"When he got on the bus, she was already sitting in their seat — but sitting in his spot, against the wall. He was too embarrassed to say anything. He sat down next to her and let his hands hang between his knees…
Which meant she really had to reach for his wrist, to pull his hand into hers. She wrapped her fingers around his and touched his palm with her thumb.
Her fingers were trembling.
"—
From Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell
The whole chapter about them holding hands was stunning and perfect and completely reminded me of the first time I held the hand of someone I really liked. I had to put down the book after all of that and just go to sleep.
(Source: heidireadsya)
It was easy to forget sometimes, when they were laughing together, or kissing. But then one of them would say something, or do something, and he would suddenly be reminded of the wall between their worlds.
(Source: maisiewilliams, via songsofwolves)
"It’s going to be okay,” Park said.
She nodded. “Right.”
“Because I love you.”
She laughed. “Is that why?”
“It is, actually.”
“Good-bye,” she said. “Good-bye Park.”
“Good-bye, Eleanor…"
She nodded. “Right.”
“Because I love you.”
She laughed. “Is that why?”
“It is, actually.”
“Good-bye,” she said. “Good-bye Park.”
“Good-bye, Eleanor…"
— “Eleanor & Park” by rainbow rowell
(Source: himmelle)
"You think that holding someone hard will bring them closer. You think that you can hold them so hard that you’ll still feel them, embossed on you, when you pull away."
— “Eleanor & Park” by rainbow rowell
(Source: himmelle)
"I don’t know how to say good-bye to you,” she said.
He smoothed her hair off her face. He’d never seen her so fair. “Then don’t.”
“But I have to go…”
“So go,” he said with his hands on her cheeks. “But don’t say good-bye. It’s not good-bye.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “That’s so lame.”
“Seriously? You can’t cut me five minutes of slack?”
“That’s what people say—‘it’s not good-bye’—when they’re too afraid to face what they’re really feeling. I’m not going to see you tomorrow, Park—I don’t know when I’ll see you again. That deserves more than ‘it’s not good-bye’.”
“I’m not afraid to face what I’m feeling,” he said.
“Not you,” she said, her voice breaking. “Me.”
“You,” she said, putting his arms around her and promising himself that it wouldn’t be the last time, “are the bravest person I know.”
She shook her head again, like she was trying to shake off the tears.
“Just kiss me good-bye,” she whispered.
Only for today, he thought. Not ever."
He smoothed her hair off her face. He’d never seen her so fair. “Then don’t.”
“But I have to go…”
“So go,” he said with his hands on her cheeks. “But don’t say good-bye. It’s not good-bye.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “That’s so lame.”
“Seriously? You can’t cut me five minutes of slack?”
“That’s what people say—‘it’s not good-bye’—when they’re too afraid to face what they’re really feeling. I’m not going to see you tomorrow, Park—I don’t know when I’ll see you again. That deserves more than ‘it’s not good-bye’.”
“I’m not afraid to face what I’m feeling,” he said.
“Not you,” she said, her voice breaking. “Me.”
“You,” she said, putting his arms around her and promising himself that it wouldn’t be the last time, “are the bravest person I know.”
She shook her head again, like she was trying to shake off the tears.
“Just kiss me good-bye,” she whispered.
Only for today, he thought. Not ever."
— “Eleanor & Park” by rainbow rowell
(Source: himmelle)
“It’s okay,” he said. “We’re together.”
He didn’t say you’re okay, or we’re alive. After all they’d been through over the last year, he knew the most important thing was that they were together. She loved him for saying that.
(Source: ohaugustus, via bookissimo)
"You saved my life, she tried to tell him. Not forever, not for good. Probably just temporarily. But you saved my life, and now I’m yours. The me that’s me right now is yours. Always."
— Went to Harvard today with the intention of bopping around one final time, but then I ended up spending three hours reading “Eleanor & Park” by Rainbow Rowell to completion and cried in the poetry section of the Harvard Coop bookstore as I finished. GOOD FUCKING BOOK Y’ALL
(Source: youvegotbeauty)
(via insecuresystem)
His Dark Sutra: On Self Love
Don’t be a receptacle for love; a void waiting to be filled by another.
Instead fill yourself with self-love based on all the aspects that make you unique and wondrous.
Then,
Let it flow out of you.
And in time, your hidden lover will see it and arrive at your door.
