Erskine wanted to believe that something would have been different, had he known during the war that he'd been in love with Hopeless, but maybe... maybe that was foolish. He couldn't have prevented Hopeless from going on dangerous missions. Hopeless would still be dead; loving him wouldn't have prevented that either. The only real difference was that Erskine would have grieved as something like a lover, instead of a bereft friend--but he'd already grieved so hard that maybe they were one and the same anyway.

"Don't," he said, and he carefully moved one arm from around Hopeless to lift a hand to his face, to stroke a thumb over Hopeless's jawline. "Don't be sorry. You did what you could. It was my fault. It was all my fault." Erskine's voice was thick and his eyes shut tightly, though the little strokes of his thumb on Hopeless's skin didn't stop. "It's my fault Mevolent got you in the first place. It's my fault we lost you. You were the best thing in my life and I'm the reason you're gone. I'm so sorry."

From pure joy, minutes ago, to tears stinging his eyes. No wonder he'd been such a wreck these last few months, in spite of all the progress he'd made. There was so much he'd needed to say and he hadn't been able to say it to the person who mattered.