gyokyuken
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There is guilt clawing at Naim’s throat, and it feels just like Ryan’s fist digging into his mouth, forcing the molten hot sensation of dread into his trachea like bile, like acid pooling low on his stomach, and his eyes sting, and he cannot feel the tips of his fingers.
He deserves the pain, he realizes. All of it was his fault. Ryan should’ve ditched him long ago.
Or; Naim never apologized to the real Ryan. The guilt is eating him alive, and the words he wants to say aren’t coming out.