It wasn't that he didn't want to tell Fai, he wanted to say. He wanted to tell him every little thing that ever crossed his mind, from the profound to the inane, and share every part of it with him. It was just that he couldn't. But explaining it like that would have raised questions of why not, and if there was someone he could tell, and how would he have answered those?

Instead, he let himself be as honest as he felt he could safely be-- showed him the vulnerability no one else was allowed to see, as he leaned against his hand and curled up in his arms, seeking out warmth and comfort with no shame at all.

"It-- I just had kind of a bad day, kotku. That's all."

Fai always told him. When someone hurt him, or when he felt sad or lonely, he always told him, and knowing it stung at his conscience. It's not that I don't trust you, he tried to project through his body language.