I love how sweet he is when the lights are out, and I love how angry my existence makes him when they’re on. I love how he seems to expect me to run around helping him despite the fact he’s a nightmare, but most of all, I love how much he hates it that with every day that passes, he’s having a harder and harder time hating me with his whole chest. I mean, don’t get me wrong, when the sun’s up, he’d still push me from a moving vehicle the first chance he got, but I think there’s a chance he’d regret it. Not deeply or anything like that. But probably a little. And I think that’s called progress.
