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If anything, this made Roho slump all the more. Instead of feeling better that he wasn't the only one who lost friends, it made him even sadder that Habu had been through the same - apparently went through it often. Roho had people he considered friends, but apparently like Habu, they never seemed to stick around. They never visited to ask how he was or just say hi, and he could never find them when he looked. But Azima had been different. Time and time again, he'd journeyed from another pride to see Roho. It made the big male happy just thinking about it. And depressed to remember he'd lost it.

"You too, huh?" he repled glumly. "I lost a best friend. I've never had a friend like him before... and I ruined it."

Roho pulled a smile onto his face at Habu's description of his mother. He couldn't help but notice the present tense. It meant she was alive. He could only assume it was nice for Habu to still have his mother with him. Roho had never been without love or care while being raised by his father, and he loved Mahiri dearly, but he had often wondered what it would be like to have Bakhti back with them. He would have liked to have gotten to know her properly.

"Sometimes... I wish I didn't look so much like my mother. It's only our eye colours that are different, you see. She had beautiful blue eyes; I have my father's eyes. But I know that looking at me is sometimes very hard for him, even though he doesn't ever say anything. And my brothers and sisters, especially the older ones, also remember what she looked like." He sighed softly. "I'm sure it hurts them to be forced to remember her every time they see me... I wish I could stop them hurting."

Roho closed his eyes in the face of Habu's optimism. He knew he'd done more than ruin his friendship; he'd hurt Azima, badly, and he couldn't see any way to make it right. He didn't know how he felt, had never cared to analyse his emotions that deeply, and he was afraid to start now in case he really... didn't feel anything, and Azima truly was lost to him forever. He knew Azima wouldn't be able to be friends with him, not after the confession he'd made.

He shook his head slowly as he spoke. "He's in love with me. I don't - I don't know what to do."

And yet again, he was resistant to Habu's more positive way of looking at things. He was quite far down into his misery by this point, and showed no intention or perking up on his own without major intervention. It was just so easy to blame himself for the things that had happened in his life.

"None of them look drastically similar to me," he mumbled. "Same fur colour, perhaps, but that's as far as it goes. None of them look as much like her as I do. It's only my eyes that are different from her," he repeated, as though the weight of it would get across this time.