Baze opens his mouth, but no words come out. He cries brokenly, silently, feeling a massive headache bloom behind his jammed-shut eyes. He wants to run. He knew he would hurt his friend, and now Baze has made it so much worse. Why does it have to be this way? Why can't things just go back to normal?

Why is he the way he is?

"I... wish I could love you, in the way you need," Baze says, his words choked. He doesn't even know why he's saying them at this point; he won't bring solace to either him or his friend with words, no matter how genuine, how sorry.

Sorry. What a useless word.

"But I don't love anyone like that. There's no one else. There never will be."