Mickey would definitely make more money dealing if he made a Snapchat.
Snapchat. Even the name felt juvenile.
Tumblr was different, or so he assumed.
From what he understood, apps like Instagram and Snapchat were geared towards people who actually went out and did stuff. The entire point of them, according to Mandy, was to show off what you Had and what you Did in order to seem more interesting to your friends and family. That concept irritated Mickey to his very core. Living for other people had never been his thing, not if it didn’t have to be. Not if it wasn’t for the sake of self-preservation.
But tumblr…it didn’t seem to matter that much. It was more about the content – the creators – than anything else. The main difference, in Mickey’s eyes, was that Tumblr didn’t let you see anyone else’s follower count, only your own. Someone with multiple viral posts may only have 30 followers, while someone with 0 notes on their text posts might have 5,000. It was impossible to tell, and Mickey liked that.
Despite that, he’d come to the conclusion that the way people’s posts performed was usually reflective of follower count or notoriety. Not always, but usually. At the very least, it helped him flush out who was new and fumbling around like he was, and who had been there for a while.
Suggested accounts: eternitysgate
The icon was a painting of a man with his face in his hands, in a style Mickey found vaguely familiar. It was week two of actually using the account, and this was the first thing he’d seen when he logged into the mobile app on his phone.
He clicked on the account.
Seeking // Striving
ian. 21. new york. on the hunt for something magical.
talk to me?
On the hunt for something magical. What kind of ridiculous bio was that?
Whatever.
He clicked out of the page, forgetting about it for an entire week until the account showed up on his dashboard.
godslittleasshole reblogged eternitysgate: I see drawings and pictures in the poorest of huts and the dirtiest of corners. – Vincent Van Gogh
He recognized the username and clicked it, just above the original post. When he did, it took him to eternitysgate’s reblog and his tags.
there’s something profound in finding beauty in the broken things
Fuckin’ sappy ass bullshit.
Still.
Mickey clicked the icon, the image of the depressed man, and immediately, “Seeking // Striving” popped up in an in-browser window.
ian. 21. new york.
Mickey had never been to New York, but he’d heard about it. Loud. Busy. Kinda dirty. Maybe not as dirty as what he’d grown accustomed to, but close. But they did have a giant fuckin’ garden in the middle of the city. That was ironic as hell. He had to respect it.
He’d thought about going there. Running away. Either there or Pittsburg. He had quite a few connections back east.
there’s something profound in finding beauty in the broken things
Broken things.
Okay, fine. Follow.
**
Mickey was confused at first, why this guy’s page was mostly asks. It seemed like for every picture or gif set he reblogged, he had four or five asks just below it. It seemed more like a way for the guy to blow smoke up his own ass than anything else. A confidence booster. An artificial sense of validation.
Still.
When he clicked follow, it reasoned that he would start seeing the guy on his dashboard. He hadn’t checked the blog itself, the content it hosted, until after he’d pressed the button.
Anonymous asked: you’re gay?
eternitysgate answered: you must be new here 👀
Anonymous asked: how many people have you slept with?
eternitysgate answered: how many people have YOU slept with?
spamofgreengables asked: any thoughts on the Met Gala?
eternitysgate answered: no
Anonymous asked: are you a top or a bottom?
eternitysgate answered: i’m a Taurus
Mickey would never admit it, but the guy was kind of funny. He had a dry sense of humor that appealed to Mickey immediately.
He also seemed like someone that wouldn’t fuck up his mood when he’d finally set it straight, by way of a nice mindless scroll. That shit helped. The scrolling.
Mickey typically hated the concept of mindless, endless scrolling. TikTok, or at least what Mandy had shown him, appeared to be one of those apps. He’d heard about people watching God knows What and God knows Who on their tiny screens for hours at a time.
He didn’t understand it.
Tumblr was different. It made sense, somehow. It was mindless enough to relax him but stimulating enough to entertain him. The more people he followed, the better recommendations he got, the better shit appeared in his feed.
