Quotessence
Home / Topics / Mm Romance Quotes

Mm Romance Quotes

Browse 102 quotes about Mm Romance.

Mm Romance Quotes

“The drive from the hospital to this street feels weird. It’s so quick compared to walking,” I murmured absently. Cash turned his head and stared at the side of my face. “You walked to the hospital?” “’Course.” I sat back. “It’s not like driving is really an option around these parts.” “No wonder you were cold. I thought you must have ridden a bike or something.” I snorted and rolled my eyes, turning my head toward him. “Do you really see me on a bike, of any kind?” “Point taken.”

“Your room is empty,” he breathed, sliding in beside me. “Everything’s gone.” “What do you mean, ‘everything’s gone?’” “Your dad donated your furniture, clothes, bed, everything, to the Salvation Army. But I did manage to find this.” From around the other side of his body, he revealed a little brown plush dog. Its ears were dark brown and a white stripe ran from its forehead down to its paws. Its eyes drooped low, sad and sulky, almost crying as it looked up at you. Mom had given him to me when I was little. I had been begging for a dog for years, but Dad refused. He didn’t think I was responsible enough to look after it. “I found him sitting on the hall table and remembered what he used to mean to you.” “Thank you, Cash,” I whispered, glancing at him as tears welled. “Dad sure cleaned me out fast…” A smirk pulled at the corners of my mouth as I attempted to make it a joke, like I didn’t care, but my voice broke. “Oh, Harper.” Cash’s arms wound around my shoulders and pulled me in close. I rested my head in his shoulder and allowed the tears to flow freely, not just because of what my father had done, but for everything. For everything I’d bottled up in the six years since Mom had fallen sick. I’d held back the tears of fear and sadness, not wanting to upset Mom, then stopped them in the eyes of my father. But now, I could let them go, without fear of judgement, because Cash got me; he understood.”

“He disowned me,” I murmured. “Kicked me out and told me to come back when I changed my choice.” “He seriously used those words? That it was a choice?” I nodded. “You can’t change it. Your sexuality is like your DNA. You can’t cut off your finger so it’s no longer there, because it is you. You’re born with it—you just discover it when you mature.”

“Do you remember how your mom would wrap the presents so well it’d take at least five minutes to find where you could rip the paper?” I snorted. “Yes, and they were wrapped so much it was like unwrapping a hundred packages from morning ‘til lunch. It was Mom’s way of extending Christmas.” “I loved that—it always built the excitement. Just when you thought you had it, you had to unroll it. I miss her—she was like a second mother to me.”

“I understand. Just long as you know it wasn’t and isn’t your fault, Harper. It was an illness, one you had no control over. ” “I think deep down I did, I do, but hearing someone like Dad say it was my fault, it…” I trailed off, shaking my head. “It made it real.” “Yeah, exactly.” I nodded absently. “I’m selfish… It’s easy for me to say all that when—”

“done this. “Fay… I-I’m…” I swallowed and bit my lip. Cash wound his arm around my shoulders, and it was all I needed to find the strength, because I knew, no matter what, he’d always be there for me. “I’m gay. Dad kicked me out last night and accidently slammed the door in my face. That’s how I bruised my cheek.” Her eyes flicked from me to Cash and how he was holding me. A new realization dawned across her face. Her lips parted and she slowly raised her hand to her lips. I wondered if she saw the connection between us. Cash was making it perfectly obvious. She ran forward and pulled me into her arms, her eyes glistening. “Oh Harper, honey, I’m so sorry.” “It’s okay,” I said awkwardly. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. Harper?” “Aw, God, what’d I hit?” I asked, groaning while shifting to sit up. The place spun a little. The cold tiles bit into the seams of my jeans. “The shopping cart,” Cash replied, humor edging his voice. “Shit… Feels like a truck, only it hit me.” “Anything hurt?” Cash bent down into my line of vision. “My hands.” I turned them over to find them grazed, “and ass. I fell on it.” “Can you bash yourself up any more?”

“Harper?” Cash murmured after a long moment. “Hmm?” I turned my head. “Do you believe in Santa?” I shifted onto my side to look at him, smiling. “Yeah, I do.” He adjusted his head to look at me. “Even though he’s something our parents say isn’t real?” I nodded. “Yeah, definitely. There’s usually some kind of truth behind stories.” He looked up to the tree then to me. “Think we can see him tonight?” I laughed and sat up. “Who? Santa? Why not? It couldn’t hurt to try.”

“At the beginning of the month I wrote a letter to Santa—I know, childish—but I needed something to hope for, even if it felt silly.” He smiled and shifted to sit by my side, winding his arm around my wait. “Wishing and hoping is never silly, Harper,” he whispered, nipping my jaw. I leaned into his hold and twined our fingers. “I had two things on it: you, and to be accepted.” I stared at the black ink marking my letter in my messy handwriting. He pressed his forehead against my temple. “You were on mine too, only, I didn’t send it to Santa.”

