To my surprise, he laughs. It sounds like a thousand cherry blossoms floating through the air in spring. Bringing his unwrapped hand to his forehead, he pushes his hair back. “I don’t hate you, hapa. I like you. In fact, I like you enough that it doesn’t matter if you don’t like me. And even though I’m really tired and in all honesty probably didn’t catch everything you said in your breakup speech”—I make a face at him, which only makes him laugh harder—“friends is fine.” He shrugs. Smiles. “I can do friends.”
That's a real man omg
