That’s the thing about being an adult standing beside your childhood race car bed. Time collapses, and instead of the version of you you’ve built from scratch, you’re all the hackneyed drafts that came before, all at once.
lit otps ≡ theodore decker and boris pavlikovsky boris seizing my hand, bloody at the knuckles where i’d punched him on the playground, and pressing it to his own bloodied mouth.
