βYouβre not my type.β
βI can be your type. Tell me, what do you want me to become? Whatβs your type?β
βUmmβ¦ fictional.β
He didnβt know what to reply.
He just stood there silent, staring before deciding to run in the opposite direction without another word.
Exactly 4 months and 3 and a half days later, he came back.
He walked over, held her hand, and gently pulled her along to the library.
No words. Just silence and a strange sense of purpose.
He led her to a dimly lit aisle and pointed at a book on the shelf.
She frowned, confused. He disappeared for months and returned like this?
Without saying a single thing?
She looked at him, then at the book.
βAlmost Real.β
Author: Alan Ron.
Wait. Him?
Her eyes widened. She glanced between him and the book again.
He gave her a small nod.
βGo on. Open it.β
She sat down on the library floor and began to read.
Two hours passed.
It was him.
His story. His words. His heart β unfiltered, unpolished.
He wasnβt a hero.
Just a boy tracing the lines fate drew for him.
And I get it now.
Iβm falling for the character.
Iβm falling for this fictional man.
And reallyβ¦
who wouldnβt want their favourite character to be real?
