Wolfgang would rather sink into the floor and die than have this conversation. He's embarrassed that she saw, embarrassed he let himself get to this point - what if Mermaid had seen, what if. Why did he stop taking them? He was fine before. It had sounded like a good idea at the time - the healthy, responsible decision, like he'd decided to stop drinking so much or take up running again.

He can still hear them, but they're quiet, with a tinny quality like they're on the other end of the phone. He had gotten so used to tuning them out.

"I'll be fine." He looks down at her hands, still refusing to make eye contact, knowing that he's still lying and he winces as he says it. It's so hard to say anything; his throat works convulsively but for a long time, no sound comes out. But he owes her. He can't just pull that shit around her and then say sorry and go hide in his room and pretend like they're not friends, that he doesn't care. It's not fair and she deserves an explanation.

Finally, in a low voice, barely audible: "I stop taking my meds."