[While he's in a way grateful for the memory she trusted him with, it almost feels too intimate in a way. Like he's being a creep in someone's personal past—someone he cares so greatly for. With the reality of being here with her taking over, he's keen to focus his attention on that—on her.

Especially when she's coming over to him to fret over his stupid decisions. Feeling her again, being this close... it warms him in a way he hasn't felt this past week—in a way that only she seems capable of.]

I can take care of myself. [he says, rather dismissively, despite the evidence on his face that he clearly can't... When she touches the side of his face, he lets out a hiss, and he visibly winces. He looks away from her, clear shame in expression.]

I got into a couple fights, nothin' big. Nothin' to worry about. It was stupid.

[It was because he was upset, and he didn't know what to do with himself. But he doesn't want this, he doesn't want her to just turn this into fretting about him.

Stubbornly, he looks back at her, brow furrowing.]

It doesn't matter—what matters is you.