He started figuring it out. What to reblog and how, the basic etiquette of the website, the unspoken rules and regulations. He was really starting to feel like he had it down. And for the most part, he did. But he was still new. There were still things people did that he didn’t fully grasp.
For example, why would anyone send a message that wasn’t anonymous? Even something complimentary. Why would anyone choose to reveal themselves like that?
Mickey spent a while thinking about it, but then he got bored and realized it was close to dinner time. He made himself and Mandy a grilled cheese with Sour Cream and Onion Lays and scampered off to his room alone to eat.
He chewed on a mouthful of chips and sat in his bed, knees against his chest, scrolling.
Anonymous: what happened between you and Taylor?
eternitysgate: none of your business
Most of Ian’s replies were short and witty, but this was the least friendly reply Mickey had seen thus far. In fact, the message and its subsequent answer had 28 notes already, and it had only been posted an hour ago.
poisonappl3: 👀
staysmashed: ooooooooooooo
oliviasmiddlepart: the girls are fightingggg
Mickey wondered who Taylor was.
He also wondered why Ian would answer a question like that if he wasn’t actually going to give the person an answer. It was weird, but he didn’t dwell on it for too long.
He swiped out of the app and stuck his phone in his back pocket.
**
The anonymity of Tumblr appealed to Mickey. Many people were ready and willing to give up personal information like they would on Instagram and Twitter, but it wasn’t necessarily expected. Plenty of people were secretive like he was, about their identities and locations and personal information.
He planned on keeping that way.
He had yet to add anything to his bio, change his profile picture, or do anything but scroll, learn, absorb, and reblog.
Anonymous asked: why did you block me? we’ve never even spoken before
eternitysgate answered: if i blocked you it’s probably because i thought you were a bot. i block blank accounts and p0rn bots. does your account have a profile pic? i usually block accounts with the starter ones. either way, i’m very sorry. come off anon and i’ll 100% unblock you
Mickey looked at his profile. He was one of those accounts with the generic, standard icon. He still had the standard layout. No modifications. No bio. No multicolored header or customized theme. Nothing.
He wondered if people thought he was a bot. Even if he wasn’t entirely sure what a bot was.
cool profile pictures
He felt silly typing it. He scrolled past some art, some edits, until he found a picture of a guy in a gray hoodie, crossing his arms, with a bag over his head. The bag had two black X’s where the eyes would be and a giant frown.
Perfect.
**
“You fuckin’ sleepin’ in there?” a gravelly voice shouted through the door. Mickey quickly slammed his laptop shut and shoved it beneath the blankets.
“Nah I’m up,” he said, reaching for his phone and leaning back against the headboard, pretending to scroll.
Colin poked his head in the room.
“‘Ey,” he said, giving his brother a nod. “Ig and I are gonna go get dad.”
Fuck.
“‘Kay,” was all he said before Colin was sliding out of the door, clicking it shut behind him.
Mickey blew out a long, disappointed breath.
How had it been three months already?
Every time Terry went away, Mickey vowed that this would be the time. The time he got out from under his father’s abusive thumb. The time he left, for good, off to somewhere nameless and untraceable.
Or at least somewhere out of state, where his father couldn’t legally follow.
He’d follow him if he wanted to, sure. But the cops would catch up to him eventually. Terry couldn’t go two days without pissing in public or cracking some poor fucker’s skull in the middle of a crowded bar.
But it never happened. Mickey never got out.
He sat on his bed, unblinking, trying desperately to will the tears back into his eyes.
**
“Who’s hanging their laundry on my fuckin’ pull up bar?” Terry screamed, and Mickey flinched from where he sat in the living room.
“Prob’ly Iggy,” he shouted back, throwing his brother under the bus. Dumbass. He told him to stop that, not to get in the habit of it ‘cause Terry would be back.
He always came back.
