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Between the tears, an arm around her shoulders, and one patting her awkwardly from the other side, Peyton finally just succumbed to the mounting guilt and uncurled from her little ball of misery. She rose up on her knees and turned, drawing both Noah and Roland into a tight hug. "I'm sorry Noah. I'm so sorry I dragged you into this. You were just trying to be nice, and a good friend, and you didn't deserve having to suffer through this." The arm around his neck tightened. As did the one around Roland, but she hadn't done anything to wrong him, big or small, so the poor Mist was saved a sappy apology.

One last squeeze, then she let them both go and got up from her chair. She felt small. Pathetically small and insecure, and about as low as dirt. A watery look glance was sent towards Taym and America, and she hesitated only a moment before slinking over to stand beside the couch they were sitting on. "Taym, I'm sorry." Fresh tears. "You're always looking out for me, and I'm not half as grateful as I should be. I should have been thanking you for keeping me from hitting Rep, but instead I just snarled at you. I'm so sorry!" For this, for every time she'd put him in an awkward place with ehr feelings. For not being..

Pale eyes twitched to America. "And I'm sorry to you, too. For being jealous." Her lips pressed into a thin line, biting off anything else she might have said, and she turned away, seeking out souls she had wronged.

Otto and Rep were next, she wound up hovering beside them as the taller man released her cousin, and she stared up at him looking small and ashamed. "I'm sorry I always snap at you and try to say painful things, but you go after the people I care about, and I don't know what else to do." Apparently her own sense of forgiveness only expanded so far. "Maybe if we were all nicer to you, you wouldn't feel the need to needle at people." Small hands were wringing when she gave a small nod, more to herself then him, before turning to Otto.

She reached for his arm, fingers wrapping loosely around his wrist. "I'm sorry I didn't go after you when you rushed out." A pause, brows dipping. "And all the times I wasn't there for you, because I didn't know what you were to me. I want to be your family, and I think maybe I push too hard, but it's only because I care."

Later she'd probably regret all this, but that was a problem for later. Right now the mass guilt overdose was fueling her.

He would probably have been OK--he was holding it together pretty well, all things considered, if you discounted the highway-litter-indian tears--even when Kostya sat down and he felt a swell of fraternal feeling. He was in the process of apologizing to Nevada for some vague slight that he found difficult to phrase, exactly--he wasn't sure what he was apologizing for but he was damn well going to try--when Peyton showed up and interrupted his earnest tirade and brought everything down.

There was some serious catharsis happening in this room. So many good vibes.

There was nothing for it. This needed to be hugged out, and pronto. It was probably for the best for Peyton that she moved on immediately, but this was probably bad news for Kostya, because Taym had already hugged America or at least wept onto her shoulder, and Nevada was further away than he was.

Today Kostya would learn what it was like to be forcibly pushed into a bag of wire hangers.

Taym gazed at Kostya with deep sympathy and compassion (from his low angle of the floor).

"It's OK, man," he assured him. "You need to just accept the existence of those negative feelings and then dismiss them. You have the power. You can do it."

In the meantime, Taym still needed hugs. He chose the route of wrapping his arms around America's leg, his head resting on her knee while he continued to stare encouragingly at Kostya, waiting for a breakthrough.

He gave her a look, because she was not one with the basement kingdom, but opted to say nothing, as the president was the one sharing resources. She opened her mouth to be fed, and he offered her a new bagel, spread with the indicated variety of cream cheese, and fed her while ensuring her fingers didn't touch his mouth.

At Obadiah's proclamation, however, he wondered one thing.



What was going on.

"It's not forever," Harrison said, eyeing the buffet table.

"I'm okay, so nothing was in the food..." The stick was glowing. Was that normal?

He took Rep's chin, looking him in the eye.

"From one suspicious b*****d to another, even if I can't see under all the s**t as good as you do, I like you."

He couldn't wait any longer, feeling a urgency in getting to pour his heart out when everyone else felt terrible. Maybe he could change things? Maybe he could tell them that they weren't bad people and that he actually was the crap pile of the universe that needed scrapped off of someone's shoe.

He took Rin's hand, gripping it tightly but then gently as to not crush her delicate hands, and dragged her over to Rep who was crying into Harrison's chest. He looked at the moon only because he was the only one who wasn't buried in someone's chest. "I'm a real s**t Lifer. I sometimes wish I could be as good at healing and useful as you. At least people respect you and you can do stuff when people are hurt. I don't think I've done anything but look at charts and bring meals in the Infirmary. I probably haven't learned anything from you despite you showing me." Because he was an idiot and sucked at everything he did on the island. Fighting. Healing. Research.

He reached out, nudging Rep's shoulder with the only hand that wasn't holding Rin's. "I"m sorry I don't have your back more. Everyone gangs up on you and I try and help you but you really have it under control to fight them back more than I could because you're massive and can take down polar bears with your own two hands and laugh. I can't even handle my own mess and I still want to help you with yours when I can't even deal with soap scum in the guys bathroom and you have done this so much longer than I have. You've done so much more to save people than I have and I haven't done anything for you but be a d**k and make fun of your cake mix box."

Melvin took a shuddering breath as his face was flushed and stained with tears. "I really look up to how strong you are and yet when you got in that pod all I could think was that I didn't do anything for you to help or realize sooner and how much of a s**t friend I was. I could have at least dusted your pod. Even now you are crying and I couldn't stop that." Okay, maybe he was feeling a bit too responsible for things. "If I had a stronger cleaner during the hoard clean out and have made one that killed Halloween bugs then you still would..." He felt his voice crack a bit. "...have your pretty, soft, hair."

He had to turn at this at the very thought of the red hair that was lost to parasites. If only he had made a stronger cleaner.

If only.

What in the -

What.

They had gone from a Jerry Springer-like room full of people yelling and screaming at each other to everyone bawling on each other's shoulders. Ian stared at the room with a look of utter bemusement on his face, mouth slightly agape, and tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.

"Is everyone smoking something I should know about," he whispered to Shiloh, turning his head to give a small laugh -

- except the laugh quickly turned into an expression of startled surprise as Shiloh crumpled against him, and Ian hastily lifted his arms, wrapping them around his boyfriend's shaking shoulders. "Oh, jeez," he said quickly, fumbling to try and figure out where all of these feelings had come from. "Babe, uh, are you okay? It's okay, sweetheart, really, it's okay."

Rep did not enjoy the people who were coming to apologise to him even one bit. Every person who showed up to talk to him or to apologise was another yoke about his neck, another layer of guilt on top of his own. And in the way only emotions could, it hurt, it made him want to curl up in a ball and wait for merciful death to spare him from it.

Melvin's words, though sincere and earnest were unbearable, apologies for things that were earned, things that weren't his fault.

And he couldn't find the words to respond, he owed the other man so many ******** apologies there just was nowhere to start.

When Melvin was pulled into the hug he flinched, he didn't want to be touched, every touch made him more aware of how unappealing he was and how much he hated this, all of this. He was sorry but he wasn't happy, there was no peace, just the twisted anxiety of too much and no escape.