Uhhhhh. A lot. Ghosts are kind of a thing I deal with now at all times. Twenty-four seven ghosts.

[ a breath, then: ]

I do feel better having them. Just... I just need them.

[ just in case, he doesn't say, but the vibe is there. he does startle at that tap, eyes going wide as he looks right at him. ]

Your plan was good. Things just fell down around us. If I can't blame myself, neither can you.

[ and he's just starting to calm down more when branlon draws back and his panic ramps up fully again. he sees the look on his face and starts breathing faster, practically hyperventilating just from that, reaching for him— ]

I—

[ the words barely break through; the pause is so long he feels like he's going to pass out from how awful his breathing's gone, and when branlon pulls him in again he lets out another soft sob, clutching at him like he'd just lost him all over again. from that single step, that single look.

so many things have happened to winslow over the years, and he's definitely not the person branlon remembers anymore. at least not in the face of this.

he does, thankfully, manage to even out his breathing as he's held though, as he's spoken to, as he exhales and tilts his head into the touch, into the murmur against him.

finally, he manages: ]

I love you too. I always will. It's just been... [ he considers his words carefully. ] A lot. Everything is so much, Branlon.

[ he draws just his face back to look at him, hand lifting to touch his face reverently. it's riddled with scars of puncture marks from what look like a human-sized mouth. they weren't there before. ]

As much time as we have, I'll take.

[ he laughs, rough but it at least sounds genuine. ]

I know I sound like shit right now but I'm so happy.