MANWHORE | H.S | edited.

MANWHORE | H.S | edited.

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WpMetadataReadMatureComplete Fri, Mar 5, 202120h 12m
"They still write poems about you, you know?" He looked at me strangely, "Why?" I shrugged, "You are a tragedy, people love to dwell on those." He smiled to himself, "There is nothing tragic about grasping what you want... even if it's only for a moment." - last night, I dreamed of Icarus laughing Warning ⚠️ : This story contains swearing, indications of assault, mature content and serious Harry feels. Read at your own discretion.
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We're all mad here, it's Wonderland. ~ Harry latches onto my passionate on-beat arms as he keeps me from moving forward. "Are you fuckin' mad?" He grits through his teeth. "I'm in Wonderland, Pretty Boy," I throw my free arm in the air, motioning to the surrounding world. "Of course, I've gone a little mad." He flips me around as the level of infuriation rises throughout his clenched jaw, trying to remain composed. "Don't try and be something you're not, Presley." I rip away from his hold, furrowing my brows from the curt statement, the honest revelation that should've just stayed within his mind. "We'll never be the heroes, and you know that," he says, colder than the Arctic's towering waves. "We'll never win." We'll never find Purple. Purple, the color of the Star-Crossed Lovers.

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