"So, picture this. You become fuckbuddies, and it’s your suggestion, because you really want to know what it’s like to be with him, and you kind of—let him believe that’s all you want. But in actuality, inside, you’re just—spiralling, honestly. Because you want him. You want him. All the time. And you probably always have. No. You definitely always have. And you don’t just want to fuck him, you want him, but you can’t tell him, because he never agreed to that, so you sort of have to. Play along. And hope he’ll get it, you know? That he’ll just figure it out?" Harry bites his lip. He winces. "Is that really terrible? Would something like that make me a terrible person?"