Brick: Smartie?
Axl: No, thanks. Can I say something? I'm leaving tomorrow, and it kinda feels like you care more about your bookcase and your redecorating and your "fiche-niche" than you care about me. You had, like, superhuman strength getting my stuff out. It, um... [sighs] ...kinda hurts my feelings.
Brick: Axl. My whole life, I've been breathing your sweaty sneakers, l-living with cereal bowls everywhere, your hair everywhere, wet towels on my bed. I never really had anything that wasn't yours already or anything that didn't have something to do with you. And if that's ending, then I'm trying to figure out what my room is without you in it. I don't know. You're like my arm or something. Like having to suddenly learn to write with your left hand. You get that, right?
Axl: Yeah, I do. Wait. Just explain that arm thing to me again, though.
Brick: I'm saying I'll miss you.
Axl: Yes, that's what I thought. Just didn't know if there was another part to it. [sighs] I feel the arm thing about you, too.