ella solgaard

“Um, and this is….Ilya. Rozanov. You probably know that.”
“Hi,” Ilya said.
“And he’s been…visiting. He’s…we’re, um…”
What were they, exactly? It occurred to Shane that he and Ilya hadn’t even figured out what label they were comfortable with.
“Lovers,” Ilya offered.
Fuck, way to choose the grossest possible word, Ilya.
Well, there was no going back from that word. Shane could only wait for the aftermath.
“But…you hate him,” Mom said.
“No, I…don’t. I mean. Sometimes I do, kinda. But mostly I..love him. Actually.”
“You..what?”
― Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry

“darling, dearest
i'm fighting for your kind of quiet”
― MediaWhore, Tired Tired Sea

“it's you.
it's you my love, who brought me back here again and again - if only in thoughts - like the never-ending storm on this island, whose winds and waves kiss the beach you walk week after week. you stand as tall as your tower in my mind's eyes, a guiding light, a call home.”
― MediaWhore, Tired Tired Sea

“Do you think we looked like that to them?” “What, sexy? I probably did.” “No, like...in love?” Ilya seemed to consider the question before answering. “We are very good at pretending to not be in love. Maybe we are bad at showing it when we are allowed.”
― Rachel Reid, The Long Game