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“Davey – Day, c'mon, y’ain’t makin’ any sense…” Jack says gently, rubbing his hand across Davey’s shoulders. “I mean, d’ya just not like her? ‘Cause there ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, sometimes a girl just ain’t the one-”
“But she was.” Davey insists, and he feels all the more like a child for it. “She – she was smart, a-and funny, and beautiful, and if there was ever a girl I could’ve liked, could’ve – could’ve been with, it’d be her, b-but I… I just…”
He takes a painful breath, his voice crushed - like shards of glass - into his throat.
“Jackie, I don’t…” He whispers as hot tears scald his cheeks. “I think there’s something wrong with me?”
His voice pitches up at the end like a question – but he knows the moment the words are said, the moment the thought is finally pitched into existence, that it’s not. There’s something wrong with him. He knows it. He knows it. And now Jack does, too.