Heath can't believe it.
Damon isn't following him. Nobody is behind him. No one is calling his name with an apology. He's walking out yet Damon is not chasing after him. Tears prick at the corner of his eyes; it feels like he's been slapped in the face. More than anger, he feels shame.
He doesn't want to leave. He wants to be comforted and doted on. He wants hugs, kisses, and words of reassurance. He wants that deep voice to tell him that it will always be him—just like before, but now that he has taken the first step, he can't turn back. His pride won't allow him to, not over his dead body, so he lets the night swallow his shadow.
On the way to his family home, he tries his best not to think about it. Closing his eyes, he ignores the image of Damon's indifferent gaze on him. It's not the first, and he knows it won't be the last. Damon is slipping away no matter how tight he holds, loose sand over his fingers.
