Broken Boulder cause I'm still breathing on my own

A heavy, painful lump formed in his throat when Lily did not respond with anger. That was what she was supposed to do. Suddenly he felt exposed and ugly; a strangely icy agitation was bubbling quickly within his chest. She had given him no justification, no reason to continue, but he still wanted to. His ire needed a target.
Not Lily, he tried to tell himself, unable to look at her even as she spoke tenderly, not anyone. Because ultimately, none of them deserved his anger— but especially not the dark girl who had tried so hard to be supportive. She was right anyway; it was stupid to look. Lennon had abandoned them, and the time to let go had already passed.
In his self-loathing, he dared not let himself think too hard on her assurance that he was special— that she, they loved him even now. Alarian knew he didn't deserve it; he had been too focused on the love he thought he deserved, needed— but it had been a lie, and he hadn't seen it until his lover was gone, and his promises with him. It had never been real, and still he chased it. He knew that he would not have stopped if he had only himself to sacrifice.
I'm sorry, The words came out choked. I shouldn't have— I'm sorry.
The Governor turned slowly back to his friend, hollow-eyed and raw deep in his chest. Tentative and gentle, he moved to press his face into her shoulder if she would allow it. It crossed his mind, then, that he didn't give his friend enough credit; he would have to change that, soon.