Kintla Flatlands [m] so please don't take me for no fool

You never asked, he points out—although knows the blame isn’t on Zephyr’s shoulders either, not when he could have easily reacted, but he’d been playing things careful, waiting and allowing his own feelings to develop rather than rush hastily in. He regrets that, more than he could imagine. If he rushed in, maybe they wouldn’t be here, and maybe he ought to not feel as deeply as he does.
He sucks in a breath, giving a look that is as apologetic as it may get from Kratos.
He wanted you, obviously, enough that things explored deeper, enough that Mal whisked Zephyr who’d been fine with traveling as lone wolves into a pack, where chaos has since reigned and their trio is now a duo—everything bad that could have happened has, except one of them dying for sure.
I want you. Another fact he thought obvious, but maybe that’s Kratos’ problem; he never voices it until it’s much too late.