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Summary
“Darling…” A hand suddenly closes around his own, tightening until his fingers are encased in an almost painful hold. “What do you think you’re doing?”
For several moments, Waylon can only stare at the man in wide-eyed shock, lips trembling as he struggles to find the words — the excuses — the lies to feed him. Gluskin merely looks at him expectantly and he caves, miserable tears springing to his eyes.
“I’m sorry.” He finally chokes out, because he knows saying anything else will only make things worse in the end.
