“He touches my face, his thumb smoothing over my lips. "You're my June, Tru.”

“Holding my face with his hands, fingers buried deep in my hair, he stares down at me in the darkness. “It’s always been you, Tru. Always.”

“You ask what I want from you?” His eyes move to my lips, then my eyes. “I want you, Tru. I just want you. All day, every day.”

“I don't remember looking like this in the mirror this morning. Obviously, I still had my 'Tru looks awesome in anything' margarita goggles still on.”

“Fuck," he groans. "This is.... Tru... you feel... fuccckk.”

“Birthday present number three,” he murmurs, brushing my hair back off my face.“I’m still yet to get you anything.”“I got all my twelve the moment you agreed to be mine.”

“...I didn't know the meaning of the word dying until you left me. This last week without you.." He pulls in a sharp breath, briefly closing his eyes. "I'm nothing without you Tru, nothing.”