[It's a sad answer. Of course it is. It tugs at his heart and makes him feel like a fool at the same time, guilt scratching at him for asking such a stupid, necessary question. Part of him wishes he hadn't, most of him knows he had to, he doesn't know any better way to do this—]
[And then the world tilts on its axis, and he slides, obeying some newfound law of gravity.]
[He doesn't know if it's the wolf. He doesn't know if it's just the wolf. If Steve would actually think something like that, let alone say it, under other circumstances. It's just — this whole time, he's been himself as hard as he possibly can. The wolf is there, but first and foremost, there's just Steve.]
[He thinks . . . this is real. That sentiment, that's real. The desperate need to be close, to reassure, to protect, that's real too. That wasn't supposed to be part of this conversation. He didn't plan for it. He didn't expect it. He doesn't know what to think about it. He feels so safe so suddenly the air feels thin. He would do anything, anything for this boy.]
[Dizzying.]
[He half-turns on his side, one arm coming up awkwardly around Steve's shoulders, the other placed at the back of his neck, fingers burying themselves in the thick ruff of fur there. It's a strange hug, but it's contact he needs right now. He needs to contain and protect this moment, even if he couldn't in a million years articulate why it's so important.]
I know. [Voice shaky, heart pounding hard in his ears, eyes wet — he nods. Fervently, repeatedly. These are the only words he has in this moment, until he collects himself, but all the same they won't stop coming.] I know, I do.
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[And then the world tilts on its axis, and he slides, obeying some newfound law of gravity.]
[He doesn't know if it's the wolf. He doesn't know if it's just the wolf. If Steve would actually think something like that, let alone say it, under other circumstances. It's just — this whole time, he's been himself as hard as he possibly can. The wolf is there, but first and foremost, there's just Steve.]
[He thinks . . . this is real. That sentiment, that's real. The desperate need to be close, to reassure, to protect, that's real too. That wasn't supposed to be part of this conversation. He didn't plan for it. He didn't expect it. He doesn't know what to think about it. He feels so safe so suddenly the air feels thin. He would do anything, anything for this boy.]
[Dizzying.]
[He half-turns on his side, one arm coming up awkwardly around Steve's shoulders, the other placed at the back of his neck, fingers burying themselves in the thick ruff of fur there. It's a strange hug, but it's contact he needs right now. He needs to contain and protect this moment, even if he couldn't in a million years articulate why it's so important.]
I know. [Voice shaky, heart pounding hard in his ears, eyes wet — he nods. Fervently, repeatedly. These are the only words he has in this moment, until he collects himself, but all the same they won't stop coming.] I know, I do.