“But I still want it to be something,” Harrison says. A single tear trails down his cheek. “That’s stupid, isn’t it? And now it’s too late to do anything about it.”

Cary buries his head in his hands. No one does or says anything for a long time and then Grace scoots over to Harrison. Her nose and cheeks are a warm red from the whiskey. She wraps an arm around him and he starts to cry in earnest.

“Don’t cry,” she says. “You have a lot of time.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“No—”

“Yeah! Yeah, you do. It’s okay. Look—”

She does something that is amazingly selfless and also gross. She tilts Harrison’s face up and gives him a sweet kiss on the lips and it lasts long enough for him to taste her back, to move his mouth against hers. Trace regards her proudly and when it’s over, Harrison stares at her dumbfounded but he’s stopped crying.

She is so nice.

Cary makes a disgusted noise and struggles to his feet. “Well, this was fun until Harrison started crying, but hey. That’s what he does, right? Thanks, Harrison.”

This brings Harrison back. “I didn’t—”

“Yeah, you did.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Trace asks. “Let the kid cry if he needs to.”

“That’s all we let Harrison do! I don’t want to dwell.” Cary rubs his eyes. “I’m tired of dwelling. I just wanted to get totally wasted and—”

“You’re there,” Rhys tells him.

“It was just sharing,” I say. “That’s all he did.”

“Yeah, but not—” Cary gestures to Harrison. It throws him off balance. He sways precariously for a second before steadying himself. “Not that. We didn’t need to hear it. I didn’t want to hear it. It’s fucking pathetic…”

“I’m sorry,” Harrison says. “I didn’t mean to—”

“He can fucking dwell if he wants to,” Trace says. “I never see you dwell.”

“Oh, let me guess,” Cary replies. “The next words out of your mouth are going to be something about your dead parents that I killed because I’m a murderer.”

“Yeah, something like that. Exactly like that actually.”

They stare at each other. I watch Trace. He holds Cary’s gaze, unblinking. Cary caves first and he does it in a way I don’t expect, that I don’t think any of us expect. He curls his hand into a fist and presses it against his forehead.

“You think I wanted this,” he says.

“Cary,” Grace starts. “Don’t do this—”

“But you must. You think I wanted it,” he says. “You actually think I wanted to be left with you guys, without them.” He laughs. “You think I wanted that? Really?” He takes a step back. “I didn’t. I loved the idea of—I loved the idea of them.” He lowers his hand. “It shouldn’t have been them. It should have been—”

He stares at us, lost, and I keep waiting for him to finish even though I know he’s never going to finish. It should’ve been me. Cary changes for me in that instant. From the boy who is crazy good at survival stuff to the boy who thinks he should be dead.