The Beginning

Dawn frowned and looked over the document one last time. She didn’t need to. She’d read it several times already. Not to mention she wrote it. It was, well, not perfect, but as close as she could get it. She couldn’t improve upon it anymore than she had. Not without any feedback, at least. So why couldn’t she just post it? Why was it so hard? Because she’d never done it before.

By most standards, Dawn was too young to know what she wanted to do with her life. At the tender age of fifteen, she should be thinking about what she wanted to do for fun that weekend, not what she wanted to do for a living the rest of her life. And yet she’d already made up her mind about that. She wanted to be an author.

Dawn was often writing. Whether it be a simple journal of the day’s events or an epic love story between a human and a demon, she would write it all. Unfortunately, Dawn had hit a wall. She had come across a problem that she couldn’t just write her way out of. Not that she hadn’t tried. She couldn’t bring herself to let anyone else read what she’d written.

Dawn was being silly. She knew she was. In several ways. As a matter of fact she had made a list of the ways in which she was being silly.

1) I’ve taken The Demonic Bond as far as I can on my own. I NEED feedback if I want to continue it

2) I’m only 15. It’s not like anyone expects it to be a masterpiece. Or perfect. Or even all that good

3) Even if I do upload it, and it’s awful, it’s not like anyone will know I wrote it

4) Unless I get feedback, the only thing I can do is start writing something else, and I already decided that I’m not doing that

5) Instead of anonymously posting it under a pseudonym so that other anonymous people can give valuable feedback at no cost and only gain to me I’m just sitting here and procrastinating by writing this list to waste time and give myself something to do that is not uploading The Demonic Bond for feedback

Dawn sighed, reading over the list again. She could have gone on a lot longer, several pages if she wanted, but she’d forced herself to stop. And her pen ran out of ink. And her mother told her to go to bed (again). Really, it was only thanks to everything happening in quick succession that she stopped.

Dawn groaned, leaning back and resting her head against the wall. “Just post it,” she whispered to herself. “Let people read it. The worst that can happen is they don’t like it. They might say it’s awful. That I shouldn’t have written it. That all my dreams are a waste. That all time spent working towards them is wasted. That I should just give up.” Dawn cut herself off and shook her head.

Before she could talk herself out of it, again, Dawn leaned over and practically slammed her finger down on the mouse. There was a harsh clicking. A whooshing sound effect. It was done. The Demonic Bond was online. Out there for anyone to see. To read. To criticize.

Dawn groaned again and slid her laptop onto her desk. She lay back down on her bed and closed her eyes. Whatever the reaction ended up being, she would deal with it in the morning. Or maybe a bit later, considering the first light of the sun was visible through her window.

Dawn closed her eyes and tried to level her breathing. Whatever people thought of her writing, she wouldn’t let it get to her. The opinions of others meant nothing to her. Absolutely nothing at all.

As Dawn drifted to sleep, she found that she almost managed to believe it.

~θ~

The reactions were mixed. That was fair. After all, Dawn’s feelings were mixed. Over the next few days, there came a small stream of comments on the story. A trickle, really. She both eagerly awaited each one, and dreaded it at the same time. Some of those comments boiled down to ‘good job’ or ‘I enjoy this’ which made Dawn happy. Unbelievably so. However, for every comment that was positive, there was one that, in Dawn’s mind, was criticizing her. Something like pointing out issues with grammar or continuity or even the font she chose. On their own each of those comments made Dawn frown. But when all put together? She felt like she was drowning in a sea of negativity.

Dawn tried her best to learn from the criticism. If someone pointed out how often she used commas when she didn’t need to, she’d double check every one to see if it was really necessary. But even with that strategy, Dawn was still disheartened by the negative reaction to The Demonic Bond. The only criticism that Dawn ignored outright was those few people who were upset with her for writing a non-heterosexual romance. Dawn would stand by that choice until the day she died.

All in all, Dawn was stuck. She’d gotten plenty of constructive criticism, and knew exactly how to use that to improve her writing. However, she’d also gotten plenty of non-constructive criticism, and that just demotivated her. She knew what to do to improve her writing, but she couldn’t muster up the motivation. It was a frustrating thing that left her in a state of inaction for several days. Until one day. A day that, many years down the road, Dawn would rank as one of the best of her life.

As a rule, Dawn didn’t use a lot of social media. She never saw the point. However, just because she preferred not to use it doesn’t mean she didn’t have it. Dawn had an account for something called Tsunashi. On a whim, she’d included a link to it when posting The Demonic Bond. She then forgot all about it in the struggle to actually click post. She certainly never expected anyone to find it and reach out to her. And yet someone had.

