Nora Blake repels ordinary. Adam Clarke is constructed entirely of ordinary. ● ● ● "I don't want to share you with the galaxy, Nora Blake," he says quietly, and all at once, all the stars inside my chest are being flung across the universe at full speed and for that particular moment, I am untethered. Unrooted. Flowing. Floating. Something. He doesn't have to, I think, instantly. I am vaguely aware of the fact that I am a kind of traitor: but there is no heavy stone of betrayal in my chest. The galaxy will wait. It will wait until this beautiful boy flings my fragile heart across the universe at full-speed, but right now, I'm so full of it that I don't even care. Look at that. Nora Blake gives up the galaxy. I look at him, then, and there's so much color oozing out of his perfect, jagged cracks that I feel like I'm in one of Nadia's Leonid Afremov paintings and there's a supernova in my chest. "You don't have to," I tell him, so quietly that I don't think he hears. His delicate rose-pink mouth is curved into a kind of frown and his baby-blue gray-flecked gaze is lost somewhere far, far away from the devoid town of Enfield. I recognize that much, and I wonder momentarily if he has his own galaxy somewhere. I don't want to share him either, I think.

❝Do me a favor, Wynona Benoit: tell me that unselfish deeds exist. Be careful though, because I'll start to believe in the world again if you do.❞

As far as similarities go, Ruth and Rory's might be in the negatives. Ruth is a blade of brutal honesty, Rory is the model of perfect Irish manners; she's darkness, he's light; she's heavy rock turned all the way up with the car top down, and he's an acoustic strumming with the rain pattering on the window in the background. When they meet, the laws of the universe dictate that the end result should be a gory mess of screamed half-sentences and deadly glares. But as it turns out, Ruth and Rory might have more to learn from each other than they ever thought they could.

"don't you ever want to steal from life what it stole from you?" two grieving people desperately fill gaps with each other, and occasionally, with petty thefts. PLAYLIST: http://8tracks.com/laamiaa/a-a (working title)

The story of two teens in a suicide recovery club. By @woowoowriting (who writes for Theo) and @_animus (who writes for Noelle).