Ethan still couldn't talk to Faye. He didn't know how he could. After she'd some that thing about him not talking to her, something inside him broke -like a part of him that was made of glass was hanging by a thread and when she'd confirmed their bad blood relationship that string had gotten cut and it fell to the floor and shattered. He ran a hand through his already-messy hair and groaned, taking a seat.
"You need to talk to her," Celena pressed. "She's clearly done with all this shit, as am I."
"I can’t!" Ethan yelled. Celena stepped back to look at him. Obvious frustration brewed over his face. “I can’t talk to her, Celena. What am I supposed to say? Sorry for your impulses? Sorry I brought you into this mess in the first place? Sorry I couldn't be a better friend because I don't know any better? What! Am I! Supposed! To say!?”