[Two can play at this game of not knowing what to say, apparently. He types out a response and stares at it for a minute—it seems too formal, lacking the intimacy and honesty the situation seems to call for. But ultimately, it’s what he has for now. He can work on carving his way back to authenticity little by little as they go. He hits send.]
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You weren't a witness.
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Is there?]
I thought
[His brain is working hard to rewind and recontextualise everything. Something about that process is making his face feel very hot.]
Didn't we have some discussion along the lines of you giving up control in ways that won't hurt you?
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If I had been honest, you would have laughed at best and rejected me at worst.
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You could have told me.
Though, I suppose it’s no matter. I treated you exactly as I would have, had I known.
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I always wanted you, you know.
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Where do you suppose we begin?
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How about a date?
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It would be my pleasure.
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