“I like you a lot. Because you’re funny and smart and because you seem to like me. I know that’s not a good reason, but I can’t help it; if a girl likes me I tend to like her back [...] I like you for all this stuff but I also kind of like you for the cuts on your face—”

“So you like me because I can think like a rebel, but I act like a good girl?”

“You like me not because I like you. I like you just because I like me.”

“I like everything about you, Larry. I like the way you look and how you’re so clever, and I like it when we laugh together and watch TV together. I like going to art galleries with you and hearing you get all bitchy about some of the artists. I like watching you when you’re doing marking, ’cause you get these funny looks on your face. I like watching you sleep and hearing that snuffly noise you make. I like waking up with you at weekends and spending the day together, just doing stuff like walking round town and shopping and cooking and stuff.” I kind of ran out of breath after that.For a moment, I thought he was going to cry.“Is there anything you don’t like about me?”

“Because I like you a lot. Because you’re beautiful and strong and make me feel things I can’t allow myself to feel. Because you listen to me in the moonlight like every word I say forms a drop of nectar. Because you’ve lived a shit life and come out the other side to be someone amazing. Because now you live a dangerous life with a scar on your back to prove it and I can’t afford to lose anyone else that means something to me...”

“I can’t let you die!” I sobbed. “It’ll be like I’m dead anyways without you. Since I left, that’s what it’s felt like—like some part of me died because I couldn’t be with you, couldn’t see you. I’d rather die knowing it was for your freedom.”