Edwin nodded a little at what Dylan had to say, again kind of playing catch-up in his head when he got lost in his own thoughts. Despite everything, he breathed a small laugh at manifest destiny, then rubbed his face, trying to dry it off, just for fresh wet tracks to take the old ones' places. He didn't believe that Oliver would be back tomorrow. He wanted him to be, but it was just as likely in his mind that Oliver was back at his home, free and fine. There was no chance.
"You're really nice," he croaked after a minute. He rubbed his face again, pointlessly. "I don't... I don't know what to do. He's... Fuck. He was being so protective of me, and just... You know, I don't even know what to say. He's just supposed to be here. That's it." He wiped his face again. He imagined that his eyes were all puffy and red at this point, and he knew he needed a tissue, but hadn't cared enough to mention it. "And you're here and you don't even know me, and you don't know the guy I'm crying about... I feel terrible. I really hate this."