He wiped his face on the blanket again, aware of how pitiful he looked and hating it.
"But I.. I don't wanna be America, I wanna be me, just... enough for him, somehow." The thought sent a fresh wave of sobbing through him that he stifled almost successfully with the blanket. He dig his nails into his palms and took several short breaths. He felt helpless, as though futility lived on the backs of his eyelids.
"I don't know what to do - I d-don't think I can win." The idea of being America was almost silly, like he should wear a red wig and call Jan horrible names. Melvin's hand on his back made him jump, just a little. He was silent for a moment after the suggestion.
"I... w-wouldn't mind you asking. I'd like to know... Just don't-" He hated saying this, it felt almost like betraying Jan. But he didn't want Melvin to get hurt; he didn't want... It was awful, and selfish, and not something he even wanted to admit to himself, but he didn't want anyone else to be hurt like that because that would mean Jan had been
affected by them. As though it were some sort of popularity contest. He blanched, startled by his own thoughts, although he couldn't deny them. He caught one of Melvin's hands in his, looking up at the other man with a puffy face and wet eyes.
"Melvin, just d-don't make him angry, okay? Please." 
Reply
