[Paul doesn't know what he's said, but he hears what Johnny does, and it wrenches a stutter into his next sob. It's pathetic, like the way he tries to pull himself up on the cot to sit and only half-makes it before he tips, unbalanced, back against Johnny.
He doesn't deserve this. He can't let it go. He's heartsick, hemorrhagic, and it's the first time since the ship the world has held steady around him, huddled in the shelter of his sensei's arms.
He doesn't try to stop. They're quiet tears, the kind that won't wake anyone as long as he stays where he is. The first wave is the worst of it, juddering like a ship bucking its steerer, before it breaks into torn little tremors.]
Sensei. [He chokes, when he can.] Sensei, I fucked up.
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He doesn't deserve this. He can't let it go. He's heartsick, hemorrhagic, and it's the first time since the ship the world has held steady around him, huddled in the shelter of his sensei's arms.
He doesn't try to stop. They're quiet tears, the kind that won't wake anyone as long as he stays where he is. The first wave is the worst of it, juddering like a ship bucking its steerer, before it breaks into torn little tremors.]
Sensei. [He chokes, when he can.] Sensei, I fucked up.