Any Way the Wind Blows

I can touch you less gently, but I won't love you less kindly.

What a ridiculous creature. Happy that I put butter on his sandwich. As if I wouldn't make the world spin backwards if I thought he'd like it better that way.

I know I'll never love anyone like I love Baz. I know he's the love of my life. Of all my lives.

I'm always holding on by a thread! I thought the important thing was that I'm holding on!

This thing between us didn't start with us dating. It didn't even start when you kissed me. You're in me so deep, I wouldn't know how to dig you out. I may get fed up with you... But, Simon, I'll never get tired of you.

You.. love me?'' Snow nods. ''Yeah,'' he says, ''of course.'' Like it's obvious. It isn't obvious. It has not been obvious. ''You never said,'' I say. ''Haven't I?'' ''No.'' He frowns. ''I thought- I mean... I've killed so many things for you.'' I laught. It might be another sob, but mabe it's just a laugh. ''What are you, a house cat? Am I supposed to know how you feel because you brought me a mouse?'' The corner of Snow's mouth twitches. ''I brought you a cow once, remember? And I killed that chimera for you in fifth year.

Just know," he says, "that I'd do anything for you. That I'd let you do anything to me. There's nothing about you that I don't want.

I understand that you've lost something— a lot of things— but you're still the same person. I know, because I loved you then, and I love you now, and I know that's not enough to make you happy— to make anyone happy— but you're the same person, Simon. You're still you.'' ''It's enough,'' he finally grumbles. ''What is,'' I whisper. ''The fact that you love me. It does make me happy.

I thought we had the sort of love that you can't set down or walk away from. An undying fire. The love you hear about in the old stories. No one told Simon Snow the old stories.

Turn off that music!” Fiona shouts from the next room. “No emo shit in my flat.” “I am emo shit. “This is electronic soul,” I mutter.

Simon Snow is grinning at me, holding out a live rat like a single-stemmed rose.

No flowers,'' He kisses my cheek. ''So noted, rosebud boy.'' I look up at him. ''That's what the ghost called me— your mother. That's what she said.'' Baz is looking in my eyes. ''I remember.'' He runs his thumb over my cheek. Then my bottom lip. ''My rosebud boy.

We can't come apart like this. We're not made of pieces that come apart.

I need to replace every single person in my life with someone more functional, is what I need.

Is this what people do? Get as close as they can and then push closer? Burn each other's faces into their eyelids? Let each other into every gap? And then what? Then just tomorrow, and more?

And then he kisses me. I kiss him back. And back. And back.

When has Bunce ever ignored a dangerous proposition?” 42 PENELOPE “Maybe we should just summon the demon and see what happens.

All I really know is that nothing I've experienced so far compares to you. Maybe that makes me gay . . . or maybe that just makes me yours.

It's hard to hide from someone who loves you.

That's a tremendous thing—to be able to hold the world inside of yourself, and still feel compassionate for it.

(I don't understand what this is. Why people do it. Why we stoke fires in each other. What are we burning?)

Who summoned a demon? Do people just leave the gates open in America? Have you all found a way to frak the Netherworlds? ''I...'' I've never seen Shepard at a loss for words. He tips his head down. ''I summoned one.'' She looks appalled. ''Why?'' He winces. ''To see if i could?'' ''Oh, Shepard. Penelope, where do you find these tragic morons?

I keep talking, holding up both hands. “My point, Penelope, is that it’s not your problem to fix.” “Of course it is!” “Why?” “Be-because-” she sputters. “Because it’s a problem that—that exists.” “You’re responsible for all existing problems?” She buries her hands in her hair. “No! But yes. What sort of person would I be if I didn’t help you?” I try to look reassuring. “A normal one.

What kind of girl brings you home because you’re cursed?

It's like I dreamed of kissing him in black-and-white, and now I'm kissing him in colour.

Is something wrong?” “Yes. Shepard. You’ve lost your soul to a demon.” I shrug. “But that’s not…urgent.” “How is spending eternity in demonic service not urgent?” “It’s eternity. Not tomorrow.

I’ve been here before. Wanting to crawl out of my skin and leave myself for dead after a miserable attempt to do more than kiss.