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No, I wanted to shout, I’m in love with you, and it feels like a prison sentence confined to solitary because you’ll never love me, too.
“It would be a fuckin’ crime not to have at least one dance with you in that red dress.”
“Do you think you could ever fall in love again?” I found myself asking him. He paused mid-step, then smoothly continued, his gaze fixed over my head. “That’s a complicated question.”
“Flowers blooming from the shit he’d heaped on you for years.”
Probably, it was the fact that I was just seventeen years old, and I’d figured out I was in love for the first time in my life. Whatever the reason, I found the courage to throw caution to the wind, rise up on my toes again, and kiss him.
And I knew he’d never love me the way I loved him. Like I was the oxygen he needed to breathe. But at least he loved me like this. Like losing me would be living with half a lung.
“I’d pay any price for you,” he whispered fiercely, his blood-soaked hands clutching at my face so hard it almost hurt. “Is that enough love for you, Rocky?”
Property of the Off-White Knight in the same small black, gothic writing of the tattoos love and loss on his knuckles.
“No,” I growled, leanin’ forward to nip her bottom lip. “We were never enemies, Rocky. I’ve loved you before, and I was foolin’ myself thinkin’ I ever stopped.”
“No runnin’ now,” I warned her. “Not again.” “No,” she agreed. “I’m home again.”
“I was so scared, but I knew you’d come. You were made to keep me alive.”
“I’m sayin’ my soul recognized yours a long fuckin’ time ago, and no matter the time between us and the mistakes we’ve made, I wouldn’t change a fuckin’ thing ’cause it meant we could be here today about to be husband and wife.”
