"God, I miss you so much," he lets himself mutter, after a while, quiet only because his throat's kind of raw, his eyes sting like a motherfucker. He forgot what it was like to cry like this, how weak you feel admitting all that shit, even to yourself, like when it all came out maybe it took something else with it. "I miss talking - just talking about stupid shit. Shootin' the shit with someone you only known for five minutes, some guy who'd sell you out for a box of twinkies, it ain't the same. And these books, some a' the books I been readin', I bet you'd have somethin' to say about them. I bet you would."
He sniffs, not that it'll do any good, he's leaking from everywhere, 'cept the places that are crusted over. "You might, uh." He swallows, hard. This next part makes his eyes sting a little harder, and maybe leak a little more, but like he said a second ago - who can tell? But it's the truth, and this one time, if this is the closest he's gonna' get, he's going to tell the truth. "Prob'ly tell me to fuck off or laugh in my face or somethin', if I asked- you know, if, if I asked- But you wouldn't sell me out."
His breath starts coming big and heavy and he knows what that means, so he stops to take a cry-break for a minute, because by now he's kind of used to the idea that he's going to be standing here blubbering like a baby when they come for him, kind of resigned to it.
"I've got that much. Shit, I've got that much, anyway, you bastard. That's the only thing I've got. Tried to make somethin' of, of myself for you, for you and dad, you know, I, I- I tried. Can't come to you with nothin'. Can you see it, si-sixer? Somethin' like me crawlin' up to your doorstep, askin' for- Jeez, I don't, I-I don't, let's go back to that other stuff, huh? I always liked that part. Think you could, could do that? Think of it as a, um. One a' those last request things. Let's just pretend I, I didn't cry I just, I just told you everything and, and you cried on me a little and you, and you asked me- Fuck, I'd. I'd like that. Always liked that part."
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He sniffs, not that it'll do any good, he's leaking from everywhere, 'cept the places that are crusted over. "You might, uh." He swallows, hard. This next part makes his eyes sting a little harder, and maybe leak a little more, but like he said a second ago - who can tell? But it's the truth, and this one time, if this is the closest he's gonna' get, he's going to tell the truth. "Prob'ly tell me to fuck off or laugh in my face or somethin', if I asked- you know, if, if I asked- But you wouldn't sell me out."
His breath starts coming big and heavy and he knows what that means, so he stops to take a cry-break for a minute, because by now he's kind of used to the idea that he's going to be standing here blubbering like a baby when they come for him, kind of resigned to it.
"I've got that much. Shit, I've got that much, anyway, you bastard. That's the only thing I've got. Tried to make somethin' of, of myself for you, for you and dad, you know, I, I- I tried. Can't come to you with nothin'. Can you see it, si-sixer? Somethin' like me crawlin' up to your doorstep, askin' for- Jeez, I don't, I-I don't, let's go back to that other stuff, huh? I always liked that part. Think you could, could do that? Think of it as a, um. One a' those last request things. Let's just pretend I, I didn't cry I just, I just told you everything and, and you cried on me a little and you, and you asked me- Fuck, I'd. I'd like that. Always liked that part."