How did he break it to Uriel? Did he ease his own burden of a life doomed to tying nooses around others legally because he would never have what even their parents to some extent had managed? Did he come out with it, in the height of Oscar Wilde’s fall from grace, that he too might bring down all who love him because of a need to be true somewhere?

Oh, God. Zechariah drew in a breath through his mouth, preparing himself. How much longer could he dance around this?

Oh- oh God. Oh, wrathful, merciful? God. Zechariah opened his mouth, braced when Uriel stabbed himself, and started to reach forward to take the knife from him.

CRASH.

Zechariah lifted his gaze to the ceiling. Merciful, wrathful God.

“Here, let me-” he drew out a white handkerchief and pressed it to Uriel’s hand.

Wow, he was going through a lot of handkerchiefs lately.