He was the worst. [ heine says it affectionately, a faint smile tugging at his lips. ] You know him. His personality is huge, he smokes like a furnace, he's always making some kind of joke or comment. And I was...

[ it's hard to figure out the right words for how heine was: suicidally depressed, withdrawn, quiet and cutting, wearing his pain like broken glass armor so that no one would come too close. ]

I would— [ starve himself. deny himself sleep, water, comfort, pleasure. self-denial, because he didn't think he had earned the good things; self-harm, because it wasn't like it lasted. ] I had a hard time letting anyone in, I didn't think I deserved friendship or kindness. So we kinda grated at each other at first.

I'm sure he figured out we were friends way before I did, but for me it took years.