His jaw works silently. The tears welling up in his eyes turn his eyelashes into liquid black as that damned song keeps repeating in his head. Images flash by, one after the other, of Lindsey, and Angel, and all the seemingly insignificant things that led up to that one night when everything changed for the worse. And how could he possibly tell Andrew about any of that? How could he even think it was a good idea to go out here, into the real world and make shiny new friends? The mere notion is preposterous.

"You didn't hear it," he whispers, his voice tinted by mirthless laughter. "You didn't hear her singing. Over there, at the-- At the street corner up ahead."

It makes much more sense now. Sometimes he forgets that humans can't hear that well. But that doesn't stop the gnawing pain threatening to swallow him whole. He tries to stand up, and doesn't quite make it.