[ to think it was one thing— to hear it from his own mouth was a whole different ball park, one that made his stomach sink further down his belly and twist until he'd rather not even think of food until it's settled. his fingers fidget into his palm and cross between his other hand. "i'm sorry, man". heh, what kind of comfort would that bring? for now, he can only offer a nod, but his expression says more than needed: he doesn't feel like he should be thanked for bringing news like that all of a sudden. ]

I bet that usually gets people to just . . . Give up on everything. 'Cause it isn't worth it or something.

[ he laughs a little, attempting to lift their weight to higher ground, on a lighter notice at least. he wasn't going to leave and leave them both in that gloomy state. ]

It's so worth it that even I catch myself thinking that I don't even want to leave anymore. [ he's caught himself thinking it hundreds of times, and he has family back home. friends, school, a high school volleyball team and championships waiting for him. hell, maybe he could go pro one day, some would certainly say he has the libero caliber to do it. and here he was, sometimes wondering if he were to pay off his debt— could he stay a little longer? ] I dunno if that's selfish as hell or what.