Stop saying you love me! [ He's not sure what he feels. Almost... jealous? Jealous that he can't say that so easy, that he can't even form those thoughts properly. There's a voice right on the tip of his tongue, words ready to pour out that he doesn't love him, and never will. The opposite of the truth, of course.

He sits up straight in the bed, slouching forward a little. But in all of it, he's still holding his hand. ]

I don't deserve that. You're too fucking good, you know. This little angel. [ didn't he call him that before? Maybe that means something. ]

I'm sorry [ he says then, trying to compose himself a little ]I don't know why I do this. Like I'm constantly trying to sabotage anything fucking good.