[There might not be a timer in his mind, but there certainly is in hers. As far as she's concerned, she's far past the limit, far past what she should be allowing herself to do, and even as he cradles her head, she tells herself she's an asshole for letting it happen. She doesn't know how to talk to him right now, but she know he prefers that she try, so she does.]

I'm sorry.

[Her voice is shaky and quiet, but as soon as she forces the words out, it feels easier to say the rest, even if it comes out all in a panicky, breathless rush.]

I'm sorry I screwed up so bad. I'm sorry I screwed up the one time you needed me not to. I'm sorry I made that whole stupid thing worse and... and I'm sorry I'm using you as a fucking... A fucking crutch again.