“To thank you for everything.” The way he says everything is like he really means every single thing. Tears sting my eyes instantly. “I should be thanking you,” I say. “For letting me crash here, for being so kind to me, for—” I almost say loving me before I catch myself. “For being such a good friend.” “Win, I don’t think you understand. I spent my birthday last year alone on my couch, drinking and miserable. I was so lonely. I felt like half a person. I—” He chokes up and clears his throat. “I felt hopeless.” He sniffles, and I fight the urge to pull away to look at his face. To wipe his
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