Three

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                                                                                                        I don't care if you're fucking with me anymore

                                                                                                                                                                      seen at 5:51 pm

                                                                                                                                                                           I'm tired of it

                                                                                                                                                                      seen at 5:52 pm

                                                                                                                                                                       We need to talk

                                                                                                                                                                      seen at 5:59 pm

                                                                                                                                                                 I want to break up

                                                                                                                                                    seen at 6:31 am, Sunday

It was close to sundown, and Daniel still had yet to answer you. You knew he was seeing the messages you sent, the proof he had was right there blinking up at you from your phones screen. You gripped the device tightly in your hand, releasing your grip to let it land on the wood of your back porch beside your thigh in defeat.

If he didn't want to answer you, that was fine. It was great in fact. It helped you to avoid any awkward confrontation with him in having to talk about it. You hated confrontation, always had. So when your phone began to ring, alerting you to a Face Time request you felt your heart and stomach clench in anxiety. You looked down to your screen and let out a breath of relief at the sight of who was calling you. You picked up your phone again and accepted the call to be greeted by the soft caramel colored face of your friend Angie smiling at you.

"(Y/N)!" she greeted in her Colombian accent.

You smiled at her, snorting as she set her phone down to start putting on a green face mask. Angie was one of your closer friends, having known her for the almost two years she had been in America for her college education from one of your shared college classes in early American history. The two of you worked in student services at the college together, sorting files and books and gossiping about each of your separate friend groups. She was laid back and easy going, easy to talk to about practically anything.

"Hi Angie," you greeted her back once you could get your snorting under control. "What is it you need this time?"

She gave an exaggerated gasp, placing a hand to her chest and looking into the camera through her mirror. "So I can't just call my dearest friend on a Sunday night to simply say hello? (Y/N) you offend me and my honor as a Colombian girl trying to make her way in the acting world of college!"

Chlorine (Creepypasta x Male Reader)Where stories live. Discover now