aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe // highlighted.

we didn’t talk much. we just lay there and looked up at the stars.

“too much light pollution,” he said.

“too much light pollution,” i answered.

//

and it seemed to me that dante’s face was a map of the world. a world without any darkness. wow,

wow, a world without any darkness. how beautiful was that?

//

someday, i would understand my father. someday he would tell me who he was. someday. i hated that word.

//

i wondered what that was like, to hold someone’s hand. i bet you could sometimes find all of the mysteries of the universe in someone’s hand.

//

“are you mad at me?”

“a little.”

he sat back down on his bed. he looked sad. i didn’t like seeing him that way. “i’m more mad at myself,” i said. “i always let you talk me into things. it’s not your fault.”

“yeah,” he whispered.

“don’t cry, okay?”

“okay,” he said.

“you’re crying.”

“i’m not.”

“okay.”

“okay.”

//

i decided that maybe we left each other alone too much. leaving each other alone was killing us.

//

i wanted to tell them that i’d never had a friend, not ever, not a real one. until dante. i wanted to tell them that i never knew that people like dante existed in the world, people who looked at the stars. i wanted to tell them that he had changed my life and that i would never be the same, not ever. i wanted to tell them that he was the first human being who had ever made me want to talk about the things that scared me.

//

how could i have ever been ashamed of loving dante quintana?