Aaron Warner Quotes

Aaron Warner Anderson, chief commander and regent of Sector 45, son of the supreme commander of The Reestablishment. He has a soft spot for fashion.

Ignite, my love. Ignite.

It's not charity," I snap. "He cares about me--and I care about him!" Warner nods, unimpressed. "You should get a dog, love. I hear they share much the same qualities.

The tattoo is just setting below his hp bone. H e l l i s e m p t y a n d a l l t h e d e v i l s a r e h e r e I kiss my way across the words. Kissing away the devils. Kissing away the pain.

And if you insist on continuing to make assumptions about my character, I’ll advise you only this: assume you will always be wrong.

Can you hear my heart? I want to ask him. I want you to make a list of all your favorite things, and I want to be on it.

In a world where there is so much to grieve and so little good to take? I grieve nothing. I take everything.

Don't do that," he says. "Don't ask me questions you already know the answers to. Twice I've laid myself bare to you and all it's gotten me was a bullet wound and a broken heart. Don't torture me," he says, meeting my eyes again. "It's a cruel thing to do, even to someone like me.

I do want you," I say to him, my voice shaking. "I want you so much it scares me.

Do you never get exhausted being so wholly unbearable? You have as much charisma as the rotting innards of unidentified roadkill.

I love you, Ella. I will love you for the rest of my life. My heart is yours. Please don't ever give it back to me. - Warner

To the world, she is formidable. To me? She is the world.

People can think whatever they like....I don't desire their validation.

I loved making you mad," he says to me, his eyes wicked. "I love making you mad.

You’re perfect,” I tell him, so overcome I forget myself. “All of you. Your entire body. Proportionally. Symmetrically. You’re absurdly, mathematically perfect. It doesn’t even make sense that a person could look like you,

You are so confident," he says to me. "You're stubborn and resilient. So brave. So strong. So inhumanly beautiful. You could conquer the world.

I'm having a panic attack, you inconsiderate ass.

We are synonyms but not the same.

I am so tired, love.I'm so very,very tired.

Come back to me, love. Come back.” I’m still struggling to breathe, desperately searching his eyes for answers. Explanations. “Where?” “Here,” he whispers, pressing my hands to his heart. “Home.

You think these recent events are everything. You think Aaron fell in love with your friend of several months, a rebel girl named Juliette. You don't know. You don't know. You don't know that Aaron has been in love with Ella for the better part of his entire life. They've known each other since childhood...…..The reason he had to keep wiping their memories was because it didn't matter how many times he reset the story or remade the introductions - Aaron always fell in love with her. Every time. - Delalieu

i would happily watch the world go up in flames if anything happened to her, and if that's not enough for you, you can go to hell.

Stop. Stop time. Stop the world. Stop everything for the moment he crosses the room and pulls me into his arms and pins me against the wall and I'm spinning and standing and not even breathing but I'm alive so very very alive.

Aaron always fell in love with her. Every time.

I can't remember a single time in my life when someone apologized to me for hurting my feelings. No one has ever cared about my feelings long enough to apologize for hurting them. In my experience, I'm usually the monster. I'm the one expected to make amends.

Go to hell, Kishimoto.” “I'm right behind you, bro.” He winks at me.

I want to be the friend you fall hopelessly in love with. The one you take into your arms and into your bed and into the private world you keep trapped in your head. I want to be that kind of friend," he says, " the one who will memorize the things you say as well as the shape of your lips when you say them. I want to know every curve, every freckle, and every shiver of your body, ...." ........ " I want to know where to touch you," he says, " i want to know how to touch you. I want to know how to convince you design a smile just for me." ...... " Yes, " he says, " i do want to be your bestfriend". He says, " I want to be your bestfriend in the entire world". --- Aaron Warner

So she told me a story. A story about a boy who was born with very green eyes, and the man who was so captivated by their color that he searched the world for a stone in exactly the same shade.” His voice is fading now, falling into whispers so quiet I can hardly hear him. “She said the boy was me. That this ring was made from that very same stone, and that the man had given it to her, hoping one day she’d be able to give it to me. It was his gift, she said, for my birthday." He stops. Breathes. “And then she took it off, slipped it on my index finger, and said, ‘If you hide your heart, he will never be able to take it from you'.

