When Julie slides an arm around his shoulders, the tension goes out of them and he ducks his head, squeezes his eyes shut, sways his body to the side so he can lean against her a little. All those little pinpricks of hate he'd been feeling toward her earlier evaporate and he rests his head against the top of hers, exhaling shakily.

Everything in him still wants to get up and go back to his room and just down half the bottle of pills and just float away into bliss, but he stays put, lifts a hand and scrubs at his face a little, still shaky.

"I know, I know, I know, I know I did. Sorry. I just...fuck. This fucking sucks. Sobriety is not easy. Everything is so much. It's like someone skinned me alive and the whole world is sandpaper."

Dropping his hand from his face, he starts scratching idly at his forearm, trying to distract himself from the bugs-under-skin crawling sensation that comes with cravings.