"I'm always hurt. And when I'm not, I find a way to - "

A jolt-stop like a heart leaping to their throat, and the snapping jaws of a trap closed tight. In front of him, it's always worse. It's not really a surprise anymore. He knows. They know he knows. But it still works its way up into their chest and squeezes, pairs with the tension of shoulders and the closure of throat. It's just another reminder that they can't really hide.

That nothing they do or say can be hidden.

"...I can't take any of it away. I can't make you stop knowing what you know. And I wish I could."

Doesn't that make them incredibly selfish? Isn't that just spitting in the face of the consequences they're supposed to know exist?

How are they supposed to allow for that?