Picture_Painter: Hi! I read The Demonic Bond and thought it was amazing. I like to draw and drew some fanart of Reign and August. I just wanted to share it with you. I hope you like it

Dawn blinked. She had never even considered that this might happen. She could barely bring herself to believe that people would think her writing was readable, let alone amazing. She stared at that word as if expecting it to change, but it didn’t. It really said amazing. Someone thought her writing was amazing. Amazing enough to draw. Dawn gulped in trepidation and hovered her finger over the link. She took a deep breath and tapped it.

Dawn stared at her screen for a very long time. She knew at the first glance what moment the drawing was depicting. It was of Reign and August while on the run. While evading the forces of Heaven, who wanted to stop Reign from corrupting a mortal, as well as the forces of Hell, who wanted to punish Reign for consorting with a mortal, Reign and August finally found a moment of peace. They were sitting on the porch of the lakeside cabin they’d been hiding out in. August had his eyes closed and was leaning against Reign’s shoulder. Reign had their arm wrapped around August, holding his (possibly) sleeping form close.

Looking closer, Dawn could see smaller details that she was surprised had been included. Little details that she’d nearly forgotten about. The mole on Reign’s cheek, which had only been mentioned in passing at the very beginning. The way August kept Reign on his left side because he’d always insisted that Reign was his Right Hand Demon. The slight distortion behind Reign that was a remnant of the wings they’d lost when they fell. The only sign they’d ever had them.

In Dawn’s opinion, the drawing was what was amazing. The attention to detail was astounding. The tender look on Reign’s face and August’s soft smile perfectly captured what she’d been going for. A stolen moment of bliss while being hunted.

It was the best thing Dawn had ever seen.

Word’s Myth: I don’t think ‘thank you’ is enough. Your art is amazing. To be honest, I never expected anyone to even read what I wrote, in all honesty. The fact that you not only read it but also drew out a scene with such care is… well, I can’t think of the words to describe how it feels. But it is a very good feeling

Dawn pressed send then immediately cringed. She included the phrases ‘to be honest’ and ‘ in all honesty’ in the same sentence. Why did she do that? And that final section. Why didn’t she slow down and think it over? She could’ve come up with an actual way to phrase it as opposed to saying she couldn’t think of the words if she’d just thought about it instead of writing the words that first occurred to her. Dawn conveniently ignored the fact that she still couldn’t describe the feeling. She groaned and lay back on her bed. If that wasn’t a way to alienate someone then she didn’t know what was. Dawn sighed, already sinking into a pit of despair when her phone chimed in her hand. Dawn jerked up to a sitting position and fumbled with her phone, desperate to read the response.

Picture_Painter: I don’t think I deserve that much praise. I’m not a very good artist.

Dawn frowned. How could they say that? In just the last few minutes, Picture_Painter had become her favorite artist. Of course, she’d only seen one actual piece of artwork. She’d looked at Picture_Painter’s profile to see more, but it was blank. A quick scan showed that the profile itself had only been created a few hours ago. That meant that it had been made with the express purpose of showing Dawn the drawing of her characters. That caused another very good feeling that she couldn’t describe.

Word’s-Myth: That’s complete and utter nonsense. You’re an amazing artist, and anyone with eyes could see that

Picture_Painter: Not anyone. Most people who’ve seen my art have said it’s awful.

Word’s-Myth: Well, I’m not most people

Picture_Painter didn’t respond. After five minutes of silence, Dawn started to worry that she might have gone too far. After another ten minutes, she read over the short conversation to see what she did wrong, but she couldn’t figure it out. By the time an hour had passed she had resigned herself to having messed things up. And then her phone chimed. Dawn dropped her book and dove across the room.

Picture_Painter: I have some other art. Maybe sometime I could show it to you?

Word’s-Myth: I’d like that

Again, Picture_Painter didn’t respond. Dawn didn’t worry this time. She set her phone down, waiting for when they offered some of their other artwork for Dawn to see. They weren’t yet ready, and Dawn could respect that. She’d wait until they were. Until then, she had a project of her own that she’d been putting off. Revising The Demonic Bond.

~θ~

The next day Dawn was in the middle of dinner when her phone chimed. She instinctively reached into her jacket pocket to grab it, but froze when her mother coughed pointedly. Dawn looked up at her mother sheepishly.

