“I love you, G.” “I love you too, passerotto.” “More than anything?” “More than anything.” “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Rooney.”

“You wanted to be like me, but...Santi, I don't have all the answers. I'm still figuring all this out myself, I'm still scared and small and I'm still learning, just like you are, and I grow from that. You still have a purpose in life, despite your trauma, past all your mistakes. You'll never forget something like that, it's true. But why would you want to? It made you who you are, and I know exactly who that is. Now it's time for you to find out.”

“You don't have a single inkling how thankful I am that you're here, alive and breathing in front of me. I love you more than anything, Santi, I mean that. I've missed you these past months and I know there's a reason you haven't been around. Tell me when you're ready, but just know...you’re my greatest friend. No one ever saw so much in me as you did, and I don't think you've ever known this, but I've always thought the same of you. You're such a spectacular soul...in your own strange, Santi way. And I've seen the most loyal parts of you, the most generous and pure hearted, altruistic parts that are begging to be seen. So let them out, Santi, and accept the love you deserve.”

“And when it got to that point, it was irreversible. When you start toying with the idea of ending your life, even just for a fleeting moment, it stays there until you black out, not even from any substances, but just your thoughts, they occur so fast and so much that you don’t even remember how you got to be standing on the edge of your roof, or sinking in a bathtub, or playing with guns in a godforsaken desert, or lying on your bathroom floor with a bunch of pills in your hand. It’s like you’ve been hypnotized and suddenly you just wake up from sleepwalking and the immediate threat of dying breathes life into you again; it’s ironic. But by then, it’s too late. So maybe I am lucky. Maybe I have been all along, and maybe there’s some god out there throwing chances at me repeatedly, waiting to see how I’ll fuck it up this time...but I don’t want to be a fuck-up anymore, and I don’t want to ruin what I already have...least of all my life. I don’t wanna live like this anymore, I can’t. I won’t let myself.”

"I wasn't ruining myself anymore. I was just a kid again, the way I was supposed to be. In that way, Gianni is probably the best thing that ever happened to me." "God, I pity your future spouse. Constantly living in the shadow of the Amazing Gianni." "What, you jealous?" "Of what? Your status as the president of the Gianni Fan Club?" "You know, I was considering letting you join as secretary, but maybe I won't. Too bad, because we have some kickass bake sales."

Dear Molly, Sounds like you’ve got a serious case of the Novembers…haha…sorry that was me trying to be funny. The weather’s not much better here. England is weird. This school’s pretty diverse, though, so we get all kinds of accents…no promises on how mine’ll change. But I do promise I’ll stay a Jersey boy forever. My roommate actually has an Italian accent. His name is Gianni and I bet he’d get all the babes if this weren’t an all boys school. Well…who knows what he’s into. He’s great, though. All my dorm mates are. That Drako, though. He’s a wild card…seems like your type. You’re in my dreams a lot. Kinda feels like black magic. I love it though. Love,
Santi P.S. Be safe.