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" I’m so happy for my friends. I love them, even when they piss me off. I care about them. I want their joy. But it still hurts a little when it feels like, everywhere I look, everyone seems to have someone.
Everyone but me.
It’s crazy how much I wish I didn’t care. I wish, so much, all the time, that I didn’t give a shit about this sort of thing—that I could be like Warner, a frozen, unforgiving island; or even like Adam, who’s found his happiness in family, in his relationship with his brother—but I’m like neither. Instead, I’m a big, raw, bleeding heart, and I spend my days pretending not to notice that I want more. That I need more.
Maybe it sounds weird to say, but I know I could love the shit out of someone. I feel it, in my heart. This capacity to love. To be romantic and passionate. Like it’s a superpower I have. A gift, even.
And I’ve got no one to share it with.
Everyone thinks I’m a joke."
Afficher en entierMaybe it sounds weird to say, but I know I could love the shit out of someone. I feel it, in my heart. This capacity to love. To be romantic and passionate. Like it’s a superpower I have. A gift, even.
And I’ve got no one to share it with.
Afficher en entier"I don't think you do, actually. In fact, I hope you don't. I wouldn't want you to know how I fee right now. I wouldn't wish that for you."
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I managed to snag a muffin on my way down, and I wipe quickly at my face, hoping I haven’t left evidence around my mouth. I don’t know how Warner feels about muffins, but I’m guessing he’s not a fan.
“Hey,” I say, and I sound out of breath. “What’d I miss?”
“This is my fault,” he says, waving a hand around the room. He doesn’t even look at me.
“I mean, I already know it’s your fault,” I say quickly, “but, like, just to be clear—what are we talking about?”
“This,” he says. Finally, he looks at me. “This situation.”
I wait.
“It’s my fault,” he says, pausing dramatically, “for thinking I could depend on you.”
I make an effort not to roll my eyes. “All right, all right, calm down. I’m here now.”
“You’re thirty minutes late.”
"
Afficher en entier“Hey,” I say.
“Hey.” She nods. Crosses her arms. “Good morning.”
“You need something?”
“Me? No.”
I f
ight back a smile. It’s strange to see her flustered.
“Then what are you doing here?”
She’s squinting at something behind me. “Do you—um,
do you always walk around without a shirt on?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Up here? Yeah. Pretty much all the
time.”
She nods again. “I’ll remember that.” When I say
nothing, she finally meets my eyes. “I was looking for
Castle,” she says quietly
Afficher en entierMaybe it sounds weird to say, but I know I could love the shit out of someone. I feel it, in my heart. This capacity to love. To be romantic and passionate. Like it’s a superpower I have. A gift, even.
And I’ve got no one to share it with.
Everyone thinks I’m a joke.
Afficher en entierWarner is definitely pissed.
I’m super late, and Warner is waiting for me, perched carefully on a stiff chair in a conference room downstairs, staring at a wall.
I managed to snag a muffin on my way down, and I wipe quickly at my face, hoping I haven’t left evidence around my mouth. I don’t know how Warner feels about muffins, but I’m guessing he’s not a fan.
“Hey,” I say, and I sound out of breath. “What’d I miss?”
“This is my fault,” he says, waving a hand around the room. He doesn’t even look at me.
“I mean, I already know it’s your fault,” I say quickly, “but, like, just to be clear—what are we talking about?”
“This,” he says. Finally, he looks at me. “This situation.”
I wait.
“It’s my fault,” he says, pausing dramatically, “for thinking I could depend on you.”
I make an effort not to roll my eyes. “All right, all right, calm down. I’m here now.”
“You’re thirty minutes late.”
“Bro.”
Afficher en entierWarner peers past me, into my room, and for a moment, says nothing. Then, quietly: “Kishimoto, if I considered other people’s mediocre standards a sufficient metric by which to measure my own accomplishments, I’d never have amounted to anything.” He looks up, meets my eyes. “You should demand more of yourself. You’re entirely capable.”
“Are you—?” I blink, stunned. “I’m sorry, was that your idea of a compliment?”
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