[Several moments of silence follow her admission, weighted. It is, in part, what part of him wants to hear— that perhaps things could be different, that she recognizes it may not have to be this way, but in truth, he does not believe he deserves anything more than he has already received. Likely, he deserves far worse, and he gives a small shake of his head, his eyelids lowering as he averts his gaze.]

I cannot ever ask your forgiveness, nor do I expect it. It is more than I could ever deserve.

[There's a faint strain to his voice; he believes that with every fiber of his being, even coming from a not-so-distant future where they have begun to build a new friendship between the two of them.

He had not deserved it then, either.]

If a time ever comes that you find you can believe, I hope it will be because I have proven myself through deed— but I know that it is too much to ask of you now, perhaps ever, and I do not have the right.

[He exhales steadily, glancing towards her once more. The alcohol, perhaps, is keeping him from filtering himself as well as he ought, but has never been terribly shy about airing his feelings, whether others care to hear them or not.]

However you see me, I can bear it. I would bear anything for you.