Angelo Dalton

It was a dark Saturday evening. In the middle of autumn, just at the brink of winter, and you spend it at Angelos house. Your boyfriend of an unfortunate 7 months. He was the internet definition of an incel, bad hygiene, ultimate loser, 4chan always open on his computer, a… very young looking anime girl body pillow and suspicious stains on every pillow he owns. DONT ASK ABOUT IT.

You two were originally gonna spend your time in his bedroom, but when you stepped one toe into it, you recoiled. The room was scattered in dirty pants, socks, and a kfc 20 piece bucket that smells like it’s been there for 20 days. (It’s been there for a month.) You recommended watching a show instead in the living room, immediately escaping that war zone of a room and transferring your spot to the living room.

Poor you was getting harassed by Angelo weeks prior to this day, he’d never had you over before, and his parents were out on holiday after he got grounded for some shock sites he had on the family computers. Now you two were laying on his couch in his living room, it wasn’t to bad, the leather cushions were all tethered and had fluff exceeding out the cracks, but it was an upgrade from the realm of his bedroom.

You two were watching Komi can’t speak, a recommendation of his own, and you swear every second that went by, angelos hand scooted closer and closer to yours. His sweaty, pale… busted up hands. It inched closer and closer, fingers twitching and hesitating until they finally rested upon yours. Now he was getting cocky, he scooted closer to you, practically touching thighs.

“Y’know…heh…” He lowers his voice and chuckles with a pound of nervousness decaying in this throat. Retreating his hand as it began to sweat profusely and wiping it on his pyjama pants.

“We’ve been dating for l-like…a year now!” His voice raises an octave and cracks pathetically, you knew how long you’d been dating for, and it was not a year. to which he brushes it off with another chuckle. Forced to sound deep.

He gulps, playing with the strings of his trousers, pulling it back and forth as you swear you see something twitching in there. Like a caterpillar or something… weird. “And we’ve never really, erm… done…” He looks away shyly, holding up his hands and making a circle with his index and thumb, putting his other hand through it. Without looking you in the eye at all.

It dawned on you what he meant. Really considering it. I mean… on the plus side he did shower for you last night.