“I think I’ll always want to die. Some part of me, the weaker part,” they mumbled. They braced on their palms and leaned over him, bumping their nose against his smooth cheek. “There’s nothing you can do to fix me. You get that, right?” He craned toward them, asking to be kissed. “And I bet you think that makes you special.” They swooped away before he could pull them closer and pushed to their feet, flicking the cigarette butt at his black-clad chest. “Grab a fuckin’ box, asshole.” Eli gave a good, strong laugh, and did as they asked.
