[ fucking delta is faster than him — he knows it from the sound of his nearing footfalls, and yet it still fills him with an unconscionable rage when he's tackled and pinned. delta doesn't fucking get it. he'll never get it. ]

Get the fuck off me! [ he struggles beneath his weight but it's impossible for him to break free like this, nearly in a blind panic and his sudden view of the sky doing little to help. he shuts his eyes, breathing hard as he drops his hands and keeps them flat against the stone floor. don't touch delta. everything will be fine if he just doesn't touch delta.

nothing is fine, because he still doesn't know where the fuck they are or what the plan is to get back to the beach. he still doesn't know why he's suddenly seeing the man he killed when he was fourteen. and he doesn't fucking know how to make the fire stop despite having kept it mostly under control for the last several years. he wants to fucking disappear. he wants his goddamn mom. ]

Get off me. [ this time it's choked out through sobs, sudden tears tracking down his cheeks. the fight goes out of him as he looks away, trying to catch his unsteady breath. fuck, he's crying. he wishes he could smack this memory right out of delta's stupid fucking head. ] Get off me. I'm not going to run.

[ because delta makes a very good point that he has no idea where he's going. for all he knows there are giant black holes in the ground waiting to shoot him into fucking space. ]

Explain. [ he swallows, drawing in a sharply wet breath. ] Can you fix this? I swear to fucking god, Delta, you better fucking fix this.