So this— This is agony. This is what they talk about when they talk about heartbreak. I thought I knew what it was like before. I thought I knew, with perfect clarity, what it felt like to have my heart broken, but now—now I finally understand.

Come back to life, love. I’ll be here when you wake up.

i worry, sometimes, that my love for her will expand beyond the limitations of my body, that it will one day kill me with its heft.

I understand perfectly. He's fallen for your quiet, timid shell. For who you used to be. He has no idea what you're capable of. What you might do if you're pushed too far.

Aaron Warner Anderson is the only emotional through line in my life that ever made sense. He's the only constant. The only steady, reliable heartbeat I've ever had.

She searches me with those odd, blue-green eyes and I feel guilty so suddenly, without understanding why. But there’s something about the way she looks at me that always makes me feel insignificant, as if she’s the only one who’s realized I’m entirely hollow inside. She’s found the cracks in this cast I’m forced to wear every day, and it petrifies me. That this girl would know exactly how to shatter me.

I didn't understand then that a home is not always a place. Sometimes, it's a person.

I love you, Ella.' I whisper. 'I will love you for the rest of my life. My heart's yours. Please don't ever give it back to me.

There are three things you should know about me, love." He steps forward. "The first," he says, "is that I hate my father more than you might ever be capable of understanding." He clears his throat. "Second, is that I am an unapologetically selfish person, who, in almost every situation, makes decisions based entirely on self-interest. And third." A pause as he looks down. Laughs a little. "I never had any intention of using you as a weapon.

And I realize then, in a moment that terrifies me, that I want this, forever. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I want to build a future with her. I want to grow old with her. I want to marry her.

But it’s my wedding day,” she says. “And I have nothing to wear.” “You’re right.” I kiss the top of her head. “I’m going to kill him.

In the steady thrum that accompanies quiet, my mind is unkind to me. I think too much. I feel, perhaps, far more than I should. It would be only a slight exaggeration to say that my goal in life is to outrun my mind, my memories.

Juliette." I close my eyes. He says, "I don't want you to call me Warner anymore." I open my eyes. "I want you to know me," he says, breathless, his fingers pushing a stray strand of hair away from my face. "I don't want to be Warner with you," he says. "I want it to be different now. I want you to call me Aaron.

Juliette Ferrars, one of the most feared, most lauded heroes of our known world, is crying over a dog.

This is, after all, what we're fighting for, isn't it? A second chance at joy. - Ella

I love it when you say my name,” he says. “I don’t even know why.” “Warner isn’t your name,” I point out. “Your name is Aaron.” His smile is wide, so wide. “God, I love that.” "Your name?” “Only when you say it.” “Aaron? Or Warner?” His eyes close. He tilts his head back against the wall. Dimples.

It was obvious, every time he put them in the same room. They were like magnets.

There is nothing to fear. Nothing to worry about. Grieve nothing in this transitory world," he says softly.

I want to hurt people all the time,” he says. “Sometimes I can’t sleep at night because I’m thinking about all the people I’d like to murder.

When she's here, right here, it's so much easier to breathe. She's real when she's in my arms

he says : " please don't shoot me for this " and he kissed me .

Marry me,' he whispers. I stare at him, disbelief and joy colliding. And it's the look in his eyes —the hopeful, terrified look in his eyes— that nearly kills me. I'm suddenly crying. I clasp my hands over my face. A sob escapes my mouth. Gently, he pries my hands away from my face. 'Ella?' he says, his words barely a whisper. I'm still crying when I throw my arms around his neck, still crying when he says, a little nervously— 'Sweetheart, I really need to know if this means yes or no—' 'Yes,' I cry, slightly hysterical. 'Yes, yes to everything with you. Yes to forever with you. Yes.

I have never claimed to live by any set of principles," Warner says to me. "I've never claimed to be right, or good, or even justified in my actions. I have been forced to do terrible things in my life, love, and I am seeking neither your forgiveness nor your approval. Because I do not have the luxury of philosophizing over scruples when I'm forced to act on basic instinct every day.

