Oh, no, I don't mind living here, I appreciate the quiet, honestly... And- [And he doesn't really know HOW to take care of himself COMPLETELY as well as he'd like. He can manage and he's smart enough to figure all of that shit out. But his selection of food would be unhealthy, to be sure, and limited until he learned to cook.

But also... he doesn't want to be lonely. He hates it. He hates it so much.]

I didn't... I don't want my own place. [He voices it, whatever it is. A desire, perhaps, something he's willing to let himself have, if tentatively, delicately holding onto it but ready to be disappointed and let down in a moment's notice.]

I- if I could... I-I'd like to stay. Please let me stay.