“I guess friends isn’t in the fucking cards for us, huh?” And I have to accept this. “Non, il te suffit de m’attendre,” Charlie says in a perfect French lilt. No, you just need to wait for me. “De quelle manière?” I breathe. In what way? “To be strong enough to be near you and not hate everything about you and me.” I’m fucking terrible at waiting around. Doing nothing. He knows this. You know this. But for Charlie, I’d try. If he needs me to be patient, I’ll do that a million times over. I nod strongly. “Okay.”
This made me cry 🥺
