"It ought to be." It's a plain statement, but he can't bring himself to look at Charlie again. "We've known this about you for months now, and we still- Christ, Charlie--"

And his voice finally cracks along with his expression, a bleak twist of anxiety as he runs a hand through his hair. "I owe you that. You deserve better than believing we're in any way above any of the shit you've dealt with, o-or that we're not just as fucked up in our own ways."

He gives a flat huff, and a wretched smile. "Especially when of the three of us, I'm the least helpful, on every fucking front. I've only been involved in this shit for five months before this place, at most."