Duck Lake we sang silent night in three parts, which was fun

And when he looks at her, all he wants is to go home, too. It'd be so easy, at least to make the decision, and for a moment he imagines what it might be like; to go home, to try to mend what he'd broken by leaving, find some sort of happiness among his friends — but it'd already been broken, hadn't it? Maybe everything he builds is destined to come into existence broken and malformed simply because he made it, because it's in his nature to bring destruction. He can't do that to Lily, or anyone — but especially not her, especially not when he can still look in her eyes and see a love he's so undeserving of, when he can stand here and admit that he's abandoned them all and still she tries —
Even if he has to stay away forever, he won't go back just to hurt his friends again. But it hurts too much to think of it that way, at least now, so he says: Maybe I will one day, And his voice is thick, betraying how close he is to tears now, and part of him knows it sounds like a load of shit but right now he means it. Maybe I'll — I'll figure out what the fuck is wrong with me and — He cuts himself off, swallowing. I'm sorry. I love you. The words slip from him like a painful exhale, and he doesn't expect her to believe him; how could she, when all he's ever been able to offer her is his mess, his chaos, his crisis? It's all he's ever had to offer — and now he's taken that away, too.