“Colt, you’re going to be a nurse, not a cop. If anything happens, I’ll pay the fines for you.” “Still don’t need it.” “Why?” She paused for a moment, thinking. “Because you’re still trying to get into Daddy’s good books?” “Shut up,” I muttered, blowing my frustrations into another balloon—it grew between my palms. This had nothing to do with my father. “From what you’ve told me of the guy, he’s a jerking dick, Colt. I don’t know why you’re seeking his approval.”

“You saved me, again.” I glanced around, thankful no one was around or they would have been staring. I felt so stupid in his arms. Small, weak, and klutzy. The side of Brett’s mouth quirked as his brows pulled together. “Again?” “Last night,” I murmured, looking back at him as he set me down beside him. “You’re like a knight—always there when I need you.” “I’m no knight, Colt. Far from it—you know that.” ”Robin Hood, then.” He chuckled.”

“Oh yeah, and how do I know that? Because from where I stand, if you hadn’t stepped in, I think he might have.” He laughed. “Damien doesn’t even know what he’s doing. He spiked your drink because he was nervous—why do you think he backed down so easily?” “So that makes it all okay, does it?” I snapped. “Because he was too nervous to get laid for the first time the simple, safe way? That’s petty and sick...” Then something occurred to me. “But why me?” Brett dropped his gaze to his tan suede hiking boots. He paused and tapped a toe against the linoleum. “Brett?” I snapped, knowing he was keeping something from me. “I may have suggested he talk to you,” he murmured. “What? Oh for fuck’s sake!” “Damien wouldn’t have hurt you, Colt.”

“I was denying myself. I knew, but… I was faced with the past again, you know. To admit that I liked you, I had to also admit that I’m gay, and while I don’t have a problem with that…” He trailed off, sighing as he shook his head. “It’s confusing.” “No, it’s not.” I took his hand and twined our fingers. For some reason, it felt familiar. “You don’t want to be the gay kid who made his father crash, but by admitting you like me, you had to face your past… like I do every day.”

“Todd closed his eyes, then, and found himself picturing the other boy involuntarily—surprising himself with the intrusiveness of the thought. It was that fucking smile: there was something about the way the corners of Zack’s eyes had crinkled—the sincerity of it. Todd had felt that smile like it hurt. That smile was sparks. That smile was fireworks. That smile sizzled across the dark landscape of his soul, racing toward the shadows and lighting them up in brief eruptions of pure electric intensity, banishing the corruption in moments of flickering respite. Todd felt them coursing through him like thousands of tiny explosions. Like a squadron of gemstones erupting all at once into an armageddon of prismatic color. Like all that energy was going to carry him to some unknown destination where he could be weightless: wrapped in all its warmth and light and certainty forever and ever. And while he might not know where that place was he desperately needed to go there. To be there, always. Even if the process consumed him entirely. Even if it unmade him. Todd felt as though a sun erupted to life inside of him, then. He felt awake. Alive. And for the first time in so very long he felt the fullness of warmth filling him to the very boundaries of every expanse of himself—defiantly radiating against the cold and dark and shadow that had made it’s home across so much of him for so much of his life. And then—just like that—just as he’d arrived in Todd’s life: Zack was gone. And there was an emptiness that followed in the vacuum of the next few moments. A dark. And Todd felt it—deeply—as all those fireworks and all those sparks and all that color that had momentarily lit up so brilliantly across the insides of him lost the gravity that had once possessed it. The sparkle. And then it was just him there: Todd. Alone. But not entirely. Not ever. Because there was always that other thing. The shadowy thing. The one that he did his very best not to think about at all. It lived out along the wildest fringes of his mind—dancing along the tattered edges of the real—onyx eyes glittering, always. And it was hungry, too.”

“If only I had known those trusted moments would be so few, I would have given voice to my unspoken promises, and shouted my unintended secrets to the sky. That my love for you extended far beyond our bed, and our island. That from the first time you told me you loved me and I let myself believe it, I was no longer shipwrecked on an island. I was where I was meant to be. With you.”

“Fabrizio sperava di separarsi da quel gruppo di stronzi e andare via per sempre. Sognava di essere solo lui con Mimì, a fare musica e, finalmente, dare un calcio a quel posto dimenticato da Dio che è l’hinterland di Milano. Invece due anni dopo sono ancora lì, a suonare e sudare, sputando sangue su spartiti di canzoni che non sono mai abbastanza belle, mai abbastanza buone. Non per lui, almeno. Mimì dice che sono spettacolari e lo guarda come se ci credesse davvero, ma Fabrizio sa che è molto probabile sia solo frutto della sua immaginazione. Perché anche se a volte gli sembra che Mimì lo guardi, anche se è sempre accanto a lui quando sono al pub, anche se quando suonano gli va sempre vicino, Fabrizio sa anche che il suo amico ha una fidanzata. Più di una, a dire il vero. Come se fosse possibile il contrario, poi. Più passano gli anni, più Mimì diventa bello. E più passano gli anni, più Fabrizio si innamora di lui.”