He'd apologize, but it's futile, so he doesn't bother. Instead, he just sits with him for awhile, and passes a bottle of booze between the two of them for an even longer while.

When they've had enough or it's gone--whichever comes first--he'll set the bottle aside and sink down against the mattress, absently dragging his fingers across Mick's wrist, before he closes his hand around his arm and tugs. Drunk enough, it wouldn't be hard to tug him down next to him, and if Mick settles against him like he wants, Leonard idly draws patterns against the inside of his arm.

He isn't good at this, and he has no idea what to say. But he'd told Mick before he'd try, whatever that even meant. That he wouldn't just...fall back into old patterns and ignore everything. This isn't much, it's barely anything at all, but maybe it's enough. For now, until he can find the words to say.