"We're not mated." Will's voice cracks out of him, angry and low. But even just that sentence spends all of his righteousness at once, Will's shoulders and chest bowing back down.

He can't apologize right away. He can't pull together the explanation, too concerned with searching out the correct pieces to share from the shattered scene in front of him.

The trust that Rust will still be there by the time he's ready to talk is a low instinct, one that Will can't fully believe in yet but that he finds himself relying on. He steals a glance at the other man bowed on the bed, his own eyes averted.

"It's been leeching further into my skin since about a month before I was officially arrested." He doesn't think he actually needs to explain it all to keep getting input, but Will's starting to shake again with the energy that brought him to drive almost two hours in a flash flood. "I had...a shadow behind me that kept whispering who it might be. I kept ignoring it."

His mouth is so dry. Will swallows and tastes ash. "Got an answer I didn't want today."