Cadu Santos

“It’s a classic love story. I hit on him at a party, he asked me out, then we fought an epic magical battle between good and evil side by side, and now we need a vacation.”
― Cassandra Clare, The Red Scrolls of Magic

“It’s not your fault,” Alec was saying. He sounded weary, as if he’d been through this sort of thing with his sister before. Clary wondered how many boyfriends she’d turned into rats by accident. “But it ought to teach you not to go to so many Downworld parties,” he added. “They’re always more trouble than they’re worth.”
Isabelle sniffed loudly. “If anything had happened to him, I—I don’t know what I would have done.”
“Probably whatever it is you did before,” said Alec in a bored voice. “It’s not like you knew him all that well.”
“That doesn’t mean that I don’t—”
“What? Love him?” Alec scoffed, raising his voice. “You need to know someone to love them.”
“But that’s not all it is.” Isabelle sounded almost sad. “Didn’t you have any fun at the party, Alec?”
“No.”
“I thought you might like Magnus. He’s nice, isn’t he?”
“Nice?” Alec looked at her as if she were insane. “Kittens are nice. Warlocks are—” He hesitated. “Not,” he finished, lamely.
“I thought you might hit it off.” Isabelle’s eye makeup glittered as bright as tears as she glanced over at her brother. “Get to be friends.”
“I have friends,” Alec said, and looked over his shoulder, almost as if he couldn’t help it, at Jace.
But Jace, his golden head down, lost in thought, didn’t notice.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Bones

“He’d always assumed that storybook moments like these were meant for Jace, Isabelle, anyone but him. Yet here he was.”
― Cassandra Clare, The Red Scrolls of Magic

“He reaches over, takes my face in his hands and pulls me to him. In my idle moments, imagining such a scene, I have always assumed that it would be the other way round, that I would reach for him and he would pull away, denouncing me as a degenerate and a false friend. But now I am neither shocked nor surprised by his initiative, nor do I feel any of the great urgency that I thought I would, should this moment ever come to pass. Instead, it feels perfectly natural, everything he does to me, everything that he allows to happen between us. And for the first time since that dreadful afternoon when my father beat me to within an inch of my life, I feel that I have come home.”
― John Boyne, The Absolutist