"We don't get to choose happy," James says, and I know now that he isn't lying. That he's talking to me in a way he won't talk to anyone else, not ever. Because James and I speak the same language. He has lived a lie with every move and every choice and even every thought and emotion for years now. "You and me. I wish we could choose happy. I wish I could let you go. But I need you. Please don't walk away."

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