you follow me here, because there’s a tracker in my car, and tell me how I’m yours. But what does that mean, exactly?” It’s apparently my turn for speeches, and I hate how uncomfortable I am with them. How every word makes me more and more unsure of my convictions. “Until you get bored? Until you get what you want?” “Until both of us are dead and reunite in whatever’s waiting for us afterward,” he clarifies,