“You know the rule,” Mia said, pointedly shifting her eyes to Dawn’s hand, which was still in her pocket.

“Sorry,” Dawn said, pulling her hand back.

Waiting until after dinner was agony for Dawn. Her mother had several rules for dining together. The one Dawn hated the most was not being allowed to get up until everyone had finished eating. That wouldn’t be a problem if her mother didn’t take her time. That usually left Dawn sitting in silence for a good half hour. When Dawn was finally allowed to get up she practically bolted upstairs. She ignored the disappointed sigh she heard echoing behind her. Similarly, she also ignored the pang of guilt that settled in her chest.

Picture_Painter: Are you busy right now?

Dawn winced. She shouldn’t have been busy. She shouldn’t have kept Picture_Painter waiting for as long as she did.

Word’s-Myth: Not anymore. What’s up?

Picture_Painter started typing out a response immediately.

Picture_Painter: Can we talk?

Something stirred inside Dawn at reading those words. Something unpleasant. In her, admittedly limited, experience, that phrase rarely meant something good.

Word’s-Myth: What about?

Picture_Painter: Literally anything.

The unpleasant feeling inside Dawn grew. She knew now what it was. Worry. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about Picture_Painter asking for this out of the blue wasn’t right. Dawn didn’t know how she knew that considering this was only their second conversation, but she was confident in her assessment. She also knew that she couldn’t ask what was wrong. She was being asked to provide a distraction, so she would.

Word’s-Myth: What’s your favorite part of The Demonic Bond?

So maybe Dawn could have picked literally anything else to talk about, but she didn’t know of any other topic that she and Picture_Painter had in common. She was too rusty at socializing to take any risks. She was sticking with the safe options for now.

Picture_Painter: Your depiction of Demons. Showing how they can change.

Word’s-Myth: Why shouldn’t they be able to? Yeah, they made a mistake and were banished from Heaven. But just because they Fell should that mean they can’t rise?

Picture_Painter: I’m sure there’s plenty of theological answers to those questions. Unfortunately, most of them would probably paint you in a bad light.

Word’s-Myth: Just so long as the paint is acrylic

Picture_Painter: I’ve never been a big fan of acrylic.

Word’s-Myth: Truth is I have no idea what it is. I’ve just heard the word thrown around in conjunction with other artsy terms a few times. I was just hoping I used it correctly

Picture_Painter: You did, don’t worry about that.

Word’s-Myth: Any other artsy terms you can tell me about? Just want to make sure I know what I’m talking about in the future

As Picture_Painter started writing a response, a very lengthy response given how long the typing icon had been on screen, Dawn settled herself in her bed with her back to the wall. She could already tell that she and Picture_Painter would be in this for the long haul. She could safely say that she didn’t mind.

~θ~

Picture_Painter: What should I call you?

Dawn instinctively started typing out her name, but hesitated. Thinking logically, she shouldn’t answer that question with her real name. She barely knew Picture_Painter. While Dawn wanted to trust them, she still couldn’t bring herself to answer that question honestly. It would go against the years and years of internet safety rules drilled into her head by her father. Clearly, Dawn’s lack of response was quite telling.

Picture_Painter: You don’t have to tell me your name. I just think I should call you something other than your username.

Word’s-Myth: Really?

Picture_Painter: Really. Honestly, I kinda like the idea of an anonymous friendship.

Word’s-Myth: In that case, how about you keep it simple and just call me Word?

897

Eliza absently hummed a lullaby to herself and stared at the drops of rain sliding down the window. She was being dramatic. She knew that. But that didn’t mean she was going to stop. Eliza wiped the tears from her eyes, instinctively keeping the movement discreet despite the fact that she was alone.

It’s not like Eliza wasn’t used to being alone either. She was always alone in one way or another. No friends, no loving family, nothing of the sort. Still, she usually had at least one family member in the house with her. At least then she could pretend that she wasn’t alone. Soon enough she wouldn’t have that anymore. Again, not something she wasn’t used to, but she could already tell that this one was going to cut deeper than even she could handle.

Eliza pulled herself away from the window. She was about to Spiral, and she did not want that. She hated when that happened. However, after years of having to deal with it, she’d become pretty good at detecting when she was about to Spiral and heading it off. Far better than anyone had any right to be.

Eliza didn’t lunge for her tablet. After all, no Laurent would ever do something so uncivilized as lunge. Eliza rolled her eyes at even the thought. That lesson, among many others, had been drilled into her head from a very young age. Probably started when she was a week old. Like many other things. Again, Eliza forced her mind away from thoughts that would cause her to Spiral.

