It's overwhelming. He's never wanted to say what he's felt before, full stop, ever. But the urge to do so now is so entirely overpowering that he's standing, vines around everyones' ankles, staring, and helpless. "...I don't know what I did wrong. I thought I liked someone, but...I've fooled everyone into thinking I don't care so fucking effectively that....oh shit."

That's when the weed pulls Aris away. He's pulled into action, and yet compelled to give Winter just a tiny little kiss on the crown of her head as he runs. Reassuring. They can talk more later. Or, ideally, never, not about this. There's more pressing matters. He grabs the weed holding Aris and pulls back with all the muscle in his woefully birdlike frame.