[ Kavinsky doesn't feel guilty anymore, he had crushed the feeling right out of himself long before he died. When he killed his father, and ran off to Henrietta with his mother, he had left the last of it behind. From then on, Kavinsky felt like guilt was only a thing that held a person back and he has no time for that, not even here.

The biggest thing he felt when he got here was regret. Had he made a mistake? Would Ronan have saved him if he had just waited a little bit longer? Should he have killed himself a lot sooner? If he had made more of a move on Ronan, would he had gone for it? The loneliness was unbearable and Kavinsky was left wondering if any of them had cared if he was gone, or he had left nothing of the legacy he was craving behind.

He's still too scared to ask Ronan that question, so he focuses on the here and now. ]

Then you know that I was done. I didn't fucking want this. [At least Ronan remembers. At least in his head, he didn't forget. In the quiet of the house, Kavinsky can vaguely hear those words, and his stomach does a flip, or maybe it's his heart. Everything inside of him suddenly feels uneven again. ]

I did. I didn't want to, and I didn't fucking love it, but what the fuck else was I supposed to do?

[ His foot makes some circles around Ronan's groin, pressing against his hardness and then he moves fluidly to straddle Ronan's lap, his bony ass pressing against his legs. He's replaced his foot with his hand now, palming at him, the other sliding up around Ronan's neck. He hates Ronan, and he hates this, but he won't be filled with more regret.]

You're not the only one who remembers. I remember, too.