It's enough to draw Jason for a second out of the panic that was starting to creep up his throat, barking out a laugh that's more surprise than anything else. "Shit. Really?" It's hard to picture, and trying to is distracting for a few seconds more.

But he can't hide from the rest of it forever. It feels a little like he's dragging the words out, and it's quiet, because he can't seem to say it any louder. "Of course -- of course I meant it." He probably wouldn't have said it if he hadn't been high enough not to care, or if he thought he'd be here now, but that doesn't mean it wasn't the truth. "All of it. You. Peter. You know I."

Which is where he'd usually leave it, and let Peter fill in the blank for him, because it's easier. He swallows, throat dry, and pushes forward, because isn't keeping this shit to himself part of what got them into this mess? "I love you. I know I, I fucked up beyond belief in every way possible, but I... I always have. I don't -- I don't know why I wouldn't want you here."