[ It makes his heart sink, changes Dom's expression and leads him to falter a little, one breath suddenly harder to take than the last. Dom spends so much time calling himself a monster yet craving what it can do; distances himself but lets it be the catalyst for self-hatred all the same. To say he has issues to work out is the least of it, but hearing Theo say that makes them break right back out of the box he so often shoves them into, from force back to hesitation. ]

I'm— I'm not…

[ I'm not it, but to say that would imply he believes it's true. Dom already said too much just moments ago: I want to hurt you. I want to see your blood and know it was me. I want to be the one who takes it from you. He never said it wants.

Finally, pained, guilty: ]

Because I don't remember. [ He leans back down, forehead against Theo's back, hiding for yet another confession. ] I never remember what [ A beat, ] I do, and I don't know what's real anymore. Which one of me is this supposed to be?

[ The one that hurts Theo and savors his blood in the aftermath. It can't be the part of him that's meant to not be a monster. ]