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can I drive us tonight? please? my car stopped smelling like u and it sucks so much :(
“Can you say it? Please?” Can I say it? Yes. I so very easily can. “He touched you. Nobody touches you.”
“We’d be so good together. I just know we would.”
“Everything is stacked against us,” I say. “We’d be a tragedy, Felix. This wouldn’t work.” His smile is confusing. “You don’t agree?” I ask, and how fucked up is it that I actually hope he doesn’t. “No. I agree.” He steps closer and presses one (last) kiss to my mouth. “I just know that wouldn’t stop me.”
And if holding your hand like you’re my boyfriend wasn’t a hint; I’ll spell it out for you—I want you to be my boyfriend.”
“If I had to knock your smartass out, I would’ve done it. I would’ve kept you out, Jake. Tackled you. Fucking dragged you. Whatever I needed to do. Even if it meant swallowing every fucking pill in that house—I’d do it so you couldn’t.”
“You make me feel better than any drug I’ve ever taken.”
Jake smirks and slides his hand around my neck to tug me flush against him, and we kiss like we’re in love. Because guess what? We are. :)
we’re so excited to fuck in a public place. (Milestone!)
“Lucky. Am I right? I should be the one getting stuffed.”
I love you. I’ll love you forever
I want Jake to wake up. I want it more than anything. But if he doesn’t, I’ll be okay. I’ll live, and I’ll be okay (eventually). For both of us.
“I promised you we’d be okay. I didn’t take it.”
“Because I’ve waited my whole life for you. And for this. Us.” I squeeze his hands. “You’re my fucking family, Jake, and we’ll fight this. Together.”
“You’re my fucking soulmate, Felix, and I don’t even believe in that shit.”
“We’re never saying goodbye. This is just… this is I’ll see you soon. Because you will. You’ll see me on the first visit day and every one after that. And then every chance I get to see you, I will. I’ll drive to you, and hey, I can do that since my boyfriend is letting me borrow his car until he comes back. I’ll visit whenever you want me to, Jake.”
“You’re my favorite person in the world. Nothing’s going to change that, okay?” “O-Okay,” I choke out. “Where are you going to be in four years, Jake?” “Sober. With you.”
Our tragedy was really great, wasn’t it?
“Ready to go home, baby?” I ask.
Today, I am eight hundred and twenty-seven days sober. My name is Jake Tully and I’m an addict. And I’ll always be an addict. I’ll never beat this. But I’ll keep going to meetings, and I’ll talk to my sponsor (who I’m going to ask to marry me), and I’ll fight this until I win. We are going to win.