Eliza lunged for her tablet. She hesitated only briefly when she had unlocked the thing. Whenever she was about to Spiral, the best way to derail her thoughts would be to start drawing. However, the downside to that was that, without any inspiration, she’d end up drawing her thoughts. That would just make the whole thing worse. She already knew she didn’t have any inspiration, so she settled for the next best option. Reading.

Eliza had already read all of the books downloaded to her tablet, and all the physical books she owned didn’t interest her, so there was only one viable option. She turned to the internet. Eliza was quite the bookworm. As any true bookworm would, she knew that sometimes the best authors weren’t those that were published traditionally. Sometimes free literature found online was better than anything that might be found in a store. Naturally, she was quite familiar with the best websites for finding such literature.

She scrolled through a list of titles, passing by most of them without a second glance. A couple of them sounded interesting enough to warrant that second glance, but reading through the synopses corrected that assumption. Until one didn’t. One called The Demonic Bond.

The entire thing, which was easily the length of a novel, had been posted at once. That alone was rare enough. That alone earned a second glance. She tapped the title and pulled up the synopsis. Unlike the others, this one didn’t push her away. It didn’t really pull her in, but it didn’t push her away. It intrigued her. She hadn’t found anything that even intrigued her before, so that was nice.

Eliza shrugged. She could start it. See if it appealed to her. And if it didn’t, no harm done. It was still a distraction, although not one as gripping as she’d prefer. She wouldn’t know until she checked, however.

Eliza propped up her pillow behind her and settled down to read.

~θ~

Eliza sat back, letting her tablet slide off her lap and onto the bed next to her. It was amazing. The word choice was rough at times and the grammar clearly needed a few touch ups, but both issues were mild enough that Eliza could ignore them and focus on the story itself. And what a story it was.

The story of a Demon, a person with all these preconceived notions on how they should and who they should be, shedding those expectations and choosing to be who they want to be. Something about that spoke to Eliza. She knew what it was like to live with the constraints of expectations. She longed to know what it was like to be free of them.

While it didn’t speak to her as much as Reign’s struggle to escape the stereotypes of being a Demon, their relationship with August was also very enjoyable. Seeing them get closer and closer was nice. Going from August only agreeing to help Reign because she literally had no other choice to not hesitating to go to Hell just to save Reign was a very satisfying and, more importantly, believable journey to read.

Eliza looked up and blinked in confusion. She could see the sun rising outside her window. She checked the time on her phone just to be sure, but there was no mistaking it. She’d been up all night. It had been a long time since she’d found a book good enough for that.

Eliza reached up and rested her hand on her heart.

Fortunately, The Demonic Bond had been good enough for more than just staying up all night. She swapped over to start a new drawing. Now she had inspiration.

~θ~

Picture_Painter: Hi! I read The Demonic Bond and thought it was amazing. I like to draw and drew some fanart of Reign and August. I just wanted to share it with you. I hope you like it.

Eliza sent the message and immediately regretted it. She didn’t regret actually sharing the drawing. That was only fair. Word’s-Myth had been the source of her inspiration, so they deserved to see what came of it. No, what Eliza regretted was the rest of the message.

What had she been thinking? Claiming that she liked to draw? She shouldn’t have done that. Sure, she drew regularly, but she didn’t like it. She couldn’t like it. Drawing had no effect on her whatsoever, but thinking of drawing was not good. It would always lead to thoughts of what was proper for her to do. Of what was declared as proper for her to do. Those thoughts would branch out. She couldn’t always be sure what thoughts they would lead to, but they all had one thing in common. They’d cause her to Spiral.

Bottom line: Eliza couldn’t like to draw. And yet she’d said it. To a complete stranger. There was now someone out there whose only perception of her was that she liked to draw. Someone who might bring that up in the future. Someone who might broach a topic that Eliza desperately wanted to avoid.

Eliza rested her hand on her heart and took a deep breath. Her phone buzzed. She clumsily pulled it out of her pocket and opened the messaging app she’d recently downloaded.

Word’s-Myth: I don’t think ‘thank you’ is enough. Your art is amazing. To be honest, I never expected anyone to even read what I wrote, in all honesty. The fact that you not only read it but also drew out a scene with such care is… well, I can’t think of the words to describe how it feels. But it is a very good feeling

Eliza stared at the message. She wasn’t used to so much praise directed at her. Definitely not for something so small. She didn’t deserve it. She shouldn’t have gotten it. And yet…

She had.

