"Yeah, I've thought about it," he says quietly. "But not a lot. I thought about it when he told me. I've thought about it for maybe ten seconds since then." He shakes his head slowly, wondering for about the millionth time why things have to be so hard. "Don't think like that. You'll drive yourself fucking insane. That's why I haven't thought about it that much. You think we're a symptom of what happened to him? So what if we are? Why should that matter? Does it mean we love him any less?"

He stares up at Tom, willing him to understand. Begging him. "He's not a little kid anymore, Hobbes. He chose this. He chose us."