Blackfeather Woods thine azure sister of the spring shall blow

Somehow, Zephyr only seems to make things worse.
No —
His thoughts stutter and falter, and the icy mask melts away. All that's left is a fragile boy with far too many scars, wide-eyed, deer in the headlights. Stripped bare, raw red irritation on display. He feels exposed. Ugly. Unwanted.
He is suddenly so, so tired.
I don't know, He admits, voice breaking harshly. Pushing you away hurts. Being around you hurts. Everything hurts — all I wanted was to make that stop, but it's not going to, no matter what happens. The realization is a new one for him, a crushing epiphany mid-conversation. His ears flatten. Resigned, he continues. I want whatever you want. Whatever would make you happy. We'll do that. One of us should be happy with the outcome. And it's not going to be me.

That's always the way it goes.