"Why?" He lets himself be coddled because he's too weak to do anything else, but the question escapes him. For the first time he lets himself question what he hadn't before. Is he just a project? Someone to be fixed? Is that why Chris had accepted his confession and entertained being with him? Amelia, too, is that why she cares for him so, not because of who he is but simply because she's incapable of not reaching out in that way? And Morrigan... Hawke's too much for him he's sure. Too flighty, too unreliable. That must be why Morrigan wants to go so slowly; he never actually intends to be anything more, but he couldn't stand to break Hawke's heart when he'd cornered him like that.

So then why is Chris still here? Why is he wrapped around him as if he's something precious? The answer is easy, or it should be, especially given Chris' general impatience with anyone he doesn't deem worth his time, but it's...

It's hard. To be loved is hard. Harder than it should be, especially when he doesn't love himself. When all he sees is regrets and mistakes and messes other people pay for when they shouldn't. He buries himself further in Chris' shoulder, arms tight around him with fingers curled into the supple leather of the jacket he always wears. It smells like him.

"You shouldn't have to carry me." This isn't how it's supposed to go. His breaths still come stuttering and uneven, stilting words even further muffled against Chris' shoulder for Hawke's refusal to lift his head. "I don't want to be a burden. I'm supposed t-to stand on my own. To be an example, but I-"

The words stick in his throat.

I'm so tired...