Then he kissed him.
His lips crashed against Ryley's like someone afraid of losing something irreplaceable.
The kiss was deep, almost desperate—breath uneven, grip tightening just a little too much. As if he could anchor truth in place.
His lips lingered against Ryley's after they parted, and somewhere beneath the intensity, beneath the possessive hold, a silent prayer formed behind his ribs—
Please.
Please don't let there be shadows I cannot see.
"I can't stop thinking about it," Clyde said quietly, his voice roughened by something heavier than anger. "About how much of your pain I didn't see. How much of it exists because of me."
Ryley pulled back just enough to look at him, frowning.
"Clyde… no. Don't do that." His arms tightened instinctively around him. "You didn't cause me pain. You didn't burden me. Just because someone close to you hurt me doesn't make it your sin to carry."