But she knew that she didn’t deserve it.

There were many reasons that she didn’t deserve that much praise, but Word’s-Myth didn’t have any of the context for them. Rather than pretend that any of those reasons didn’t exist, Eliza just tried to cram them all into one. The one thing that Word’s-Myth knew about her.

Picture_Painter: I don’t think I deserve that much praise. I’m not a very good artist.

When it was done, Eliza wasn’t sure how she wanted Word’s-Myth to react. Likely, they would agree with her and then move on. That was what should happen. But part of Eliza, a small and selfish part, wanted them to disagree. To say that she was good at something she chose to do.

Word’s-Myth: That’s complete and utter nonsense. You’re an amazing artist, and anyone with eyes could see that

Eliza stared at the last few words of the message. She wished that were true, but she knew for a fact that it wasn’t. She’d had too many experiences affirming that fact for her to not believe it. That part of Eliza hoping to be praised begged her to just take the compliment, but she couldn’t. Not when she knew it wasn’t true.

Picture_Painter: Not anyone. Most people who’ve seen my art have said it’s awful.

All but one, if she was being completely honest. But she wasn’t. Eliza didn’t want Word’s-Myth to know just how many people hated her work. She was terrified it might make them change their mind. She didn’t want to have to go from stretching the truth when she said most people to outright lying when she did.

Word’s-Myth: Well, I’m not most people

Eliza gulped and dropped her phone. She already knew that. She’d only had one incredibly short conversation with Word’s-Myth, and it was already the best conversation she’d had in a very long time. She knew that Word’s-Myth was different. That was what scared her. Just how different Word’s-Myth was.

Eliza couldn’t remember the last time she’d talked to someone who acted like this. Someone who acted like they cared. Not about who they thought Eliza should be, but who she was. She didn’t know how to respond.

It took Eliza far longer to draft a response than she’d have liked. She didn’t want to push too far and scare Word’s-Myth away, but she also didn’t want to treat them like everyone else. They didn’t deserve that. In the end, Eliza took the coward’s way out. She kept her response short and to the point. She made sure it was closing the door on the conversation; she couldn’t handle much more right now. However, she also had to leave the door cracked open for future conversations. She wanted to have those. A lot of those.

Picture_Painter: I have some other art. Maybe sometime I could show it to you?

Word’s-Myth: I’d like that

Eliza breathed a sigh of relief. She put her phone down, feeling uncharacteristically giddy.

~θ~

Eliza sat at her desk, idly staring at her phone hidden behind one of the books that had been approved for someone of her ‘social status.’ She wasn’t actually reading said book. She had no intention of ever doing so. The only reason she’d even opened it was to use as a shield in case someone barged into her room. It had happened before, and was about to happen again.

Without so much as knocking, her mother pushed open the door and marched into her room. Eliza casually slid a scrap of paper between the pages of her book and set it down to hide her phone and give her mother her full attention.

“Mother,” Eliza greeted neutrally.

Florence glanced around the room and frowned. “You’re not packed yet?” she asked disapprovingly.

Eliza frowned. “I’m not leaving for another month,” she said carefully. “I didn’t see the need to pack so far ahead of time.”

Florence sighed and shook her head. “You aren’t leaving for a month,” she said slowly. “But your father and I are leaving in a week. We need to know which of your belongings to take with us.”

Eliza rested her hands in her lap. With her desk hiding them from view, she was free to curl her hands into fists at the reminder that her parents were moving. And leaving her on her own until the time came for her to be shipped off to that school. She’d tried her best to block that knowledge from her mind. With good reason. Eliza was quickly becoming aware of her heart. She forced herself to breathe at a regular pace.

“I’ll be packed by the time you leave,” Eliza promised quietly.

Florence nodded sharply. “See that you are,” she said coldly. She spun around and marched out of Eliza’s room.

Eliza stood up and slowly walked across the room to the door. She grabbed it and silently pushed it closed. She turned around and leaned against it. She rested her hand on her heart as her breathing started to grow more erratic. She knew what this was.

She was Spiraling.

Abandoned.

It was too late for Eliza to head it off. The process had already begun. She could barely focus enough to regulate her breathing, and even then it’d go back to erratic after a few seconds. She’d never be able to focus on words. And trying to draw would only make things worse. She’d just draw what was on her mind, and that was what she was trying to avoid.

