I just want to know how you’re made,” Trevor breathed in his ear. “I love you so much, Zach. I want to climb inside you. I want to taste your brain. I want to feel your heart beating in my hands.

I carried my pint to a corner table and sat just looking at it for a moment: the head of foam, the tiny bubbles ascending through clear gold, the droplets condensing on the sides of the glass, then running down to form a wet circle on the beer mat. Reputations are ruined, marriages destroyed, lifes works forsaken for the beauty of such a sight. There are seven thousand pubs in London.

If you’re ever lucky enough to belong somewhere, if a place takes you in and you take it into yourself, you don’t desert it just because it can kill you. There are things more valuable than life.

Why bother? I was right all along: the second you make yourself vulnerable to someone, they start drawing blood.