[He loves her. It's because he loves her that he's thinking, even now in this moment of catharsis, of what he's done wrong and how to keep it from happening in the future. He remembers everything Fugo said, every word, just as he always does. He asked Fugo for a reason.]

[Do you think it's possible to know someone too well?]

[Her knees tremble. He wraps his arms still tighter around her, holding her so securely that if she falls, it's clear he'll catch her. Even so, he buries his face in her shoulder, because he has to protect himself too. Because shame curls like toxic smoke up his throat, saying this.]

I'm sorry. I made assumptions. Because I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to know people. The person who ever really mattered to me just — understood. About things like this. So I thought anyone who understood me would know like he knew, and it's—

[His heart rises into his throat, threatening to choke him. When he speaks, it sounds like he's forcing the words out past a blockage. Tears fall thick and fast on her shoulder.]

That's not fair, Riley. You're you, not anyone else. I'm really . . . really sorry.