Broken Boulder she's got silver bullets on her tongue

Oh, he liked her— or he might have, were things different. He took some solace in her words, in the attempted conviction she held, even with the knowledge that she knew not even a fraction of his troubles. Perhaps she could guess some, as he knew she had her own burdens, but no expression or behavior or gesture he might show could truly tell what sorrows he carried with him. Alarian often thought of his entire existence as rather unfortunate. There... weren't really any better words.
Nonetheless, her attempt at confidence was almost infectious. He nodded slowly, and was silent for a time, contemplating what she'd said. The words that had escaped him earlier found him now.
I am sorry— for what I did, and for the things I said. I wasn't before, honestly, but I was upset. It... hurt to realize Aditya cared so little that he'd tell you who... knowing the possible consequences. I shouldn't have taken it out on you, He swallowed hard, and with a very anxious grin tacked on possibly the worst joke ever: Honestly, I'm starting to wish I'd been your rebound fuck, instead.
He only dared to say it because of the ridiculousness of the notion, and his tone implied as much. Still: I'm kidding— and gay, in case you couldn't uh, tell. It felt weird to leave it there, with no explanation. It's just— one moment he was crying, the next he was— you know— and then he just... ran off. And then he apologized, and acted like he cared— but then he told you.
He shook his head slightly. I don't want him, at this point— I didn't before, either. I just... thought I did for a little bit, because I guess I thought he wanted me. Or cared, or something dumb like that. He doesn't. I— I pushed someone away who maybe does care, the day after we— this is a mess, Dawn, and I had enough mess already. I'm sorry I made things worse. I just want to put this behind us and— ideally, never see Aditya again.