He mustered a smile at the suggestive tone but his heart wasn’t in it. If Ira looked calm, he certainly didn’t feel that way; heart still jangling, disconcertion buzzing through him like a fever. It was frustrating, because it wasn’t at all that Ira minded Staas’ breakdown or wanting to reassure him after it. And yeah, he knew, shit happened, even to his friends. But did really it have to happen in such fucking… extravagant quantities? It hurt just to sit through a conversational recollection of all that tragedy, and of course that was nothing compared to how painful actually going through it must have felt for Staas.
Ira didn’t dare pity him, though. It was a cheap emotion, considering how hard Staas had tried, and how much he and Carey had loved each other, and how much crap life had put them both through. And how Staas had worked through it all, had gone on with his life in spite of all the guilt and grief that he’d shouldered, and had come to a point where it seemed, at least to Ira, that things had more or less settled down to something peaceful and happy. That was a small, but bright consolation, and Ira seized the thought immediately, used it to push the sympathetic ache down to a place so that he could stay composed, stay supportive. This wasn’t about him, after all. Staas was moving around the kitchen, rambling somberly he went through the motions of brewing the tea, and Ira listened quietly until the man had wound himself to a pause. The damp patch on the front of his hoodie was cooling uncomfortably, and he plucked at it as he chose his words.
“Maybe. But that’s a lot of stuff. And almost all… seems things that you couldn’t do anything about, as much as I know you wanted to, wish you could’ve.” Ira tilted his head and shuffled his hands into his pocket, frowning at the floor. “…You tried anyways. You tried hard. And even if it couldn’t be exactly what he wanted, I think Carey understood that.” A glance back up at Staas. “And I know that you know this already, but. Some things, you just can’t change. It’s not your fault.”
Ira made a face, bit out a dull, ironic chuckle at just what he was saying. “You can’t help it if you’re heterosexual. It’s just who you are, right?”