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But the fire of true hatred, I realize, cannot exist without the oxygen of affection. I would not hurt so much, or hate so much, if I did not care.
This, needless to say, makes him the polar opposite of Kenji, who loves to eat everything, all the time, and who later told me that watching Warner eat a cookie made him want to cry.
“You know, I think I might be the only one of us who doesn’t have daddy issues. I loved the shit out of my dad.”
I have a great fear of drowning in the ocean of my own silence. In the steady thrum that accompanies quiet, my mind is unkind to me. I think too much. I feel, perhaps, far more than I should. It would be only a slight exaggeration to say that my goal in life is to outrun my mind, my memories. So I have to keep moving.
“Who says you can’t be cute and kick ass at the same time?” Kenji winks at me. “I do it every day.”
“The world tried to crush you,” I say, gently now, “and you refused to be shattered.
“But how?” she says, her voice breaking on the word. “How do I get them out of my head?” “Set them on fire.” Her eyes go wide.
“In your mind,” I say, attempting a smile. “Let them fuel the fire that keeps you striving.” I reach out, touch my fingers to her cheek. “Idiots are highly flammable, love. Let them all burn in hell.”
“Those who do not understand you,” I say softly, “will always doubt you.”
Because I’ve never been in love before, so I don’t know if this is love or if I just have, like, food poisoning?”
I love that the girl who blushes so easily in my arms is the same one who would kill a man for hurting me.
This, I think, is the way to die. I could drown in this moment and I’d never regret it. I could catch fire from this kiss and happily turn to ash. I could live here, die here, right here, against his hips, his lips. In the emotion in his eyes as he sinks into me, his heartbeats indistinguishable from mine.
