Kavinsky rubbed at the back of his neck, flush and miserable for a second, trying to not let the sudden burn in his eyes spill over. How stupid. He grabbed the threads of all those sudden, overwhelming things and dragged them back, tied them down before he could float away.

He wasn't fucked up enough for this. He should have gotten high before he came.

He breathed a laugh. "I don't know what to do here, man," he breathed. "Uh. Like, I don't know how I work this out--and I know, I know, I've gotta be the one putting that effort in right now, because I was the one that fucked it up, so just. Tell me what I do to make this...better, I guess. To make this manageable."