ofdyiing:

 

          “quite a few more times than you have already.” mumbled, but
           admitted. the dying boy just clings to him a little tighter, breath
           still that raw sort of uneven that sort of hurts his throat. he’s 
           quiet for so long matthew isn’t even sure if he’s still paying attention,
           a thick swallow. he’d mess this up, it wasn’t hard to predict, it 
           was glaringly obvious. he hated it, but the truth was right there in
           front of both of them. a small nod, and he doesn’t feel that weird sort
           of drunk anymore, just… a numbness that digs into his bones, makes
           him feel brittle instead of weak. “i’m sorry ——”

           ❛  stop saying you’re sorry when you have nothing to apologise
             for. ’s dumb. you didn’t – … you didn’t ask for this. it’s not your
               fault.  ❜  he assured him, or at least tried to, anyway. he’s not
             exactly the biggest fan of apologies – probably due to the fact
             that he’d never actually given a valid one himself but now it was
              more towards the male standing in front of him. he didn’t need
             to apologise to him, or to anyone really – it wasn’t like he asked
             for it, did he ? he’d like to believe it’s so, anyway but it’s not like
              it even matters. even how much he tries, he can’t fix it.  ❛  d'you
              need anything ? like water to help you sober up or d'you want to
                    just – …  ❜  he gestured to the empty bottles behind him.
                                       that, actually, wasn’t a bad idea.