it's only his first month at the circus, and here you are, telling him he's going to be terminated. It's not fair. He's not broken. He'll fix himself.

he sits on his knees in front of you, grabbing at your clothes, sobbing.

"P-please..."

it's no use. He knows he's barely worthy to talk to someone like you. He's worthless. Useless. And you... you're everything.

nevertheless, he doesn't want to die.