He's still got his face pressed against Ned's shoulder, but at least he's not close to tears anymore. That's a step in the right direction. That's something he can consider to be a positive thing about this whole incident, right? Ned's here, and talking to him, and it's actually working. There's no way he's pulling away from Ned's embrace yet, not until he feels even better still. It's clingy, and he knows it, but he doesn't much care.
What Ned says, though, has him frowning, because although it can be a good thing, sometimes, to know that someone else out there feels the same way as you do, understands and can comprehend it, he doesn't want Ned to feel that way. He's already seen, of course, that Ned has a great deal of hurt and pain surrounding his childhood, but the fact that Ned recognizes how much this hurts, from a personal level, makes him feel very, very sad.
"You're the last person I'd ever want to feel that way," he says, voice very determined, and a little too loud, although he'd meant it to come out sounding a bit softer, a bit more sensitive. "I mean, I don't think anyone should have to feel that way, but you, especially, you should be happy. And me, y'know, I go from overjoyed to miserable to gleeful to despairing and back again in the space of about an hour, which you've probably noticed, so I'm not sure happy is my goal so much as just... normal. Normal would be a good start. I appreciate you trying to tell me I'm not a waste of time, because that's sweet of you, because you're a sweet guy, but if you feel that way too, if you know how I feel, how do you deal with it? I mean, how do you walk around every day, looking at people and talking to people and pretending that everything's... normal? I keep feeling like one of these days someone is going to find out everything about me and it'll be like they're gleefully tearing open the package on a present to reveal what's inside of me, except the present is a huge disappointment and terrifying. And people do find things out. They just do. Or I tell them. Like I told you."
He's never been good at seeming normal. Not even as a kid. Even less so now.
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What Ned says, though, has him frowning, because although it can be a good thing, sometimes, to know that someone else out there feels the same way as you do, understands and can comprehend it, he doesn't want Ned to feel that way. He's already seen, of course, that Ned has a great deal of hurt and pain surrounding his childhood, but the fact that Ned recognizes how much this hurts, from a personal level, makes him feel very, very sad.
"You're the last person I'd ever want to feel that way," he says, voice very determined, and a little too loud, although he'd meant it to come out sounding a bit softer, a bit more sensitive. "I mean, I don't think anyone should have to feel that way, but you, especially, you should be happy. And me, y'know, I go from overjoyed to miserable to gleeful to despairing and back again in the space of about an hour, which you've probably noticed, so I'm not sure happy is my goal so much as just... normal. Normal would be a good start. I appreciate you trying to tell me I'm not a waste of time, because that's sweet of you, because you're a sweet guy, but if you feel that way too, if you know how I feel, how do you deal with it? I mean, how do you walk around every day, looking at people and talking to people and pretending that everything's... normal? I keep feeling like one of these days someone is going to find out everything about me and it'll be like they're gleefully tearing open the package on a present to reveal what's inside of me, except the present is a huge disappointment and terrifying. And people do find things out. They just do. Or I tell them. Like I told you."
He's never been good at seeming normal. Not even as a kid. Even less so now.