Fuck. "Don't," he says, sounding pleading and actually not hating himself for it. "Look, you just... just leave like this and that's one more thing that's fucked, and I really, really don't think I can take that right now, okay?" His teeth are set, every muscle is set, and he's wishing to God that his life had a rewind button.

"This isn't your fault. I swear to God, it isn't." The God he's not even sure he believes in, as of the last time they'd talked.