Neal frowns, trying to sort out the dull surge of frustration and sadness that comes with Malcolm’s words.

“He accepted it.” Neal tries to put force into the words, but they still come out like slurry. “He accepted what you felt. It’s his fault what happens after. It’s his fault when he makes a promise and breaks it.”

Neal turns his head slowly, studying Malcolm’s face. Those beautiful blue eyes. “La douleur exquise,” he repeats softly. He goes on in French, not realizing he’s slipped into the other tongue. “Not your fault either. We love as we love.”