Terry huffed around the house for a minute more before grabbing his coat and disappearing.
Mickey breathed a sigh of relief.
Mandy came out of her room as soon as she was certain their dad was gone.
“Hey,” she said. “Whaddya want for lunch?”
**
They ate their sandwiches in silence and watched TV.
Sometimes Mickey wished he and Mandy were closer. Other times he wished he didn’t have a sister at all. Most of the time, they were civil – as civil as one could be when they both had anger issues and filthy mouths.
“Mmm,” Mandy hummed through a mouthful of peanut butter. She turned to look at her brother.
“What?”
She swallowed.
“I’m gonna go to Evanston for a few days.”
Mickey raised an eyebrow.
“The fuck’s in Evanston?”
“Tyler’s sister goes there. She’s in a sorority. Apparently there’s a bunch of parties this weekend and he wants me to go with him.”
“So he can get you drunk and take advantage of you?”
“Fuck off. It’s not like that and you know it.”
They sat in uncomfortable silence for a minute before Mandy spoke again.
“So you can cover for me?”
Mickey sighed.
“Yeah, fine. I got you.”
**
At least Mandy had friends, even if they were friends she’d acquired through her fuck buddy, Tyler. Tyler was some uppity little asshole with a recently-divorced dad cut and overly white teeth. He’d only met him once, but even those five minutes were enough to show him that the dude had the personality of Wonderbread.
At least Mandy had someone, even if that someone was bland as all hell.
What did he have? A ten year old laptop and a phone with a cracked screen? An ounce of weed in his closet? Ziploc baggies full of coke and molly? He watched as Mandy scampered around the house, collecting her things for the weekend.
At least Mandy had something.
Once she was gone, Mickey moved into his room, pulling out his laptop from where he had it hidden at the foot of his bed, between the mattress and the box spring.
His dashboard was busy and there was no shortage of content for him to peruse.
godslittleasshole reblogged mandolesbian: anyone else filled with a never-ending sense of existential dread that’s slowly driving them into madness or is it just me?
deathndestruction reblogged pillowtoptheboy: reblog and tell me how many blogs you’re following right now
Mickey checked his account. He was following 52 people. That particular post had been reblogged by a few accounts he recognized, numbers ranging anywhere from 80 to 350.
He couldn’t imagine following 350 people. How would you even keep up?
deathndestruction reblogged staysmashed: babygirl your aura is unsettling
staysmashed reblogged godslittleasshole: i’ll watch a human being ripped to shreds in some saw dungeon no problem but the second the dog dies i’m turning off the movie, fuck y’all
And then,
Anonymous asked: love your content
eternitysgate answered: i just reblog things 😭 but thank you
It had been a couple days since he’d logged on and of course, it only took 10-ish posts for eternitysgate to pop up in his feed.
He looked at his own follower count. 25.
There was no way this guy had less than 2500.
Anonymous asked: what kind of guys are you into?
eternitysgate answered: idk tbh. hot ones? someone i can throw around a little bit? it’s less about looks and more about an emotional connection
Mickey blanched at that.
The part about throwing someone around though…a lot less nauseating than the second half.
He scrolled for a bit longer, his dashboard cycling through pictures and text posts and songs before he got to a wall of eternitysgate eternitysgate eternitysgate.
Anonymous asked: dude what the fuck why are you so hot
eternitysgate answered: it’s summertime
Anonymous asked: never knew i was into redheads until right now
eternitysgate answered: you learn something new every day
Anonymous asked: where’d you get that shirt?
eternitysgate answered: urban outfitters
Anonymous asked: did Michaelangelo sculpt you?
eternitysgate answered: yes. i’m actually 500 years old
Mickey wrinkled his forehead. Where and when had people seen this dude’s face?
The Michaelangelo comment and Ian’s reply did have him giggling quietly to himself, though.
Sure, some of the guy’s posts were cheesy or stupid or needlessly wistful, but Mickey couldn’t help but like him.
