Mister Impossible (The Dreamer Trilogy #2)

Far back from the others, from the safety of where they’d watched this all unfold, Farooq-Lane turned to Liliana and said, “Those three could end the world.”

A young man stepped out. He had dark, buzzed hair and pale, chilly skin. His eyes were as blue as the sky above, though more suggestive of bad weather.

The young man was taking something from his jacket, a little glass bottle with a dropper top. He was uncapping it.

He was another one of them. Ronan Lynch.

He thought about wanting to feel like he had been made for something more than dying.

Soon there will be no place for the quiet things, the things that undo themselves when they have to shout. Soon there will be no place for secrets, the secrets that lose their mystery when they are uncovered. Soon there will be no place for the strange, no place for the unknown, because everything will be cataloged and paved and plugged in.

The handbook’s called Your Boyfriend Called, He Thinks You’ve Joined a Cult, Please Advise.”

He used to imagine that air was a hug that was always happening

This, Declan thought, was why those kids in the waffle line couldn’t truly be Adam’s bosom friends. Adam was reading intelligence documents about his boyfriend and they were googling celebrity chefs.

Golden Matthew, charming the city. Rebellious Ronan, finally grown into something useful. Cunning Declan, trafficking in art and stories. The Brothers Lynch.

The dreamers would’ve been visible on their perch if anyone had looked up, but no one in this town had looked up for decades.

Funny how a handful of people loving a song you couldn’t stand could make you feel inhuman