continued from x @bosstonius
They don't believe him. They call him a liar.
Salem's eyes widen in disbelief. How could they not see that he's telling the truth? Why would he have any reason to lie to Descole? His hands begin to clench into fists at his sides, embers of anger replacing the twisting knot of guilt in his stomach.
“Don't. Call me that.” He grits out between his teeth. “You really think I'd lie about this? That I'd lie about feeling regret for breaking trust, crossing lines, and losing connections? Don't you think I feel guilty? For being too curious for my own good, for being impulsive, for being overbearing! That it was my fault, that I'm to blame, that I overstepped several bounds and ruined everything! That I'm the reason why he left—"
Salem stops himself before he can finish his sentence. No, he doesn't want to think about him, not now or ever again. "I have to be better... I don't want to lose anyone else because of me." He digs his nails into his palms and takes a slow, deep breath. He's getting too angry over a stupid game of truth or dare. He picks up his journal from the desk, practically shoving it into Descole's hands. “If you're so insistent on looking through it, fine. Be my guest. Have your dare if it makes you happy.” He turns away, visibly bracing himself for what Descole will read if they open the sketchbook.









