Wouldn’t let it slide.

"Zeke!" Ryan dropped to his knees and almost screamed the same as he had done at that time. Even after eight long years and countless desperate efforts to suppress it, the memory still clung to him like a shadow. The day Zeke fell —it played so vividly as if it had just happened the other day. 

"It's my fault," he whispered, his voice breaking. His chest heaved as the memory consumed him again. His hands trembled, still feeling the ghostly sensation of Zeke's hand slipping from his grasp. 

The guilt he had buried for years came rushing back, raw and unreadable. The present faded away, and he was no longer here; his mind had taken him back to the edge of the cliff. 

He couldn't feel the energy of the current world around him until he felt an arm drape feebly around his shoulders. The touch was startling, and for a fleeting moment, the hope of seeing Zeke again bloomed in his heart.