“You know,” he begins, clearing his throat, “when I figured you’d show up yesterday, I told myself to tell you that you had to go back home, that you couldn’t be here with me. But then, I opened the door and saw you. All those words … they no longer existed. When it comes to you, I’m incapable of common sense. I don’t understand it, but I think … I think I’m tired of fighting. I think about you when I shouldn’t, I have dreams of you that are immoral, I worry about you, I wonder what you’re thinking, and more than anything I want to make everything better for you and I’m so fucking torn up
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