He scrolled a bit more.
Then suddenly,
eternitysgate posted a photo
It was a selfie. A fucking selfie, on a website where you could be safely anonymous forever if you wanted to be. And here this guy was, putting it all out in the open.
When the initial confusion wore off and Mickey actually looked at the picture for what it was, his breath caught in his throat.
In the picture, Ian was sitting in front of a brick wall covered in climbing ivy. He wore a black long-sleeved t-shirt that said “Emotionally Exhausted” across the chest in a small white font. His red hair glowed beneath the golden hour light, and he was smiling like he was the happiest motherfucker in the world.
His wide grin made his eyes squint up a bit, but Mickey could easily tell that they were green. Bright green, shining in the light alongside his hair, giving an ethereal glow to the entire photo.
Mickey felt warm inside.
He liked the picture, then kept scrolling.
Anonymous: what kind of music do you listen to?
eternitysgate answered: i know it’s a lame answer, but pretty much everything. except country music. if i wanted to hear people sing about getting drunk and fucking women i’d have dinner with my brothers
Mickey snorted.
**
Summer turned into fall, and fall slowly turned into winter. The first snow fell right before Halloween, dusting the Southside in an eerie white glow.
Mickey woke up in the middle of the night to pee and grab some water. The pink light from outside flooded the living room, the space impossibly bright for 2am in October.
Once his bladder was empty and his body was hydrated, he realized he wasn’t that tired anymore. He flopped down on the couch, listening to the hum of the fridge and Terry’s distant snoring, and opened the Tumblr app.
Since it was the middle of the night, he wasn’t expecting things to be very active.
He forgot about time zones.
There were people online he remembered following a while back, but it had been a minute since he’d seen them on his dashboard.
He reblogged a few pictures and a couple of memes, then refreshed the homepage.
eternitysgate reblogged staysmashed: i love my friends in my phone
The time stamp said it was reblogged 3 minutes ago.
Hmm. Guess he wasn’t the only one awake in the states.
For reasons unknown to him, Mickey found himself clicking on Ian’s URL and going to his blog, scrolling a bit. He scrolled enough so that Ian’s selfie found its way back to his screen, the bright smile and sparkling eyes snatching his breath yet again.
The selfie had three tags. Mickey was still a bit confused by the concept of tags, mostly because everyone used them so differently. Some people had hyper-specific organizational tags, while others used the space to keysmash and scream in all caps. Ian seemed to be a mix of the two, organizing his shit but leaving plenty of room for personal commentary.
for the nosy anon, me, it’s giving Chucky
Mickey snorted at the last one. It was baffling that with so few words, this dude could make him laugh audibly. It was something he rarely did, laugh out loud, but it happened far more often since he’d made his account.
He clicked on the middle tag – me – and was taken to a page with #me at the top and a series of posts.
The first post was the selfie. The second post was a meme. The third post nearly knocked him on his ass.
It was a shirtless picture of Ian, cropped from his neck to his hips.
Mickey nearly dropped his phone.
Thank fuck he hadn’t been scrolling when Mandy was around, or Colin or Iggy, or god fucking forbid Terry.
Once he’d reoriented himself and sunk deeper into the cushions, he clicked the picture. It felt weird and invasive at first, but then he realized that if this guy didn’t want people looking at his pictures, he wouldn’t have posted them in the first place.
After all, social media was all about flexing. Literally and figuratively.
Ian was definitely flexing, but Mickey wasn’t complaining one bit.
He zoomed in, examining Ian’s body like he would the most intricate piece of art.
That’s what it was. Art. The soft curves and hard edges and pale skin and freckles – so many freckles – littering his skin like fucking stars. The warm feeling was back, so intense it sent a prickly sensation to the back of his neck.
He held his thumb down on the screen and waited for the box to pop up.
Save to camera roll.
The second he did it, he felt sick.
