[X knows. He knows this about Devin, knows Devin's life, knows Devin's mental obstacles and the retreats his mind has chosen to cope. Devin's known betrayal worse than anything X ever has. Of course he has issues with trust.

That doesn't make it any easier for X to handle.

He inhales, swallows around the lump in his throat, and peers up at Devin through tear-stained eyes that, hopefully, won't detract too much from his point.]

You said... you don't know how it usually works. Usually, if I help, it... helps. It helps me, I mean, to try and help you. You can't see your own pain anymore, like how you stop noticing a smell when it doesn't go away. If I can help, even a little, it... helps.

['Helps' is starting not to sound like a word.]