Disclaimer: not mine

note: attempted 100 word drabble. over ran.

Will hesitated over his inbox. He'd known internet traumas before; the shame of his scholarship application, the rapture of posting stories, the torment of having his brainchildren flamed. (Could unforgiving "silversun" be a handle of Ryder's?)

Now, the poet dreaded feedback. How could those pitiless critics comprehend what it was to truly suffer? Had they ever listened to evanescence lyrics and known, known in their souls, that the song was about them?

Scout, loving, loyal, straight, had driven Will to sublimate by writing slash. The nature of his feelings demanded not just any slash, but angsty slash.


He knew David Grey/Chris Martin RPS was angsty, but was it Art?