[ Of course if Harold was asking in the first place he wouldn't let John get away with such a shallow answer. He looks at the eggs in the pan almost blindly, pushes them around in an automatic way. He know what he needs to say but it's terrifying. It's the truth again but it's going to scare Harold away. He's going to be left alone in his apartment with these pancakes and bacon and eggs. ]
I'm dead. And I don't know what to do. And— [ his throat closes up on the words but he forces them out anyways] I hurt you.
[ That last part matters. He has no clue what to do about it, but it matters so much to him. He's grappled with the image of Harold crying every day. It hurts to think about again and again. He did that. Even in the depths of his drunkenness, even in the moments he can't really remember, he was aware of how he hurt Harold, how he said the wrong thing, how alone he felt in his apartment. ]
no subject
I'm dead. And I don't know what to do. And— [ his throat closes up on the words but he forces them out anyways] I hurt you.
[ That last part matters. He has no clue what to do about it, but it matters so much to him. He's grappled with the image of Harold crying every day. It hurts to think about again and again. He did that. Even in the depths of his drunkenness, even in the moments he can't really remember, he was aware of how he hurt Harold, how he said the wrong thing, how alone he felt in his apartment. ]