Kerr frowned, startled to have the conversation turned back onto him when he'd expected Ben would be ready to leave. It made him uncomfortable because he wasn't his focus and he didn't want to make tonight about him - but he wasn't about to deflect Ben's questions, either.
"I succumbed," he admitted, guilt flaring and eating at their blood bond. "I didn't usually have a choice but to. I just... didn't stay there. I regretted it, I tried to make up for it, I moved forward. I knew when I did wrong. I was sorry. But balanced... ? I don't know that I was, until I met you. Not properly. I was always in turmoil before that, fighting his darkness and my own. This beast can be ravenous and all-consuming, if you let it," he said sadly, tapping his sternum.
He shook his head, his expression sorrowful. "If there's a cosmic scale weighing our misdeeds, I'm definitely in deficit. I don't know that I'll ever compensate for the things I've done, I doubt it's possible. But I'm trying. I think it's all we can do. Acknowledge our weaknesses, do the work to counteract them, try." He shrugged, looking at Ben with a raw expression.
Kerr wanted to tell Ben that he was fine just the way he was, that he was beautiful in his mixed up ways and so was his exploration of himself. It was on his face and in his heart; hopefully implied in his words, too. He reached forward and kissed Ben's forehead, his head resting at the back of his neck. You're good enough, his gesture said, and nobody's perfect.