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I’ve wondered time and time again if a heart truly lived beneath his ribs at all. Now I know it’s there, quietly beating, hidden away behind a fortress of impenetrable walls built not to shut the world out but to guard the most vulnerable part of him.
Anticipation coils tight inside of me, pent-up need, desperation for more of what I felt the last time we were together. Like an addiction that only he can feed.
“Why did you come here, Saint?” “I didn’t know where else to go.” It’s a whisper, his voice rough and uneven as he pauses, holding my gaze. “You’re the only thing in my life that feels right anymore.”
If I were going to break, I wanted it to be with her, wanted her to pick up the jagged pieces.
I have no idea why the fuck she chose me, but I think I might be the luckiest motherfucker on this planet that she did.
He’s lost the fucking plot if he thinks that I’m going to stand here and let him disrespect Lennon. He can insult me all day. But her? Not happening.
I’m so fucking gone for her. Fully, completely, and don’t give a shit about who knows it.
