[Why? When is there ever a reasonable answer to that? It had made perfect sense to him at the time, when he'd been desperate, heartbroken, sick with guilt. The bottom of the barrel, the end of his rope, insert-dramatic-metaphor-of-choice. It had felt like the right choice. It had felt like there hadn't been a choice.

Now? Everything he'd told himself at the time is just an excuse to make him feel better about giving up.]

...Because... because I was stupid. Because I wasn't thinking. Because I was thinking too much.

[Because I made you leave me. Which he doesn't say, since no matter how he could possibly phrase it, it would still come out sounding like it was Teddy's fault, and it wasn't, it wasn't, not ever.]

Teddy, I don't... I didn't put any value on my own life. I felt empty, worthless, broken. I thought that if... if all I did was make people suffer, then I don't- I don't deserve to...

[He trails off, glancing aside. It's all just empty justification now, pointless excuses for a stupid, reckless, selfish mistake. Teddy deserves better.]

...It doesn't matter why. What matters is that it didn't work.