“You’re one to talk. I just read it. I didn’t write fanfic about it.” My jaw drops, embarrassment shooting through me. Fuck, is that still on the bookshelf? I wrote it and illustrated it when I was maybe thirteen or fourteen, so enamored with the characters from my favorite noir dystopian graphic novel series that I wanted to add to their story. I tried to throw the fanfic out several years ago, but my dad—ever the proud father—refused to let me, calling it a work of art.
