He does this thing with people he loves. The way he lets you in, just a little bit at a time, and you don’t even really notice it until suddenly you know everything about him, every scar on his body and mind. It stops being a question of whether or not you’d follow him off a cliff and it becomes just a fact of life, that you’d hold his hand on the way down. All of a sudden, you’re a part of him, like another limb, and you don’t think to question it until you realize that you treat him the same way, like he’s your heart and your lungs and your blood would freeze in your veins without him. You stop being two distinct beings with two separate minds. You’re still different people, but it stops being a ‘you-and-him’ and it becomes a 'we’. And then he’s gone, and you’ve heard of phantom limbs, when amputees feel agonizing pain in limbs that aren’t there anymore, and maybe that’s what this is, but you’re walking around like a zombie and you can’t think and you can’t even fucking breathe, because he isn’t here and you’ve forgotten how to live without him.
— from an unfinished story #818