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"I haven't hurt you yet." He murmured. And so far, Chance hadn't hurt him either. But it was a matter of time, he was sure. Why bother keeping on going if all he'd ever have in return was pain.

"No.." He answered hesitantly. But he was scared. Scared of people. Of everyone. Of messing up, of getting in too deep. Of drowning and never being able to find the surface again. And as far as Chance went, he'd felt he'd nearly gotten to a comfort level he'd seen in himself with Cami. And that would be bad. He didn't want to replace anyone, and he didn't want to become a man who relied on others to hide inside. To tell him he was just fine as he was. Tell him everything would be okay, and that he was making good choices, or that he was trying his best, and that would be enough.

Because those were all lies. Lies and fluffy fairy tales meant to keep him from facing the real monster inside; allowing him to never change. To never grow past anything. To continue on a path that would surely cause oblivious mayhem.

It was easy to fall into that trap because Otto loved to be coddled. Loved to be touched. He hated crowds, but he loved the one on one encounters he could sink into like a cozy bed. If only his walls were sturdy. If only he could keep them up to protect the storm inside, and simply enjoy pleasures on a surface level of intensity without causing his core to shake. To see and be with others, and never leave an impression on them. To be forgotten.

If only he could be forgotten. That might in fact be the best thing, rather than erasing himself. That way, only he would be hurt.

He was sick of it. Sick of worrying about pain and the like. If he could act without consequence and the aftermath of his choices. If he could live without messing everything up.

His head hurt. His stomach felt sick. The pressure of simply existing and worrying and over-thinking was bubbling and pushing at the weakened walls in his head.

"Whatever is wrong, it's on me. So don't worry about it."

"It ain't like I mean to do nuthin' bad." Otto clarified, "It just happens. N' you say you don't get hurt easy, but I'm sure that ain't true." Chance was human. Humans got hurt. Everyone got hurt. Maybe he just didn't recognize it for what it was.

He didn't want him to fix him. Mostly because he was sure it was impossible. And accepting help meant he was leaning on someone else again. He couldn't let himself do it. So it was fortunate Chance wasn't trying to do just that.

But he still felt heavy. Listless. Apathetic. Depressed, really. He didn't now what to do about it. Not at all. "That's nice of you." He muttered glumly, wishing his negativity wouldn't be so toxic, so pointy and sharp. He felt as if everything he felt would seep out through his body and into the gentle hand on his shoulder. That he would poison anyone who got too close. They were better off with nicer people than himself, even if he desperately wanted to be close to them himself.

Just go away, he thought. Why waste time on him? What good did he have to offer? All he did was take. Take. Take. If he was alone, he could let himself run dry, and that would be all he deserved. But he didn't want to be alone, no matter how much punishment he put himself through. So he didn't have the strength to tell Chance no. No, I don't need you. Go away and never come back. He couldn't do it. Even if Sasha herself were to walk through that door, he'd likely not turn her away in this moment, because he'd starved himself so terribly for human contact and warmth.

"Yeah you do. Just maybe not as loud as other people." Otto didn't buy it. Or maybe because he didn't want to believe Chance was less than human. It was just walls. He was positive. Stronger walls than Otto had, at least. Otto's walls were crumbling and weak.

Otto was beyond ******** up. If he was a car he'd be written off and chucked into a junk yard. Nothing was salvageable. But Chance wanted to stay. Why, he didn't know. It didn't make sense.

What did he want? He never knew the answer. Or when he did, he didn't want to admit it to himself. Not aloud and not even in his own private thoughts. Then again, his thoughts weren't private either. Tenya was there, and maybe part of that was why always felt watched. Judged.

"I dunno." He answered vaguely, not committing to anything. "Sleep for a thousand years?"

"I can't say." Otto murmured, beginning to curl his legs up to his chest, his feet on the edge of his seat. "Cuz stuff still holds me back, so I can't even be hypothetical about it. So it's just impossible."

Otto blinked slowly as he processed what Chance said.

"...yes?" He answered without certainty.

"I dunno.. If I knew a way around it.. but, I an't. Whenever I let myself forget about that stuff, I do something wrong." Always wrong, never right. Never ever right.

"No, I know. But.." He frowned, more so than he had been. "It doesn't matter if I ain't the only one. I mean... I don't wanna be alone, but when I keep screwin' up, so I just.. I cant.." <********. Don't cry. Put on the big boy pants and talk things out like a man for God's sake. But he was tired of being the bad guy. Of being the one that did everything wrong, even if he did it thinking he was doing right. For himself, for others? It didn't matter.

It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Fruitless, useless.. frustrated.

"But why?" He asked with an uneven tone. Why was he there? Surely because he was stuck with him on a stupidly long duty shift in a room under the ocean. He had no choice. Who would go back to him like this?

"Why do you like me?" He didn't want to know, but it slipped out anyway. Even if he couldn't ever explain why he liked his own friends. He just did. He liked some people, hated others. "All I ever wanna do anymore is just curl into a ball. I'm not happy. I ain't even fun. All I talk about is my own problems, and I complain and whine. So I just don't get it."