Everything hurts, every single thing including the weight of him and I'm crying because it hurts and he's telling me he's sorry over and over again, and I figure somewhere down the track we'll work out the right way of doing this but I don't want to let go, because tonight I'm not looking for anything more than being a part of him. Because being a part of him isn't just anything. It's kind of everything.

They separate us into groups. The Ringleaders and the Others. I belong to the Ringleaders because my weak, pathetic, traitorous, fundamentally base peers point to me when someone asks them who is in charge.

You blame me for this, don't you?" he says. "I don't need to. You're doing a better job.

I’m scared I’m going to spend the rest of my life in a state of yearning, regardless of where I am.

But grief makes a monster out of us sometimes . . . and sometimes you say and do things to the people you love that you can't forgive yourself for.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Okay, would you like pizza?" "I don't think you deserve my company but I feel sorry for you so I'll say yes." "God help me," he said, half under his breath.

Some of us weren't born for rewards, Froi. We were born for sacrifices.