[ for a long moment, he doesn't say anything.

it's like an increasing pressure in his chest, something that crawls up into his throat to suffocate him. but it's worse than that because he doesn't need to breathe, the discomfort pushing him to clench his jaw before he puts his phone down. he doesn't want to crush it and doesn't want to hang up on him. if all he's become is some unfeeling monster, then why does this bother him so much? ]

It's not like that. [ i'm not like that. ] But I don't think you realize how much it means for me to just... leave, either. It's not as if I haven't thought about it. I have. [ but then, if he did, he'd be giving up the very thing that drives him in this undead life of his. ] So you want my opinion? I don't want to go north because that's where I'm from. I could show you things about me no one else has ever known. And it's the opposite reason I'd rather not go south. Maybe I don't care because I really don't. Whatever you want, I'll do.

[ he reaches for his phone again and looks at him. ]

Never mistake the things I say for apathy. Not between us.