His bones crack as Alex squeezes him, and the sensation's pleasant. It's so fucking pleasant that Neil might cry.

He doesn't. Of course, he doesn't. Alex says he loves Neil, and Neil cannot process the affection. He's struggling through sorting out the emotions being confessed; maybe he should sort them out aloud. "I didn't do anything to you," he states simply, quietly.

"I didn't fuck over your plans. Fuck over your future." He breathes in Alex's scent and thinks of arid desert and dancing lights. His voice loses its emotion, becoming dead. "I didn't take away the love of your life. It's easy--"

A pause. "Easy to say I'm worth anything without that."