[The shame is still there even as Charles rallies against it, greasy and sick in his stomach, and Junpei does his level best to keep it down. He's pulled against Charles' chest before he can respond adequately to his crying again, and that's a different heavy feeling in itself; at this rate he's going to actually sink through the mattress and hit the floor.

But he can agree with the first sentiment, that everything sucks and no one cares when good people die, so,] I almost get it— the whole... crazy obsession with time travel. It sounds good, right? And then you think about it...

[And then it never stops, or those what ifs latch on and don't let go, and people start making worse and worse decisions about it. He reaches up to wipe a thumb over Charles' cheek once more.

I'm glad you did make it through, sweet words for a sweet idea, and Junpei still wonders—did he? He's not really okay, is he, how okay does he have to be to have made it through anything intact—]

I really love you, you know, [he says, because agreeing with the rest of what Charles says feels like lying; the shame is still there. Maybe eventually, but for now at least his gratitude is genuine. It's part shame and part desire to prove that he does take care of himself a little that makes him say,] I don't drink alone anymore, so...

Well, yeah. Ask another?