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“You were loved and cared for. Nurtured, Waylon. Maybe not by who you should have been, but you should know by now that blood isn’t always what it’s chalked up to be.”
“Nurture might be the thing that makes or breaks us, but just because we break, doesn’t mean we stay broken,”
There’s something terrifyingly lonely about sacrificing what’s gotten you through the hardest moments of your life. Something painfully bleak. Like reaching for a friend who no longer wants anything to do with you.
Truth is, I don’t know how we’ll ever come back from this. Not when denial is no longer a balm to the jagged edges of grief that had been binding us together all this time. Not when there’s no longer any real hope that Izzy could one day return and bring us back together. I guess it’s time we fucking face it: Losing her broke something in us. It was only a matter of time before what was left shattered once and for all.
“You deserve better than that, but it’s up to you to climb your way out of this. We can reach down to help, but it’s up to you to grab our hands and let us pull you up.”
truth. “You’ve seen all my ugly parts, Will,” I say thickly. “Let me see yours. And not just when you’re drunk, and you can no longer bottle shit up.” I swallow, then quietly, so quietly, the words hardly carry any volume, “Not when it’s too fucking late.”
“Still beating, Way?” I whisper, spreading a hand right over the center of his chest. He brings one of his up to my chest, mirroring my position. “I told you,” he says deeply. “So long as I have the will to live…” I swallow hard, fingers digging into his skin, and I murmur against his lips. “There’ll always be a way.” I’ll find it. Always. I’ll always find… Him.