He opened his photos and deleted the picture. No fucking way he was risking anyone finding some random guy’s shirtless pic in his phone. No fucking way.
He wasn’t being paranoid. He was being realistic.
Truth be told, he could go back and find the picture whenever he wanted, now that he knew where it was. Same with the selfie.
He blew out a breath and went back to his dashboard.
**
Anonymous asked: favorite place you’ve traveled?
eternitysgate answered: dude i haven’t traveled anywhere. here, i guess? i just bounce between new york and chicago. i’d love to go to Amsterdam tho
Anonymous asked: why Amsterdam?
eternitysgate answered: van gogh museum
Anonymous asked: you and your van gogh
eternitysgate answered: i know right 🙄
Anonymous asked: i’ll take you to Amsterdam
eternitysgate answered: ok bet
It had been a week since the selfie. Mickey found himself far less irritated by the wall of answers on his dashboard, realizing that it was a free and easy peek into Ian’s mind.
Nobody else seemed to get this many questions.
Or maybe he just wasn’t following enough people.
Over the next few weeks, he made it a point to follow more accounts. At the very least, he wanted to check out some of the people his mutuals reblogged their content from.
He’d recently learned the term mutual, along with archive and filtered tags, but still felt a little silly using tumblr-specific terms. Even in his own private thoughts.
It turned out to be a pretty good way of finding people with similar blogs. A few clicks and he’d found 20 new accounts with like minded content. His blog had started to take shape, a minimally organized mess of music, angsty photography, and text posts that made him laugh out loud.
He was doing that more often now. Laughing.
Ian wasn’t a mutual, but Mickey enjoyed his account. Mutualship (another term he’d learned) wasn’t all that important to him. He was just trying to pass the time, to distract himself from reality. And it was working.
Ian’s account did that.
One of Mickey’s mutuals, Cassie, was mutuals with Ian. They talked sometimes in the tags, occasionally in a public ask, enough that Mickey knew they had one of those established “tumblr friendships” – something he didn’t have and didn’t want.
staysmashed asked: so we’re going to Amsterdam then?
eternitysgate answered: you payin’ bitch?
Mickey smiled.
**
By the time Christmas rolled around, Mickey was following 135 people. His dashboard flowed well, had a variety of content, and never seemed to slow down. Whether he logged on at 2am or noon, there was always something to see.
A lot of ask games were going around, something else Mickey had learned about. He balked at the thought of it for himself, not willing to give up shit to total strangers, but enjoyed reading other people’s answers.
Anonymous asked: 14
staysmashed answered: 14. do you play any instruments? yep! guitar and drums. more guitar than drums. by a large margin. what i’m saying here is that i’m learning the drums
Anonymous asked: 38
eternitysgate answered: 38. do you have a crush on anybody? not currently, no
**
Another week passed and it was New Year’s Eve. Mickey sat on his bed, mindlessly scrolling, exhausted from a day of running around with his brothers. Everyone waited until the last minute to get their weed and pills, as usual, but they’d brought in nearly a grand, so he had minimal complaints.
He’d finally managed to relax, dipping into his personal stash for some of the higher-end shit he’d saved for himself. His mind was hazy, body pliant, and all he wanted to do was fall asleep.
But it was still too early. He knew his high would wear off eventually and his mind would return to its natural state. Anxious. On edge. A feeling he hoped would be foreign one day rather than painfully familiar.
eternitysgate reblogged staysmashed’s post: it’s almost the new year, if anyone has a crush on me now’s the time to say something. nobody? okay
Mickey rarely found himself rolling his eyes at Ian’s posts anymore. Even the cheesier ones had started to grow on him. But this one made him scrunch up his nose a bit. It seemed a bit…juvenile.
He kept scrolling, thinking about the post.
Crushes were objectively stupid. He rarely had crushes when he was a teenager, and he definitely didn’t get crushes anymore. After all, he was a grown adult.
