You spend your life being told falling in love is this beautifully cataclysmic event that alters your existence before you even realize the Earth has been thrown off its axis. No one tries to tell you there’s a reason people fucking tell you things over and over again because they’ve long since assumed you’ll just get that it’s true. The sky is blue. The grass is fucking green. The first time you’re in love with someone it’s going to hurt a lot fucking more than feel good because you’ve never done it before. There’s no way to mentally prepare you for the kind of emotional offset that is the result of feeling attached at the liver with another human being. There are monumental counterbalances, the scale is always shifting, and you finally realize that Disney had no idea what it was talking about all along. The company’s standard for romance is so fucking whack and unrealistic that people divorcing the way flies drop finally starts to make sense. That being said, you have to experience it first-hand. You have to really know what it’s like to be hurt. Then you have to own up to it, and some people just can’t do that. Sometimes, it’s admirable to throw in the cards, breech the poker face, and let the world know you’ve been annihilated by someone you put so much of yourself into.
His lips didn’t touch her skin, but she felt his breath, hot and uneven, on her face. His fingers splayed on either side of her spine. Her lips were so closed to his jaw that she felt his hint of stubble at the end of them. It was mint and memories and the past and the future and she felt as if she’d done this before and already she longed to do it again.
Blue&Gansey, The Dream Thieves by Maggie Stiefvater (via greywaren)
I read this scene over and over again. Oh the feels!