At the hand on his wrist, and the soft sound of his given name, the reminder that there was a choice in this, and it was only his...all the fight, the anger, the energy went out of him ike a popped balloon. Ganymede dropped the glass dish to the floor, sucking in a halting breath.

"...It's you, baby," he whispered, shaking his head and biting down hard on his lip though he didn't look away, willing the man standing in front of him to believe him. "It's always going to be you, Ashley." He wasn't the person to walk away from something unless he had no other choice, and this was nothing more than proof of that: but it was time to admit to himself it was over, well and truly, and there was nothing to be done to get what he'd had back. It hurt in a way he couldn't describe, and he hated it, he wanted to be angry, but he couldn't be right now. Not with the look on his lover's face.

He knew Ashley had been hurt, unbelievably so, by the people who had left him before, had turned away from him for nothing more than selfish reasons, and Ganymede never wanted to be one of them. "You're mine. And I'm yours."