Failure.

Eliza stumbled across her room, her right hand still resting on her heart. She leaned against her desk for support and then allowed herself to collapse into the chair. She practically shoved the book away from her and snatched her phone.

Useless.

With shaking fingers, Eliza typed out a message to the only person she knew that might be able to help.

Unworthy.

She needed a distraction, someone to focus on that was in no way connected to her family.

Unloved.

And she only knew one person that fit the bill.

Abandoned.

Picture_Painter: Are you busy right now?

Failure.

Eliza stared at her screen, waiting for a response. Hoping for a response.

Useless.

Her breathing grew more and more erratic as Eliza got too wrapped up in her spiraling thoughts to even think about breathing properly.

Unworthy.

Unloved.

Eliza closed her eyes tightly, trying to block out her thoughts. It didn’t work.

Abandoned.

Failure.

Useless.

Unworthy.

Unloved.

Eliza cradled her phone close to her chest. Any moment now it would go off. Any moment now she wouldn’t be quite so alone. She liked that. She needed that.

Abandoned.

Failure.

Useless.

Unworthy.

Unloved.

Eliza’s phone buzzed in her hand. The haze around her mind cleared just enough for her to move her eyes down. She stared at the screen. A couple tears dropped onto it. Eliza hadn’t even realized she’d been crying.

Word’s-Myth: Not anymore. What’s up?

Abandoned.

Eliza hurried to send a response. She couldn’t wait any longer.

Failure.

Picture_Painter: Can we talk?

Useless.

Eliza barely had to wait for a response.

Word’s-Myth: What about?

Picture_Painter: Literally anything.

Eliza didn’t care what they talked about. She just needed to be distracted. To be able to focus on something that wasn’t her own thoughts.

Unworthy.

Word’s-Myth: What’s your favorite part of The Demonic Bond?

Picture_Painter: Your depiction of Demons. Showing how they can change.

Word’s-Myth: Why shouldn’t they be able to? Yeah, they made a mistake and were banished from Heaven. But just because they Fell should that mean they can’t rise?

Picture_Painter: I’m sure there’s plenty of theological answers to those questions. Unfortunately, most of them would probably paint you in a bad light.

Word’s-Myth: Just so long as the paint is acrylic

Picture_Painter: I’ve never been a big fan of acrylic.

Word’s-Myth: Truth is I have no idea what it is. I’ve just heard the word thrown around in conjunction with other artsy terms a few times. I was just hoping I used it correctly

Picture_Painter: You did, don’t worry about that.

Word’s-Myth: Any other artsy terms you can tell me about? Just want to make sure I know what I’m talking about in the future

Eliza could talk about this. She could talk about it for hours. She may not like art, but she knew quite a bit about it. She took a deep, controlled breath and started to write a response.

~θ~

Eliza was doing better. Not perfect, by any means. But she’d at least managed to go from Spiraling to being on the verge of Spiraling. That was a state she could live with. She always did. Saying that she was incredibly grateful would be an understatement. Eliza hadn’t had someone help her out of a Spiral in a very long time.

She wanted to thank Word’s-Myth, but that would require her to elaborate on what she was thankful for. That was not a conversation she ever wanted to have. Still, she wanted to do something for Word’s-Myth. In the end, Eliza decided that it’d be disrespectful to keep calling them Word’s-Myth. They deserved more than that. And Eliza would do her best to give it to them.

Picture_Painter: What should I call you?

It was only after Eliza sent that message that she realized how creepy it was. That was not something she should ask someone over the internet. Especially after only having ‘known’ them for a couple days. She rushed to send a new message, hoping that it would make things less creepy.

Picture_Painter: You don’t have to tell me your name. I just think I should call you something other than your username.

Word’s-Myth: Really?

Picture_Painter: Really. Honestly, I kinda like the idea of an anonymous friendship.

Eliza didn’t even realize she had used the word friendship until after she reread her message. She cringed, hoping that she wasn’t being too forward. She wanted to be friends with Word’s-Myth, but she shouldn’t have rushed into it. If anything would scare off Word’s-Myth, it was Eliza being too forward. She was sure of it.

Word’s-Myth: In that case, how about you keep it simple and just call me Word?

Eliza’s eyes widened. Word’s-M Word wanted to be her friend? Or maybe they just didn’t comprehend what Eliza really wanted. It was almost definitely that one. Still, Eliza would accept it. It was far better than nothing.

Picture_Painter: Then why don’t you call me Pic?