Well, Half Of Half Our

I Can't Force You. I Can't Make You Want To Survive This." He Pulls Me Against Him And Runs His Hand Over My Hair, Tucking It Behind My Ear. His Fingers Trail Down My Neck And Over My Shoulder, And He Says, "but You Will Do It. It Doesn't Matter If You Believe You Can Or Not. You Will, Because That's Who You Are.

But Now I Know How Large The World Is... Well. I Suppose I Have Grown To Large Out Of My Faction. As A Consequence.

I Feel The Urge, Familiar Now, To Wrench Myself From My Body And Speak Directly Into Her Mind. It Is The Same Urge, I Realize, That Makes Me Want To Kiss Her Every Time I See Her, Because Even A Sliver Of Distance Between Us Is Infuriating. Our Fingers, Loosely Woven A Moment Ago, Now Clutch Together, Her Palm Tacky With Moisture, Mine Rough In Places Where I Have Grabbed Too Many Handles On Too Many Moving Trains. Now She Looks Pale And Small, But Her Eyes Make Me Think Of Wide-open Skies That I Have Never Actually Seen, Only Dreamed Of.

Oh For God's Sake. I'll Just Carry You.

In That Moment I Know Exactly What I Want; I Want To Peel Away All The Layers Of Clothing Between Us, Strip Away Everything That Separates Us, The Past And The Present And The Future.