The same rush threatens to bowl Adam over, watching Peter miss him from a breadth away. It's breaking his heart all over again, and it almost feels wrong to see this part. He's struck with the overwhelming urge to take Peter into his arms and yet he's hanging back, trying to regulate his breathing as his fist curls in the sand next to Peter's leg. "It's much too little far too late, but I'm not going anywhere either."

He lifts his eyebrows, doing his best to catch Peter's eyes. He can hardly take the full force of his gaze when it comes, feeling more than a little leveled by the guilt he sees reflecting back. Adam can scarcely breathe as it is, tearing his eyes away from Peter's becoming an impossibility as the glue sets. Every piece of him is in rigor, waiting for Peter's next move, a rare exercise in following.

If he could always dream of Peter, what more could he possibly want for? Even like this, even with the way they're both crumbling in with the sand, he can't imagine another place he'd rather be. His chest is so tight, his face drawn tight from too many tears, and still his only wish is to stay right here.