He sees all the anger deflate right out of him and Leonard isn't sure that's any better, really. Standing there, leaned up against the counter, Mick just looks defeated and lost and it's killing Leonard inside to stand and watch. Knowing he could fix it, if he could find the words to explain it, but he can't. He doesn't know how to put it in words.

There's a sort of panic swirling tight in his chest that he hadn't noticed until now, and his head is clouded, his ears are ringing-- Leonard rarely actually gets worked up like this, even quietly and to himself, in his head, but when he does there's no way to stop it. It's a spiral of a loss of control that he can't deal with.

"I know," his voice is tight with the overwhelming emotion in his head and his heart just then. "I'm sorry," he mumbles, shaking his head and there's a slow, half-step backwards as he prepares to leave. Because he has to leave. He can't stay here, in this room, while Mick stands there looking the way he is and blaming himself for something he never had a part in. "It's not you." Another step. And another. "It was never you."

And it's over, because he can't do it anymore. He has to leave so he can finish this spiral alone. He spins on his heel and darts out of the room as quickly as he can, going to lock himself away for awhile. Specifically not the room he and Mick share because it wouldn't help, and not Lisa's because she'll surely be home soon and he can't risk that. It's a spare bedroom, extra and not used for much of anything than a catch-all storage space; something that isn't attached to anything running rampant through his veins just now.