[ There's a strange property, with hope. You can think you didn't have any at all, until you feel it get snuffed out. Then you realize that you had some, this whole time. That you'd been holding onto it so tight, so desperately, that you didn't even know it was hope. It was just a clenched tangle somewhere in your chest.

But that tangle suddenly grew a lot heavier, dragging his heart right through him and down into the floor.

He wouldn't have kept any hope at all, if he could have helped it. He wishes he hadn't kept any.

Then he wouldn't have to feel it's loss.

He gets a little still- too aware of his limbs, again - and his face falls a little but not anywhere near as much as his heart does. Instead, his expression is mostly sympathetic. Because he loves Gunny. He might not know what exactly being in love feels like, and he might not quite understand what tangled mess of feelings he has for her, but aside from that, he knows he loves her. Like he loves Holden and Naomi and Amos. Quite separately from everything else, he knows that. So even as that wisp of hope he hadn't even known was there withered and died, he was overcome with the need to protect her. To save his family.

Even if he had to save it from himself. ]

It's alright. [ It's quiet, and comforting. It's not a lie. His heart break just doesn't matter, on the large scale of things. ] Hell, Gunny, we were so out of it we were basically intoxicated. Worse than. Everything felt a hundred million times bigger than it was. 'Course you're confused.

An' that's fine. I ain't looking for anything, Bobbie. [ His eyes were on hers, a silent plea in them. Please let him fix this. ] At least not anythin' different than what we already had.

You don't need to know what you're thinkin'. You don't need to think about it at all.