Ethan doesn't know that it makes sense to him, and he lived it. He doesn't know how he did it, can barely remember those final moments without being ripped apart so he never tries to think about it too deeply. He breathes in as his fingers lock with her own, and then breathes out in a sharp breath that rattles in his chest. It's something he is wondering about now if he'd somehow missed it simply by-- by being such an idiot.

He's been such an idiot to never say. He wanted to say it in those last moments.

It makes his own chest ache to think of all the wasted time if she'd-- if she'd felt that way. Ethan's gaze lifts up to meet hers when she pulls in that small breath. "Maybe it all could have been... so different," he says in an aching voice as his hand squeezes her own tightly, and his eyes burn because he doesn't want to walk out that door but he will.

It could've been different, but it wasn't and he doesn't know-- He doesn't know why he didn't say. Ethan should have said. There's nothing he will regret more than the fact he let so much wasted time go by.