"What are you doing?"
I finally figured out percentages."
"We learnt those in the third grade."
"Yeah, but we always complained that we'd never use them in real life."
"And you know how to use them in real life now?"
"Eighty four percent."
"That's the percentage of how many basketball matches you lost to me when we were kids."
"That's not fair! You're taller than me!"
"Fifty two percent."
"Is that how much taller than me you are?"
"No. That's the percentage of times you speak out of turn and get into trouble for it."
"Twenty three percent."
"Let me guess, that's how much I annoy you?"
"That's the percentage of times your mother told you she loved you when you were a child instead of the amount she should have."
"Seventy nine percent."
"I don't think I like this game anymore."
"That's how much of your heart loved that guy who broke it so completely callously."
"Look, I'm serious. Stop."
"That's how sure you are that you will be able to love again."
"I'm not asking you for much, just stop this. I'm not joking anymore."
"Didn't I tell you to stop?!"
"That's how much you think there is left of you to love."
"That's how much every person took when you gave yourself away piece by piece to them. The mother who didn't love you. The father who didn't care. The boys who broke your heart. The girls who tell you you're ugly. The best friends who betrayed you."
"...I'll see you later."
"Thirty three percent. This is the most important one."
"Because no matter what I do, at least thirty three percent of me is always thinking about you."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that a hundred percent of me loves you. And whether you believe it or not...there is a hundred percent of you to love too."