As Sulu stepped over him, Ianto wanted to reach out and grab him as he passed, reach out and grab on and never let go, but he didn't move, he couldn't move, and then his chance was over and Sulu was out of reach and he was talking to him and... Ianto never wanted to hear Sulu's voice sound like this. Terrified and tired and irritated and it was all because of him and he couldn't take it back, couldn't do anything to fix it, because what if there was nothing that could be fixed?

Ianto couldn't move, couldn't will himself to get up and follow Sulu into the kitchen, couldn't make himself stand and pretend that everything was alright because it clearly wasn't, and maybe he'd be able to pretend later but he'd just spent the day to himself alone and aching and so bloody terrified that keeping up appearances would be nothing more than a sick joke. Unbidden, a sob worked its way up through Ianto's chest, and before he had any control over what it was doing, strangled, muffled against his knees but audible nonetheless, it ripped it's way up his throat and through his mouth. Ianto brought his hands to his face, covering it as another sob started to work its way out from where the first one came.