"I was in bed before I was here, dipshit." he commented, without really correcting Bill. He leaned a little closer without realizing he was doing it. It reminded him of times he only recently remembered, the two of them hunched together over comic books, discussing the merits of different heroes or their villains.
He sighed again and shrugged one shoulder. "I got out." he said quietly, hand on his glass but not moving it, "It's dead and I got out and that was supposed to make things alright again but..." he trailed off and shook his head, he didn't have the words but he was sure Bill would feel it. Guilt, self-loathing, loneliness. "They deserved it more."
There was more, that one more thing, but he still hadn't been able to say it out loud, not even to himself. Not yet.