aelin:

he didn’t want to think about this, didn’t want to feel this, so he thought about the foxes instead. he clung tight to the memory of their unhesitating friendship and their smiles. he pretended the h e a r t b e a t pounding a sick pace in his temples was an exy ball ricocheting off the court walls. he thought of wymack holding him up in december and andrew pushing him down against the bedroom floor. the memories made him weak with grief and loss, but they made him s t r o n g e r, too. 

he’d come to the foxhole court every inch a lie, but his friends made him into someone real.