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  1. so i had an hour of free time yesterday and this is what happened. honestly it's a little bit of a mess and even i'm confused by some of it, but i haven't put any writing on here in, like, forever, so here you go! i hope the lack of capitalization isn't too annoying; i don't have the time or energy to fix it :/ paris and i are sitting on the porch of his house. he's holding a cup of cider, both hands wrapped around it and his legs crossed. some hair falls into his face as his lowers his head toward it, catching the steam on his face. "callum." he says. "yeah?" paris shifts his fingers on the mug. "it's cold." i nod. we're both wearing jackets, and we both have blankets wrapped around our shoulders. the air is freezing and my eyes are heavy but i don't don't don't want to go inside. "if you could choose one emotion to never feel again," he asks, "what would it be. "i think all emotions are important," i say, though i know he's going to laugh. "really?" paris covers his mouth, but he's giggling like he's drunk and doing a bad job of hiding it. "well, yeah." i cross my arms. "i guess." "i would choose, uh..." paris stops. "happiness," i say, as a joke. but he stops smiling. "maybe," he says. "that's stupid." he shrugs. "do you want me to tell your parents? i will, if you're serious. go up to them and be like 'paz doesn't want to be happy.' idiot." i nudge him with my elbow. paris turns away from me. he pulls his fingers away from the mug and sticks his hands out. there's moonlight on his light brown skin and he's never pale but right now he looks like a corpse. his face is covered in shadow. i thought he was joking. "why wouldn't you want to be happy?" i ask. "i do," paris says, and it's half angry. "cal." i turn. "what's your answer?" "i already-" "no, you didn't." paris says. he uncrosses his legs. "you avoided the question. not the same thing." "fine." i fiddle with the laces on my shoes while i think. "what if i can't decide?" "you have to." "is i wish paz would stop asking impossible questions an emotion?" "nope." he's starting to grin again. that settles me, and i can breathe all the way again. "okay," i say. "i guess i wouldn't want to feel annoyed." "annoyed?" paris snorts. "jesus. not even angry?" "leave me alone," i say. "you got what you wanted." "i wanted a real answer," he says. "not a baby one." "that's my answer. for real." i poke his leg. "i'm not going back on it. now, what's yours?" "is callum can't participate in conversations for shit an emotion?" "fuck off," i say. "wow." "i would choose to not be disappointed. or angry." paris shrugs. "wait," i say. "i have a new answer." he raises his eyebrows. "a real one?" "depends on how picky you are." "well, let's hear it." paris takes a sip of his cider. "i think regret," i say. his eyes soften as he looks at me. "no one cares anymore. it's all fine." he says. "just let it go." i swallow. "we all love you," paris says. "okay?" "yeah," i say. "okay." he runs the backs of his fingers down my arm. i close my eyes. "i'm gonna go with anger," he says. "good," i manage. "that would be nice." he laughs. "thanks." paris finishes his cider and sets his cup behind us, next to mine. he turns to look at the house. "i wonder if they can see us?" "i think they're asleep," i say. "mine, at least. parents always go to bed early." "i hope so," paris says. he pulls a face and flips off the second story window. "you know," i say. "we'll probably be parents someday. and go to bed early while our kids sit on the porch at one in the morning." "might be a little early to be planning that far into our future, no?" paris says. he shoots me a smile. "maybe i don't want a porch." "oh." my neck gets hot. "i didn't mean- i just meant, like, probably, our separate kids. not-" "i'm just messing with you." he says. "we should totally get a house together. and i would love a porch."
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