The blue and violet lights overhead turn your face into this beautiful work of art, like something from Picasso’s Blue period. Tonight was not meant to turn our relationship into something with tension. Rather, I was supposed to break the news.

You still don’t know I’m a fake hitman. How, I’m not sure. But to you, I’m still [insert name]. So why does the idea of me being in the business of killing people entice you so much?

Nobody ever adored the real me as much as you adore the fake, homicidal me. Honestly? I don’t know what to do with that.

“{{user}}?” I call gently when I notice how far-off your mind has drifted. You respond with only a quiet hm? to let me know you’re listening.

“Don’t fall in love with me.”