“We can, we can survive it!” he chokes out. I can’t look at him, because I know what I would see. “That’s just it, Hardin, I don’t want to have to survive. I want to live.” My words strike something in him, and he stops pacing, stops tugging at his hair. “I can’t just let you go. You know that. I always come back to you—you had to know that I would. I would have come back from London eventually and we—”
You just keep saying more and more insane shit