It wouldn’t come as a surprise if someone actually messaged Ian and confessed their undying love. He was funny and friendly and seemed to be pretty humble, all things considered.
Mickey knew that when it came to the internet, you only saw what people wanted you to see, but it still felt like Ian was pretty authentic. Everyone had secrets. Mickey was no exception. It reasoned to believe that Ian wasn’t either.
He couldn’t get the post out of his head. He forced himself out of bed and walked to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich. He watched an episode of Breaking Bad. Once his muscles regained some of their strength he did a few reps on Terry’s pull-up bar. As his eyes remained fixed on the wall, his brain remained fixed on the post. And Ian. And the concept of crushes.
When he thought of Ian, he felt warm. The prickling sensation at the back of his neck was pleasant, peaceful. He’d laughed more in the past six months than he had in a long time, largely thanks to Ian’s posts. It felt like he knew the guy pretty well, his likes and dislikes, his sense of humor, his hobbies and interests. Maybe people only show you what they want you to see, but Mickey liked what he saw.
Really liked it.
He dropped his weight on the bar and placed his feet on the ground.
Fuck. Did he have a crush on this guy?
**
Mickey sat up against his headboard with his laptop resting on his thighs. His browser was open to eternitysgate.tumblr.com/ask, the blank white box staring directly into his soul.
He tapped the keyboard nervously.
He’d logged out before he pulled the page up. He wanted to be 100% sure he didn’t accidentally forget to press anonymous. If he did, he’d have to delete his entire account and disappear from the website all together.
Tap-tap-tap. Delete-delete-delete. Tap-tap-tap.
Everything felt wrong. Childish, too. What the fuck was he doing? He was a grown man, so why was he acting like a teenage girl?
It was anonymous. He knew that. Besides, there was a decent chance that a dozen identical messages sat in his inbox, waiting to be met with sweet, silly, sarcastic quips. He’d probably never answer Mickey’s.
There was, quite literally, nothing to lose.
i have a crush on you
Plain and simple, straight to the point. Untraceable.
Perfect.
He pressed the button.
Done.
**
Mickey woke up the next morning and rolled out of bed to haul himself to the bathroom. As he peed, yawned, and stretched, he unlocked his phone. After checking for texts from people he sold to and Mandy – who was somewhere in Ohio with Tyler – he opened tumblr.
He was still scrolling as he pulled his sweats back up around his waist and went into the kitchen to get some water.
eternitysgate reblogged a post from oliviasmiddlepart: “There may be a great fire in our hearts, yet no one ever comes to warm himself at it, and the passers-by see only a wisp of smoke.” – Vincent Van Gogh
He wondered about the ask.
He clicked on Ian’s username and pulled up his blog.
Van Gogh quote. Picture. Picture. Meme. Picture. Oscar Wilde quote.
And then.
Anonymous asked: i have a crush on you
eternitysgate answered: come off anon so i can kiss you on the mouth
Mickey choked on his water.
The sensation that flooded his body was unlike anything he’d felt before. It was weirdly validating to know that he was the one who sent the message, even if he was the only person that would ever know that. The response made him choke but it also made him giddy. That warm feeling, the feeling he’d start to crave, overtook him.
He wanted to feel it again. Desperately.
He clicked on Ian’s account and found the button that said leave a message at the beep.
He pressed anonymous right away. It didn’t feel quite as secure as logging out, but he didn’t want to grab his laptop. He had to do this now or he’d never get his nerve back.
He took a deep breath, cracked his knuckles, and typed.
Anonymous asked: “come off anon so i can kiss you on the mouth” is that a guarantee, tough guy?
The blood pounded in his ears. He bit at his lip and brushed the tip of his nose with his knuckles. He thought it over. He stalled. His fingers hovered over the trackpad while the cursor hovered over the button labeled “ask.”
He clicked it. The box refreshed.
Thank you! Your question has been received.
**