just know my oc is messed up
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Soft crunches of grass beneath my shoes are all I hear. All I should hear, if it wasn’t for a second pair walking the same path as me. It's familiar to me, almost welcoming. It's not as if I am unaware of who it is or of their motives. Quite the contrary, I am well aware of who this is. It’s almost entertaining, this game we play. He must know that I am not completely oblivious; that makes it fun for him too. Maybe I am unwell, though I can’t find myself to care. Perhaps he is unwell too, and I still don’t care. Normal is relative and the box of conformity is too small to fit us. I pause as I listen for him; this is something I’ve found myself doing a lot more. I’m interested, way more than I probably should be. I continue walking, he continues walking; we continue walking. I know what he must be thinking right now. That this is romantic, the two of us walking at the same time. I say same time, but he must be a few feet trailing behind
or Dottore has a stalker but they are both insane freaks so its ok