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There's something about him. Something that seems almost fragile.
He’s the most beautiful guy I’ve ever seen in real life, and I hate it.
Everything started in a bus, didn’t it? Buses ruined my life and then this bus drove me up here where I’m supposed to fix it.
I want to feel better. Maybe in the daytime… Everything is always better when the sun is up.
I give him a fucked-up grin. "It looks like I'm pretty good at blow jobs."
“Never jump,”
“Never fall.”
"I knew if you touched me one more time, I would do this." And then he steps in closer, wraps a hand around the back of my head, and kisses me so hard and deep I nearly slide to the ground.
His mouth didn’t feel like any memory,
Welcome to the world, mofo. It hurts a lot, and dying slowly seems to be our fucking job here.”
“Do you know how much I fucking love it when you look at me that way?”
Nothing matters but him—being in this moment with him. At least until I can’t anymore.
Thinking of another room. Another patient. How the needle always seemed to burn.
I like how he kisses me. Like I’m the only thing he needs in the world.
“Because…I’m scared of doctors.”
"I'd want anything you gave me, Miller."
“You’re my guy now. I’ve got you.”
This perfect boy is all mine.
“You’re such a prize. You know that?”
“Right now, all that’s real is you and me. And we’re here together.”
“My Miller,” he whispers.
“That’s why I hated you, you know,” he whispers, looking down into my eyes. “Too perfect. Tempting. Something that I couldn’t have. And shouldn’t want.”
“I want to say...I’m really sorry for what happened to you. At both of those places. I’m sorry you were alone. I know it’s stupid, but I really wish I could’ve been with you.”
I just want to tell you that I’m happier than I deserve. And that I love him. I hope it will last.
She called and told me if I don’t come back to Sheppard Pratt and get back on psych meds to “control those urges”- she’ll tell the police…this secret I have. It’s a secret nobody can ever know. Not even you.
Love me- okay? Can you please still love me? Even if it’s been a while? I’ll always love you too.
He didn't leave the football pillow that I made him.
It’s a little black infinity symbol, but the weird thing is, it’s not symmetrical. Looks like someone drew it on there with a pen or some shit—but it’s permanent ink.
I have dreams now. When I do, there’s someone holding me. A guy. I can’t ever see his face.
It's like a desert...and these are little drops of water. Condensation rolling off a plant and hitting cracked dirt. But I'll take it.
I'll take it. I'll hold it in my heart like a thorn and let it poison me. Even though the poison pain hurts so much, I'm becoming a drunk just to be able to breathe.
He was mine. He loved me! MILLER! I didn't goddamn dream it. I really wasn’t crazy.
And then…go off somewhere. You know…somewhere to change that. To un-gay me,”
“I would have come,” Josh says.
“I didn’t mean to mess you up, too.”