That was an acceptable level of sympathy, Eddy thought. A simplistic and genuine sentiment without all the weight of the things hidden beneath it.<br/><br/>It wasnt sorry you cannot create anymore. Sorry you have nothing else to fall back on. Sorry you're struggling with your new reality. Sorry there is no cure. Sorry that it wont get better. Sorry that there's no one to blame other than bad genetics, bad luck. Sorry that you've lost yourself. Sorry that you've lost everything. Sorry, sorry, sorry.<br/><br/>Luke said, '<i>I'm sorry it hurts.' </i>and that was it. Eddy could cry from the bald honesty, so mercifully uncomplicated.<br/><br/>Then, as gentle as anything, Luke slotted his slim fingers between Eddy's swollen ones, careful not to press too hard or too tightly. They couldnt lock together completely, Eddy's fingers too stiff to allow them to interlace. Still, it was sweet the boy wanted to try.<br/><br/>"S'fine," Eddy said again as he studied the juxtaposition of their hands, the differences staggering and yet compelling. Old and young, swollen and slender, rigid and flexible, ruined and untouched. Complete opposites. "I can barely feel you."