"You must despise me."
The post-coital slur sounded.
Talking after sex was the last thing Tyler ever wanted to do. Yet somehow, I thrived on it. I thrived on his faults and his irregularities. It showed more of his humanity, the thing he treasured most.
"..I don't think that's the right word." I swallowed dryly.
"Right. Right, man."
He was quick to answer.
It seemed off. Often times it's fuck, light up, then sleep. None of this humoring bullshit. I turned to face him, close enough to feel his breath against my face. I smiled at him, watching his everything imperfect and monstrous person watch me, curiously.
"I hate that I love you."
He smirked.
"Sure, that's better than despising me, but you don't need to lie."
