[He shivers again at the contact, still unused to any of the sort, still feeling like everything in this body is on fire, that any little touch would be enough to leave him sobbing and yearning for more. Keith's sure touch on his hand, though, helps ground him and he doesn't try to pull away, lets his hand rest against his cheek, thumb tracing the line of Keith's scar.]
I-- [...] I know you won't blame me for any of this. I know it does me no good to blame myself, either. But... [it's not so simple, after everything he's done, after everything.]
I don't know if I can forgive myself for this, Keith. Any of this.