"No, wait--" Christ, can't do anything without putting his foot in it. He reaches out again, somewhere between trying to pull him back in and just touch him, make it clear that the problem hadn't been with him.

"It's... fuck, look, it's my fault. It's not you." He's about a foot away from laughing, because sometimes that's all there is to do. If this is another thing ruined he might just go into the fucking jungle and come back in a year or so.

"I promised him." He pulls the tags out of his shirt and holds them up on his thumb, like they explain something. "I promised him and I have to keep it."