[ he doesn't elaborate anymore than that, relieved that she doesn't try to think about it too deeply. he knows viveca tries to warn them before hand, and he's not surprised that she'd done the same in warning clara (and he's also relieved that viveca never made any mention of his decision to her either).

he hates to lie to her, he really does. but he doesn't have a choice here. she's already in tears, and the truth would only break her more, knowing that clara's heart is too big for the people she cares about, that she cares about him enough to hate what he might be going through for her. but he doesn't want the pity. not when he knows well what choice he's made — and that it might not even have entirely been about clara, either, but also in relation to the way he sees his own self-worth.

all he can do is bring his arms around her when she moves in to embrace him, sighing as he brings his fingers to her hair and brushes gently.

whatever's happened between them, whatever fantasy he'd had to wake himself from, he still cares about her. and he'll still do whatever he has to in order to protect her. ]

Because I knew you'd try to stop me from doing it. [ just as he'd been quick to stop her in turn. ] And ... then, things with us weren't really in a ... good place for me to ever bring it up.