"I can't say that I have. My mother never really cared what I did, so when I started drinking, she made sure that I tasted the good wine and champagne to go with the beer. I was drinking whiskey before I was sixteen," he said with a shrug.
"I'm not hungry, which is always good. I guess the bus isn't pissed enough not to feed me, or maybe it figures that if I'm hungry enough, sooner or later, I won't be able to help myself." He didn't want to hurt anyone, but he knew that starvation would bring out his violent side.
"Other than that, I'm ... confused," he admitted. "I know I love Peter. We shared something special. I don't mean here, but even before. We could share dreams while we slept," he added, because that sounded like they shared a vision of the future otherwise. "I was sure that we were soulmates and I could never love anyone else." He rested his head against his hand. "Except I did, and love... love is complicated and messy and I don't know how everyone else is doing, but it can't be forgotten. I know what I felt for you and while it was sudden and over the top, there's still something."