Oliver's eyes followed Edwin's movements, then shifted himself a little so Edwin fit better against him. When they resettled, he sighed, liking this position a lot better.
"You're the one that got hurt. This isn't..." he started to point out quietly, closing his eyes again and just soaking in Edwin's warmth. He wished he hadn't said anything, mostly because it felt wrong to make even part of this about himself, or something that had happened before Edwin had even been alive. "I don't know how to make that stop, but it's there. I don't want you to feel like-" He wasn't even sure how he wanted to end that. "If I'm off, or...I say somethin' wrong, or do somethin', I don't want you to think that it's you. I'm just...not...okay, either."
He inhaled long, and exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "And you're not expendable. I know you only meant to Them, but I hate that you feel that way. When...you said all that stuff about dyin' here...you just meant...you feel resigned right? Not....that you're thinkin' about givin' up?" It was an almost terrifying clarification to ask for, and even asking suddenly made him feel so ashamed that his eyes filled. He kept telling himself that of course Edwin wouldn't consider the latter, but things felt so raw, the hope so deflated, that it was better to know the score.