It takes a moment, but Dominic realizes the meaning of the expression on Eli's face, the stink of sweat in the air, the way he's sucking in his breaths as if they plan to escape him.

It blurts out before he has a chance to fight it back. "You're afraid of me." It's an uncontrolled realization, and he knows it sounds like one. Shock. Revulsion. He thinks for a moment he's going to be sick, thanks God that he never indulges corporeally, that his stomach is empty.

Eli is afraid of him.

"Of course I am," Eli says. He's backed to a wall, out of essence, has nowhere to run. His eyes are wide, white in his dark face. "All these years, all these years of you hating me-"

"Hating you!" Salt in his wounds. "I never hated you! That would be wrong, unjust, bias-"

Eli shudders, tears squeezing out of too-wide eyes, not able to look away from Dominic. "Then why were you chasing me?!" he demands. "Why were you chasing me this whole time?!"

Dominic spreads his fingers helplessly, says, "Because you were running," and takes the three steps necessary to catch Eli.

To catch Eli. To hold him in his arms, let him cry himself out.

Eli weeps.