Absolving me. That's what it feels like he's attempting. Hand gripped around the can, as though it's the only thing that helps him retain resolve at all. I don't need forgiveness— I stopped seeking that long ago. Whatever he chooses to forgive me for, whatever anger he continues to bury in his heart, none of it changes the past, nor even leaves a door open to try. And ever since Damian appeared, his existence kept secret from me for nearly a decade, the prevaling thought in my mind and the one most gripping is the fear that, in time, I will also let him down. My absence would have him pushing ahead in the wrong direction. But the very same care I feel, the desire I have to see them happy, it indulges them to the point of overstepping that line.

What do I do?

What can I even do?

"Jason, you still don't understand. I don't blame you for this. For what you wanted to do to him."

Why, why even in a city so desolate and barren, abandoned long ago by those who once reveled in its luxury, why must his voice even sound here?

"I'm sorry that I couldn't."