He can't speak. He doesn't try. He holds onto Neil's hand and just... lets himself be. Feels his lungs expanding and contracting, feels the blood pounding gently between his ears. This isn't the whole thing. Nothing's fixed.

But everything feels closer to that than it has since he opened his eyes on that fucking train.

"I got no fucking idea if I'm good for you," he says finally, slowly. "I feel like I'm probably not. But I wanna try. I can't be him--or the way I was then. Whatever. But I could try."