Maxwell doesn't believe in love.
Nothing in this world lasts forever.
Those who think love exists are naive and desperate.
Naive to put another before themselves.
Desperate for affection and attention.
It is particularly cold on this December night.
Manhattan is always bright out.
Too many busy people.
Too many cars.
Too much light.
Max closes his eyes and wishes for darkness and quiet.
He takes a drag of his cigarette.
Not yet eighteen, but he likes to act like an adult.
He likes to think deep thoughts.
So does Layla.
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A/N: Don't forget to leave a comment, telling me what your thoughts are! It would mean a lot! Please vote if you enjoyed this chapter and thank you so much for reading! I love you all xx
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Unrequited
Short Story"If there was such a thing as love, he thought. She was love." __________ A short, fucked up, unrequited love story between Maxwell and Layla.
