[Something about the words, spoken as unfeelingly as they are, makes Kariya grit his teeth. He can't tell if the feeling rising in him is temper or something else altogether -- quashes it ruthlessly, because his temper has done enough for now.

(It's something he's always hated in Byakuya, the way he doesn't so much bend as crumple. He hates watching it, the way he couldn't avoid it even with his eyes on the ground.)

Quieter, and very even--]

You're not that much older than me. You'll give yourself more wrinkles, talking like that.

[There are a lot of things Kariya doesn't know how to apologize for. Wrinkles being the least of them. People he chose over other people; things he closed his eyes to; things he didn't think about because it was easier; ten years of stolen time that he doesn't even know who to return to; endless things, a crushing weight, but he knows how to bend without breaking.

This place has been a prison and a penance, but it's never been home. He forfeited that right a long time ago -- and the regret is a complicated thing, with claws that hook into too much else in his life.

Who does he have the right to apologize to?]