Caleb shrugs. "What choice do I really have?" he points out. He sounds a little bitter, but resigned, and he stands so he can put his math shit away. "I mean, I'm fucking tired, Dude. I'm tired of not sleeping, I'm fucking tired of feeling crazy, I just— I just want to be a normal fucking teenager."

That's more than he'd meant to say, and Caleb huffs an exhausted half-sob as he sits in the booth again, this time across from him, like he's just too tired to even stand anymore. He rubs his face and curses softly into his palm.

"I'm, I'm sorry, you don't need my shit."