"Not just losing your head," he answers-- vehement, suddenly, for all that it isn't irritated. "Dying at all, you're not supposed to-- you can't do that to me, okay? The time I didn't see it, that was... that was different, sort of, but I can't- I can't just watch you die like that, Henry. Not again."

Not when he can still smell copper just faintly if he thinks about it, taste it on the back of his tongue, and the sight of it--

Ryan lets go of his hand and gives him a firm nudge toward the couch.