"You think I've been running all these years?!" He can't look at him, not even as he feels him approach. The shadows are restless, crowding him, and he feels like every eye in that church is on him- snap out of it. He doesn't notice the marigolds blooming in the linoleum around him, growing around his feet.

"I've been tryin' to be the person you expected me to be, Reyes-" He can't let go of the shelf, hands shaking, trying to clear all the grief out of his head, all the anguish he's bottled up ever since that funeral.

Should have stayed. Could have made a difference. Could have saved-

"Leave."