[It's a rare chance, before too much of this world and the real one has time to rebuild itself as a barrier to why this shouldn't (why it can't) be easy. There's just a enough of the teenage fairytale left in the glitter in his hair, on her shoulders, to make the precursor here why not instead of but if.

He's lived with secrets for as long as he can remember. This weekend has only been a reminder of that. But the ones he kept as a child are old to him now, they're easier to bare.

There have been people in his life he's shared them with. And one of them is walking on his arm, and for a little while nothing can seem wrong with the idea that it's where she should be.]

They could drop us into something better than exam week, next time. I get enough late nights reading paperwork on the job.