What difference does it make?" he says. "People can think whatever they like. I don't desire their validation." "So you don't mind," I ask him, "that people judge you so harshly?" "I have no one to impress," he says. "No one who cares about what happens to me. I'm not in the business of making friends, love. My job is to lead an army, and it's the only thing I'm good at. No one," he says, "would be proud of the things I've accomplished. My mother doesn't even know me anymore. My father thinks I'm weak and pathetic. My soldiers want me dead. The world is going to hell. And the conversations I have with you are the longest I've ever had.

i think my heart is going to explode

That you could love me at all seems like some kind of miracle." She smiles, even as she shakes her head. "That's ridiculous," she says. "It's very, very easy to love you." -Warner and Ella

Maybe they see something in him, see something in his face, in his features. Maybe they see what I see from this disjointed, foggy perspective. The desperation in his expression, the anguish carved into his features, the way he looks at me, like he might die if I do. And I can't help but think this is an interesting parting gift from the world.

Gone is the boy with the guns and the skeletons in his closet. These hands holding me have never held a weapon. These hands have never touched death. These hands are perfect and kind and tender.

I want this up and I want these down

I grieve nothing, I take everything" - Aaron Warner

In this new, turbulent reality, the one person I recognize is him. My memories of him - memories of us - have done something to me. I've changed somewhere deep inside. I feel different. Heavier, like my feet have been more firmly planted, liberated by certainty, free to grow roots here in my own self, free to trust unequivocally in the strength and steadiness of my own heart. It's an empowering discovery, to find that I can trust myself - even when I'm not myself - to make the right choices. To know for certain now that there was at least one mistake I never made. Aaron Warner Anderson is the only emotional through line in my life that ever made sense. He's the only constant. The only steady, reliable heartbeat I've ever had. Aaron, Aaron, Aaron, Aaron. I had no idea how much we'd lost, no idea how much of him I'd longed for. I had no idea how desperately we'd been fighting. How many years we'd fought for moments - minutes - to be together. It fills me with a painful kind of joy. - Ella

I can't help but be amazed at the power such small, unassuming animals wield over us; they so easily break down our defences.

I'm nineteen years old," he clarifies. "I'm a fairly impressive specimen for my age, I know.

Forgive me. I know it all seems stupid now, but I don't want to take anything for granted anymore. Forgive me for hurting you. Forgive me for not trusting you. I took my pain out on you and I'm so sorry. I was selfish, and I hurt you, and I'm so sorry. - Ella

I kiss my way across the words. Kissing away the devils. Kissing away the pain.

Right now all I want is this. I just want to be here. With you. Whatever comes next, we'll face it together.

Do you know,” he says, closing the cover of the journal only to lay his hand on top of it. Protecting it. Staring at it. “I couldn’t sleep for days after I read that entry. I kept wanting to know which people were chasing you down the street, who it was you were running from. I wanted to find them,” he says, so softly, “and I wanted to rip their limbs off, one by one. I wanted to murder them in ways that would horrify you to hear.

I would happily watch the world go up in flames if anything happened to her

He destroyed her dress the night before our wedding. Like a monster. I’m going to murder him.

I feel it, I feel my thin morals dissolving. I feel my flimsy, moth-eaten skin of humanity begin to come apart, and with it, the veil keeping me from complete darkness. There are no lines I won't cross. No illusions of mercy. I wanted to be better for her. For her happiness. For her future. But if she's gone, what good is goodness? - Warner

I'm going to marry you today. And then I'm going to make love to you until you can't remember your name.

I imagine this is what it feels like to fall apart.

You've always known me, love. I've always known you. And I'm so-I'm so desperately in love with you-

So the two of you' —Ian tries to find his voice—'I mean, together—you two could basicaly—' 'Take over the world?

I touch his face, almost without meaning to, gently , like he might be a ghost, like this might be a dream and the tips of my fingers graze his cheek, trail the line of his jaw and I stop when his breath catches, when his body shakes almost imperceptibly and we lean in as if by memory eyes closing lips just touching “Give me another chance, ” he whispers, resting his forehead against mine. My heart aches, throbs in my chest. “Please,” he says softly, and he’s somehow closer now, his lips touching mine as he speaks and I feel pinned in place by emotion, unable to move as he presses the words against my mouth, his hands soft and hesitant around my face and he says, “I swear on my life,” he says, “ I won’t disappoint you” and he kisses me Kisses me right here, in the middle of everything, in front of everyone.

