Dennis had just shared more with this guy then anyone in his life since Colin passed, but there was no way he was going home with him. He pushed his chair back, he'd get up in a minute. As soon as his stomach stopped churning. "No. I gotta' go anyway."
He gripped the edges of the table tightly, "You should go home. To your ... to your Taff. And you should tell him how important he is, you know? I mean, he probably knows but... little brothers, they don't mind being reminded?" He glanced up at Tristan and then away.
It occurred to him that as alike he thought Tristan and Taff were to he and Colin, they couldn't really be.
For one thing Tristan was still alive and Colin was dead. For another, Tristan was... he was just... different. Very different. He looked like someone who, while having a hard time financially, probably didn't have a hard time socially. He probably didn't know what it was like to be picked on, like Colin had been. Or what it was like to be small and mousey and push-aroundable. So as close as they were, they probably still didn't understand.