Gabriel's knees are always (skinned) wrote in rooms,
Re: Times Square: Ronan/Ben
[He's a mirror imagine of Ben's pain, with the spike of hard, sharp things in his stomach, too. Emptying out and then dropping with the weight of a dignitas pull. He doesn't try to pull away from the hang of Ben's hand in the air, but he doesn't push into it, either. And he can hear the blank, hollowed shock in Ben's head. Then the thoughts, and the disgust, and the invisible curl of a lip.]
I'm so sorry, Ben - [His voice breaks, and he recoils under the not-weight of Ben's open palm. The wet streak of tears are still hot on his cheeks, and he's shrinking from Ben's disgust, and he just - he fucking despises himself. He'd rather be dead than live with the knowledge that he's hurt the best man that he's ever known.]
I don't - I didn't - I didn't mean it, I swear. I didn't know. I thought it was a dream, it wasn't real. I never would have - I didn't - [He breaks off, voice cracking, as his cheeks flush an even brighter splotch of red.]