[ He probably could have held it in and just cried himself out like he'd done the first couple of months after he lost his parents, putting on a smile in front of other people and not spending too much time talking about anything. It might've been weird here—he has friends here, in a surprising turn of events—and harder, but he...

...he couldn't have actually done it, he's realizing. There'd been a reason he'd been avoiding Yosuke all day, after all. And Cherryblod. And Sigrun. They're three people he knows he would've broken in front of, and that happened. Black sighs, sitting up just enough to slide his glasses of his face so he can set them aside. They'll need to be properly washed off at some point—tear residue does not come off easily, thank you salt—but right now isn't the time.

He knows he looks silly without them, especially since he has to squint, but it's better than trying to look at Yosuke through shitty stained glasses. ]

Thank you. I wouldn't have blamed you for leaving, but... [ A hard swallow; this is last night all over again, except worse. His fingers twitch between them, really wanting to hold something, before they just tighten in the sheets as a compromise. ] I'm really glad you didn't. It means a lot to me.

[ That feels so lame to say, and it's not even the half of it. ]

I wish I could make it up to you somehow. [ ...he still has alcohol, but is that a good idea. Is it. ] Any requests?