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:::by jill:::�will you always defend me?� she asked. �always,� he whispered. �even when I�m wrong?� �even then.� they lay in silence for a moment. the room smelled like cereal and old things; they�d snuck away to watch the sunrise, but realized later that the windows in room were facing south, not east. he had created a fake paper sun out of red construction paper, stuck it to the glass closest to the bed. �why is it that I need to know that?� she shifted her weight, turned on her side to face him. She pulled her knees up to her stomach, wrapping in her own warmth.�what difference does it make?� �it makes all the difference,� he said. �it means that i�d rather do the wrong thing than see you hurt. it means you�re important to me.� he ran his thumb along her lower lip, her teeth. �i would rather never be wrong,� she murmured, kissing his shoulders, his collarbone . the sideways sunlight was beginning to creep in. �i�d rather that just your saying so could make me good. can you make that happen?� his eyes searched the room. the ceiling, mostly. he breathed gently, like water. �no,� he said. �i don�t know how to do that.� �it�s okay.� she opened her hand on his back. �knowing that you want to is enough. that you would if you could.� The red paper sun looked dark against the light.
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