He shakes his head, oddly torn between the desire to insist that he's fine, and the want for company. Which is strane-- he doesn't even really want the company. He just wants--
Who the hell knows? If he knew, really, what's wrong with him, that'd be a big step toward fixing it.
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Who the hell knows? If he knew, really, what's wrong with him, that'd be a big step toward fixing it.
"I don't know," he admits. Maybe it would help.