[So all right, maybe he's self-deprecating on instinct before he can help it, a weak kind of sound leaving him in something like- disbelief? He won't ask "why" again like before (he knows now, doesn't he?), but it almost feels like he should wonder more about it. Why think that about someone like him at all? At the same time, Art realizes that he wants him to go on thinking of him as enough anyway. As long as possible. He squeezes his hand lightly.]
I wonder... would it have been?
[Was it really enough as they were before? And, more than you could have asked for? His shoulders drop a little, shaking his head, breathing out. Maybe he sounds a little teasing, while he's finishing off the last chocolate he still had in his other hand, and tucking the napkin into his pocket neatly to avoid leaving a mess just wherever.]
I think that was your first mistake. You... [His look turns into a sidelong, head-tilted smile, fond and meaningful in only one way like he won't leave the words to imply anything else. (Privately he thinks also just not only from him, from anyone better you wanted, that you should always--)] You could have asked for more.