[He hesitates, still. Looks at her with eyes that are filled with an unfamiliar unease and uncertainty of what she might do should she hear all of it. Of the things he dared not voice or share with anyone, of thoughts even he tried to ignore, had to accept as what must be because to dwell too long would hinder his path forward. Of the pains he kept hidden locked away from even himself. Everything he had endured on his own because he had to.

Everything that now has been clawed up and forced to face after all those years of brushing it off.

And even now, as discomforting and unpleasant as it is, it's not as if he feels a crushing weight or fear or some kind of crisis. It's more frustration, a more acute awareness of this weakness of his.

But how to explain all of this in a way that won't have her fearing more for his well-being? Without upsetting her as he dredges up those hardships? He doesn't want her to pity him, not out of pride, but solely because he doesn't want to see her hurting for him. Hurting for a time where she could not be with him and thus potentially make her feel unneeded guilt.

Yet she is practically pleading for him to share with her, she always has. And eventually he can't resist her heartfelt attempts to make up for that lost time.

So there will be a long sigh of defeat before he slowly starts to speak.]

You already know how advanced my curse was by then... How even just semi-priming would leave me breathless and coughing blood.

The truth is, even if only my arm had started to turn, the worst of the damage was internal. I was still physically fit, but it was starting to take its toll.