He doesn't want to look, to see what York thinks of him now. He's not sure if disgust or pity would be worse. He's a mess, he knows that. Can't forget it either, is the problem. It would be easier if he couldn't remember how every scar came to be.

There's a hitch of breath when York traces the back of his neck, his fingers warm and solid like he doesn't remember feeling in... far too long. And even if they aren't the last, if Carolina is out there, the two of them are too broken now to talk about shit like this. He wonders if she's as cut up as he is these days, or if she's just that much better.

The hug leaves him tense and taut for a moment, but then he relaxes inch by inch into it, lets York pull him back against his chest. "You- it's not your fault. It's theirs. It's mine for never being good enough and for never thinking there was more going on."