Henry let out an only slightly hysterical bit of a laugh. There was a space, a chasm, in this kitchen. Henry watched Gansey's hands, Gansey's wrists, Gansey's eyes.

The last time Henry Cheng had seen Richard Campbell Gansey III, they had stood outside Borden house, going their separate ways after Henry had imparted onto him every secret he had to give. This--this looked, this felt, like a boy reborn. Something in him was shifted. Henry remembered Gansey handing him a coffee one time; Henry remembered handing Gansey an iced water at Raven Day.

He crossed the chasm and gripped Gansey's shoulders, brief, assurant. This was so, so real.

"...you weren't here," he said. "But--here you are."