"And no matter what I say now to continue trying to explain myself, it will come off as self-centered and arrogant. So, what do you expect me to say even if I were inclined to keep talking? I keep telling you I don't know what I'm doing, but you seem to think I should just know how to be the better man. I don't talk about me, I'm too closed off. I talk about me, I don't care about anyone else. I ask you to talk about you and you blow me off with bullshit about not having problems."
Sighing in defeat, he moved to sit on the bed, still holding the sleeping bag as if it would protect him. "I can't win with you and I don't know how to explain now without further lowering your opinion of me. But, did it ever cross your mind that I don't know how to deal with someone like you? That I don't know how to show that I care?" More than he should. "I can only change my behavior so much so fast, Travis. If I didn't care, I wouldn't talk about me. I wouldn't let you in. Asking about you doesn't come naturally to me, not because I don't care but because I'm used to dealing with people who take that kind of interest as something to be guarded against.
"I'd rather talk with you than argue, especially when I know you're in pain. But, I know that I'm ass when I feel defensive and I don't want things between us to become as argumentative as my family because constantly arguing isn't caring, it's just trying to prove a point. So, I leave to give us both time to cool off because I'm afraid of saying something I'll regret, something that pushes too much and destroys something I'm still trying to understand, but that already means a good deal to me. And, yeah, part of me is running away from you because I don't know how to care and I'm scared to death of fucking this up and hurting you and I'm scared of being hurt again and I don't know how to talk to you."
He was rambling now and he knew it. But, he didn't know what to say or do or whether he was supposed to do anything at all. Finally he just stopped speaking and sat there, clueless.