When the light finally disappears Ezekiel slumps, bringing up a hand to press against his pounding head. The relief doesn't last long, however, because Peter's threat comes with a mute terror that settles like poison in his stomach.

Maybe in a few hours.

"Right." His voice comes out wrong, everything about this is wrong because there is nothing right about this, ever. But what else is there to say? It's either that or screaming hysterically. And he fears that if he starts he won't be able to stop. "I got it."

But Peter is still getting a reaction, his poker face damaged by the fear and, even worse, despair. How is he supposed to fight this? He can't fight this.

Maybe every night.

He hangs his head, exhausted by pain and hopelessness.

"... I know why you're doing this. It won't make you feel better."