[He'd take his hand in return, holding it tightly, tucking it in against the side of his hip; unfussy.

He got it. He understood the reasoning now.

But again; it didn't matter.

It didn't matter if he couldn't control himself. It didn't matter if he was now so much older that bearing a teenager was too ridiculous. It didn't matter if Mikey hated him sometimes.]

...Sorry you had to. But-- I ain't gonna leave you. I owe you that.

I love you; and if you didn't feel jack shit, you wouldn't be worried for me. So I gotta stick with you, and I gotta try.

And if you hurt me, fuck it. [A half-shrug of a shoulder.] I killed me first, heh. You ain't gonna do me worse.