He regretted his outburst the moment Percy got out of the bed. He was hurting, mostly inside, but also his entire body. Had he been a suicidal man, or even one prone to drama, he would have said that he could have solved the entire thing by choosing death over life. He was neither so he didn't say it, though the thought certainly crossed his mind if only for a fraction of a second.
'Whether you're right or wrong about Susan doesn't matter,' he said, though his voice no longer held any anger, just sorrow. 'I don't want more than friendship, and I don't love her. I won't love her. I most certainly won't be in a relationship with her because it's convenient.'
He flinched when Percy talked of his dick, as if the word itself had struck him. It was hard to keep reminding himself that Percy was angry, that surely he didn't mean to imply that he had never loved in return, because he had. Cass was sure of it. Almost sure of it.
'A better solution?' he asked. 'How about killing the son of the bitch and throwing Umbridge out on her arse? That to me sound like a far better solution than faking a relationship.'
He didn't have any fire to fight though, not even to try. He was tired, in pain, and he most of all wanted to curl up on himself and try to find a way to forget the pain. Only he couldn't curl up on himself because moving caused him pain, though he doubted it would be worse, especially as Percy went on, stressing how little he could trust him.
'I-' he sighed, his voice frail and tired when he spoke again. 'I don't know what to do here Percy. I don't know what you want from me. I know I was wrong. I know I betrayed your trust, but I never lied to you before this happened, and I will never lie to you again. I made a mistake, a terrible, horrible mistake that I would give almost anything to take back.' He wanted to say more, but he felt his voice crack, and to actually cry would be worse than just getting a few tears in his eyes. He blinked it away, leaving his eyes closed, waiting for Percy to talk, or come closer or simply leave. He didn't dare to move, was too tired and exhausted and drained to think of trying. For the outside onlooker he might as well have fallen back into the coma again for how still he was.