It's possible. [ He utters under his breath with the tone of a man who has long since accepted hating himself over something. The mention of paradise makes his whole body clench in a different way. Part of him feels so much warmth, so much goddamn love at that, and yet there's always that inkling of pain. The idea he'd taken Marc from the peace he finally deserved, trapped him back here in this aching body with him.

He'll never say that though. He's a coward. ] You always take care of me, Marc. [ It's a softer murmur as the tension bleeds out, as resignation begins sinking in. He can't look, even though Marc isn't there for him to see. It doesn't change the flush of embarrassment or the wall all of him feels so twisted up, afraid. He doesn't want to lose what they've got because he wants more. It's greedy and stupid, but he can't keep his mouth shut anyway. ]

I want to take care of you, I want to make you smile, I want to make everything so much less awful. [ His voice wavers, softens, the words are just above a whisper, muttered in an empty room. ] I want to touch you, I want to hear your breath stutter when I do. I know it's bloody mental, absolutely wrong, but I can't stop myself from thinking about it. I want all of you.

[ He wanted a painful amount of things that he knew he just couldn't have. ]