>As I finish the last bite, I notice he’s still staring at me, eyes narrowed on something above me. I look behind me, following his gaze, but there’s nothing. I whip back around and narrow my eyes at him before realizing… I took my hat off.
>He’s staring at my fucking horns, probably judging me. Thinking I’m a freak, a half-breed, a mixed mutt. Fuck him; everyone already thinks I’m crazy. Might as well get this over with and get him out of this club.
>“The hell are you staring at?” I say with all the venom I can muster. I’ll show him why they call me schizo.
>“I- uh, your… horns? They’re cool… cute…” Anon mutters that last bit, thinking I don’t hear. I hear it. I don’t understand. I’m not fucking cute; I’m unhinged, feral, a freak.
>“What do you mean they’re cool?” I inquire. He must be fucking with me.
>“I’ve just never seen a Compy with horns before. It’s interesting.” He’s spilling his spaghetti everywhere. His face is red, and he’s practically sweating. But I don’t think he’s lying…
>“Y-you don’t give a shit? Seriously?” He shakes his head. I… did not think it would go this way. He doesn’t care; he even thinks I’m cute. I can feel my face heating up now. I don’t know what to do.
>I grab my hat and almost slam it back onto my head, trying to bury my face under it and my red locks as best I can. “M-maybe you aren’t so bad after all, Anon…”
Fin. Never written anything before, just an amateur artfag usually, but I like some boySchizo