When she's here, right here, it's so much easier to breath. She's real when she's in my arms

Every single time you claim to understand even a fraction of what I’m feeling, I want to disembowel you. I want to sever your carotid artery. I want to rip out your vertebrae, one by one. You have no idea what it is to love her,” he says angrily. “You couldn’t even begin to imagine. So stop trying to understand.

Ella,” I say. “You’re going to be my wife.

It's like there are a million screams caught inside of my chest but I have to keep them all in because what's the point of screaming if you'll never be heard.

You want me,” he says softly, his hands moving up my back, “and it’s killing you.

If Ella were a house, she would be a grand home, one with many rooms and doors, all of which were easily unlocked, flung open. If I were a house, I would be haunted.

So you know how to get there?" "Of course." "But your father said you couldn't remember anything about Omega Point." Warner glances over, his eyes laughing. "How convenient for us that I've regained my memory.

Because I was dying. 　　And Warner could’ve let me die. He was angry and hurt and had every reason to be bitter. I’d just ripped his heart out; I’d let him believe something would come of our relationship. I let him confess the depth of his feelings to me; I let him touch me in ways even Adam hadn't. I didn't ask him to stop. 　　Every inch of me was saying yes. 　　And then I took it all back. Because I was scared, and confused, and conflicted. Because of Adam. 　　Warner told me he loved me, and in return I insulted him and lied to him and yelled at him and pushed him away. And when he had the chance to stand back and watch me die, he didn’t. 　　He found a way to save my life. 　　With no demands. No expectations. Believing full well that I was in love with someone else, and that saving my life meant making me whole again only to give me back to another guy. 　　And right now, I can’t say I know what Adam would do if I were dying in front of him. I’m not sure if he would save my life. And that uncertainty alone makes me certain that something wasn't right between us.

Aaron Anderson Warner is the only emotional through line in my life that ever made sense. He's the only constant, The only steady, reliable heartbeat I've ever had.

So I take a deep breath. Step forward. Let go. 10 seconds and I'm trying to breathe 9 And I'm trying to be brave 8 But the truth is I'm scared out of my mind 7 And I have no idea what's waiting for me behind that door 6 And I'm pretty sure I'm going to have a heart attack 5 But I can't turn back now 4 Because there it is 3 The door is right in front of me 2 All I have to do is knock 1 Butthe door flies open first.

But now Warner’s eyes are moving, studying me. He looks at me with such intensity I wonder if he’s even aware he’s doing it. I wonder if he knows that when he looks at me like that I can feel it as acutely as if his bare skin were pressed against my own, that it does things to me when he looks at me like that and it makes me crazy.

I sold my soul for a few years with my mother, and now, after everything, I don't even know if it'll be worth it. - Warner

You know —I feel everything when you touch me, love. I can feel your excitement. Your nervousness. Your pleasure. And I love it,' he says quietly. 'I love the way you respond to me. I love the way you want me. I feel it, when you lose yourself, the way you trust me when we're together. And I feel your love for me,' he whispers. 'I feel it in my bones.' 'I have loved you my entire life.' He looks up, looks at me with so much feeling it nearly breaks my heart. 'Ella,' he says, his voice rough with feeling. 'I want to spend the rest of my life with you.

Warner. A white bird with streaks of gold like a crown atop its head. A fair - skinned boy with gold hair, the leader of Sector 45. It was always him. All along . The link.

I don't want you to be repulsed by me.

Idiots are highly flammable love, let them all burn in hell

He kisses me again, his occasional gasps for air hot against my skin, and I taste him, his mouth, his neck, the hard line of his jaw and he fights back a groan, pulls away, pain and pleasure twinning together as he moves deeper, harder, his muscles taught, his body rock solid against mine. He has one hand around the back of my neck, the other around the back of my thigh and he wraps us together, impossibly closer, overwhelming me with an extraordinary pleasure that feels like nothing I've ever known. It's nameless. Unknowable, impossible to plan for. It's different every time.

My thoughts, I think, will soon be sound. My mind, I hope, will soon be found.

I'd acquired friends.

