loveletters

Aaron Warner Anderson, chief commander and regent of Sector 45, son of the supreme commander of The Reestablishment. He has a soft spot for fashion.

I keep wasting my wishes on stupid things, I think.

Twice I’ve laid myself bare for you and all it’s gotten me was a bullet wound and a broken heart. Don’t torture me,” he says, meeting my eyes again. “It’s a cruel thing to do, even to someone like me.”

You chose him because he’s kind to you? Because he’s offered you basic charity?”

“He cares about me—and I care about him!” Warner nods, unimpressed. “You should get a dog, love. I hear they share much the same qualities.”

“You want me,” he says softly, his hands moving up my back, “and it’s killing you.”

Maybe he needs time to grieve in silence, in a place where no one expects him to be the funny one.

I am no longer afraid of fear, and I will not let it rule me. Fear will learn to fear me.

No gun, no sword, no army or king will ever be more powerful than a sentence. Swords may cut and kill, but words will stab and stay, burying themselves in our bones to become corpses we carry into the future, all the time digging and failing to rip their skeletons from our flesh.

I need to jump out of a window and catch a ride with a dragon to a world far from here.

Sometimes I wonder if the planets are still up there, still aligned, still managing to get along after all this time. Maybe we could learn a thing or two from them.

“Is it possible to love someone and then stop loving them?

Maybe we both fell in love with the illusion of something more.

And if you do not shower on a regular basis, do not come within ten feet of me.”

“And I think people become who they really are when things get rough.

But just because he’s a good guy doesn’t make him the right guy for me.”

“I wasn’t safe in my own mind.

I woke up every morning hoping to die and then spent the rest of the day wondering if maybe I was already dead because I couldn’t even tell the difference,”

And I am either losing my mind or Warner just blushed.

How strange that we can go from friends to inseparable to hateful then casual all in one lifetime.

“Aaron?” “Yes, love.”

“I love you,”I whisper. “I love you exactly as you are.”

“Lift your hips for me, love,”

It’s the kind of kiss that inspires stars to climb into the sky and light up the world. The kind that takes forever and no time at all.

And just because you’re bound by blood does not make you a family.

I want you to make a list of all of your favorite things, and I want to be on it.

And sometimes I am afraid,” he says, dropping his eyes, “that my love will terrify you.”

“In a world where there is so much to grieve and so little good to take? I grieve nothing. I take everything.”