Under the gentle weight of Kyle's hand, his fingers fall still and uncurl from the quilt. For a moment, he focuses on that. The stillness, the quiet. It was never this quiet in the pit. There was always something stirring in the dark, a restlessness that swelled in the shadows.

His gaze drifts back to Kyle. He's never been good at talking about his feelings. The last few weeks have left him with so many jumbled, jagged things that he wishes he could just spit out like broken teeth. He feels them sitting there now, on top of his chest and in the back of his throat.

"I think I got so desperate that I just believed anything," he says, the words plodding along pensively. "As fucked up as it is, it...it gave me hope. It was better than believing I might die down there. I could, you know, save everyone instead."

Maybe that's why he turned so easily, and so sharply. He shakes his head, shoulders bunching and sloping with a sigh.

"I was so fucking stupid."