Warner leans back, just a little. “Tell me what you want,” he says desperately. “Tell me what to do,” he says, “and I’ll do it.” “This is, by far, the craziest shit I have ever seen,” Kenji says. “I really never would’ve believed it. Not in a million years.” “It’s like a soap opera.” Ian nods. “But with worse acting.

Warner has collapsed in the corner. He's curled into himself, kness pulled up to his chest. arms wrapped around his legs, his head buried in this arms. And he's shaking. Tremors are rocking his entire body. I've never, ever seen him look like a child before. Never, not once, not in all the time I've known him. But right now, he looks just like a little boy. Scared, Vulnerable. All alone. ... I touch his arms, so gently. I run my hand down his back, his shoulders. And then I dare to wrap myself around him until he slowly breaks apart, unfolding in front of me. He lifts his head. His eyes are red-rimmed and a startling, striking shade of green, shining with barely restrained emotion. His face is the picture of so much pain. I almost can't breathe. An earthquake hits my heart then, cracks it right down the middle. And It hink here, in him, there is more feeling then any one person should ever have to contain. I try to hold him closer but he wraps his arms around my hips instead, his head falling into my lap. I bend over him instinctively, shielding his body with my own. I press my cheek to his forehead. Press a kiss to his temple. And then he breaks. Shaking violently, shattering in my arms, a million gasping, choking pieces I'm trying so hard to hold together. And I promise myself then, in that moment that I will hold him forever, just like this, until all the pain and torture and suffering is gone, until he's given a chance to live the kind of life where no one can wound him this deeply ever again.

Years of practice have taught me to bury my emotions as a reflex - especially in his presence - and it takes a few seconds for the feelings to emerge. They form slowly, infinite hands reaching up from infinite graves to fan the ancient rage I've never really allowed myself to touch.

It’s the kind of kiss that inspires stars to climb into the sky and light up the world. The kind that takes forever and no time at all. His hands are holding my cheeks, and he pulls back just to look me in the eye and his chest is heaving and he says, “I think,” he says, “my heart is going to explode,” and I wish, more than ever, that I knew how to capture moments like these and revisit them forever. Because this. This is everything.

t’s a torrent of feeling, a simultaneous, ephemeral taste of death and bliss and my eyes close, white - hot heat flashes behind my eyelids and I have to fight the need to call out his name even as I feel us shatter together, destroyed and restored all at once and he gasps He says, “ Juliette —

I love you," I whisper. "I love you exactly as you are." Warner is looking at me like he might be going deaf and blind at the same time. "No," he gasps. One broken, broken word. Barely even a sound. He's shaking his head and he's looking away from me and his hand is caught in his hair, his body turned toward the table and he says "No. No, no-" "Aaron-" "No," he says, backing away. "No, you don't know what you're saying-" "I love you," I tell him again. "I love you and I want you and I wanted you then," I say to him, "I wanted you so much and I still want you, I want you right now-" Stop. Stop time. Stop the world. Stop everything for the moment he crosses the room and pulls me into his arms and pins me against the wall and I'm spinning and standing and not even breathing but I'm alive so alive so very very alive and he's kissing me.

I almost forget that she still hates me, despite how hard I’ve fallen for her. And I’ve fallen. So hard. I’ve hit the ground. Gone right through it. Never in my life have I felt this. Nothing like this. I’ve felt shame and cowardice, weakness and strength. I’ve known terror and indifference, self-hate and general disgust. I’ve seen things that cannot be unseen. And yet I’ve known nothing like this terrible, horrible, paralyzing feeling. I feel crippled. Desperate and out of control. And it keeps getting worse. Every day I feel sick. Empty and somehow aching. Love is a heartless bastard. I’m driving myself insane.

Juliette-Julietter, love, wake up-wake up" ... Warner's hands cup my face. The warmth of his skin helps calm me somehow, and I finally feel my heart rate begin to slow. "Look at me." he says. I force myself to meet his eyes, shaking as I catch my breath. "It's okay," he whispers, still holding my cheeks. "It was just a bad dream. Try closing your mouth," he says, "and breathing through your nose." He nods. "There you go. Easy. You're okay." His voice is so soft, so melodic, so inexplicably tender. ... "I won't let you go until you are ready," he tells me. "Don't worry take your time.