Something in him twisted, wondering where this was going. He sat beside the other, looking down at his sandwich as he spoke, but not eating it. His stomach wouldn't allow it when he was nervous, waiting for some hammer to fall. He couldn't imagine it, going through this amount of shit at the age of twelve. He didn't want to know. His childhood had been shitty enough without thinking about what it would have been like with this at his door. And in some abstract way he had understood Leonard had gone through this, but never thought to much on it. It had never come up, after all. Not like this.

"There's nothing wrong with the way you are, Leonard," he said, dropping into the use of his name rather than his sign. It was quiet here, no one else around, and the subject to personal for him to think of using anything else.

He picked at the paper of his sandwich, not sure what was expected of him here.