"Haven't I?" She recoiled away from his touch, took a few steps back. Clearly she'd done everything wrong if this is where they'd ended up. Every move she'd made since September was wrong.

Sloane didn't know how she would finish his incomplete thought either, but she was beginning to discern that it would be wildly different than how he would. If she'd known things would get this far out of whack, this messed up, she might not have taken the risk. Should they have hidden it better? Should they have hidden it at all? Should they have even taken the risk at all? Sloane could not come up with a definitive answer. If she were forced to say right now, he probably would not like the answer.

"I'm telling you I'm miserable and I hate it. The guilt, the lying, the isolation. This is not what this is supposed to feel like. It's not what it should be like. Do with that what you want, but I won't last like this much longer." She was going to combust soon, much sooner rather than later and it wasn't going to be pretty. Especially if he pushed her right now.

She could feel the urge rising now, things she didn't want to say or even feel. She wasn't going to run, but she didn't want to be here anymore. "I need some space." She told him earnestly, blue eyes still brimming with tears.

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She wasn't saying it in plain terms, but Cameron was beginning to feel like this was the end. It made no sense; only a few months ago he'd admitted that he loved her, and now she was here, telling him how miserable she was? Because why? Their friends got mad about it? On thing that had remained true since September was his belief that nothing that happened between him and Sloane was any of their business.

Sloane didn't seem to feel the same. Not anymore. In more ways than one, it seemed.

His bottom lip trembled and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, but he didn't cry or beg or do anything he knew he'd regret later. If she wanted space... fine, he'd give it to her. If she didn't want to last like this—then, Merlin, he didn't think there was anything he could do.

"I've tried my best, Sl-Sloane," he said, his voice wavering. He looked away and tensed his facial muscles; he really didn't want to cry. He hated looking weak. "I'm sorry it's not enough. Just - go," he said miserably, turning away from her entirely.

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On one hand, it was good he hadn't pushed her to stay, she was already on the verge of a breakdown, but on the other, what he did say didn't help any either. It was another knife to the heart, another layer of guilt on top of everything else she already had on her shoulders and it was crushing her.

She didn't know where this left them, but she simply didn't have it in her to try and figure it out right now. She needed some space to figure out her own head and how she could possibly deal with all of this without losing people she cared about. It seemed like an insurmountable task, especially when nobody else seemed willing to change it, and maybe she couldn't either, but that didn't stop the all encompassing guilt from weighing on her all the time.

"See, I told you I can't do anything right," She mumbled, looking at him quickly, though he wasn't looking at her any longer. "I'm sorry." It was all she'd could manage before the floodgates opened and she hurried off the dock, though she hadn't any idea where she could land for this meltdown.

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