Patrolling had largely been the most he had done for much of the week. Other than catching rodents near their den, he had stuck to his promise to Takiyok and had not gone beyond the pack borders at all in order to hunt. Much of what he did during the day was attempt to catch up on sleep. Sometimes, he would sit beside the creek to think and daydream, but just as often his thoughts would spinout and he would have to retreat from the anxiety. Moving was what had always kept him sane. Not moving, well, it made things feel much worse.
Hence his patrol. And then, Zephyr called for him, not far behind him. Taikon stopped in his tracks. For a moment, he stared hard ahead of him and let out a lengthy sigh. What could he possibly want? The white prince turned around and went toward the sound, finding the silvery boy there not long after. Taikon bowed his head for a moment, respectfully. The motion was sanitized and dull. Part of him wished that he could greet him with a friendly nuzzle or a lick or...something. But everything was uncomfortable. The boy had even gone so far as to question him and Takiyok as good parent material.
You called? he asked, not meaning for it to sound as cold as it did.

Zephyr had asked for distance, and Taikon had given it as best he could. Now, he wanted to apologize. For what? Emotions? But the prince listened. He had plenty else on his mind. His thoughts spun with the upcoming trip and what it would mean. What would happen to Takiyok if... But that wasn't something he would think about. Such thoughts were of no value.
Inappropriate. Ill-considered. It all felt like shielding, like Zephyr was putting up walls. Taikon frowned. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, he said honestly. If Zephyr wanted to do whatever he wanted to do, it wasn't the white wolf's place to judge. It was his place to listen when it all went to shit, and he worried that now, his strange boy-leader was abandoning even that possibility. It's okay for you to feel things. I wish... but he trailed off, unable to say what he wanted to. The reality was he wanted things to be the way they had been on the mountain, only without the fear of death all around them. The sexual part didn't matter, though no matter how hard he tried, there was that part of him that found Zephyr... irresistible. Yet resist he would always. Taikon dipped his head, feeling guilty, like all of this was absolutely his fault. He just wanted his new friend back.

Zephyr ignored his attempts. It hurt. Badly. More than he would ever admit. His head dipped lower, and he refused to look up toward the boy. There was so much more they could have had. So many more conversations. So much more good. All Taikon could do was nod mildly, pretending he didn't have a voice and what he said didn't matter. He was forgetting all of it. He'd had a head injury. They'd been through a lot together. He'd... found safety because of the pallid male. Suddenly, it all felt like a strange transaction.
I think you want to forget, he said abruptly, standing strong. He felt anguished in a way he hadn't expected. perhaps the distance between them had been as much for himself as it had been for Zephyr. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to accuse. I just.. Why do you insist on treating me like this? Like... a stranger? It all felt wrong. Unnatural. Why couldn't they just talk? Like before?

Zephyr was putting up walls. Maybe, if Taikon had been smarter, he would have been putting up walls too. Walls were the norm. Stay guarded, stay strong. Don't let anyone in. This just wasn't one of those scenarios. He remembered him, him when he thought he was a her, stranded, alone, confused, injured, bleeding. He remembered what he had said on the mountain in anger, in fear. He would not forget. He didn't want to.
Being faithful to Takiyok was easy. And some part of him knew that he just couldn't have it both ways. But when he had allowed Takiyok to choose him, to show herself and for him to see her fully, he hadn't meant to shut out the newcomer. Zooming out, it all felt silly. They didn't know each other very well. Zephyr knew so little about him, and Taikon knew only that Zephyr had been raised amidst a rough childhood and had seen horrors that none should ever have to go through.
"I'm just trying to protect myself."
And then, the truth hit him, and he stood there, dumbfounded, stupified.
What flashed before him was a future that would never be. The prince of nothing saw the silver boy, eying him not with caution and avoidance but kindness and glee. There was love in his cold, frozen stare. It was not what existed then, not really. But Taikon remembered that gaze from the mountain, he remembered the glimpse of warmth, of a summer's embrace and of devastating tenderness.
And so, Taikon nodded, slowly. The harm he felt surfaced as the welling of tears, but he refused to show them, turning his head away. We don't know each other, he said, trying to be cold, but his voice faltered as he said it. He wanted to say more, not to hurt, but to reconstruct the wall Zephyr seemed to want. Taikon didn't want it. It showed. So, what now? Do I call you Leader? Do I call you some title I can't pronounce? Do I never talk to you again even though I want to? He wouldn't look at him. He couldn't.
Takiyok meant the moon to him. But the moon was not everything. There were too many people to care about now, and one of them seemed to willingly reject such care. It burned. He felt it, harsh in his skin, breeding like a leperous anguish, deep within.

The wall-building went poorly. Taikon could hear it, feel it, the tension in Zephyr's voice was palpable. Taikon shifted his weight, shivering a bit before struggling to once again look at the boy. His ears were pushed against his skull. As he struggled to get the words out, a familiar guilt coated the prince with regret. This was all his fault. He'd hurt him. Takiyok had said to give him space, but it seemed that space did little other than make the pair of them completely miserable.
He wanted to comfort him. He started to reach out, but stopped himself, knowing that it could cause more damage.
whatever you want
Taikon shook his head, brow furrowed. It had been so much easier to be angry with Zephyr for being a childish boy-leader. This alternative was impossible. I don't think joint happiness is impossible, he said despite himself, even though he couldn't see the solution. It might not happen right away, and it might not look the way either of us would like it to, he kept going, though he wasn't even sure if the words made sense. The train of thought wouldn't stop; he refused to leave Zephyr in the dirt with this hurt that he had caused. You are my leader, he looked at him, wishing he could catch his eyes, wishing things were different. And my friend. And even if I'm not your friend, I'm not going to let that go. I'll still be here when you need me.
The urge to touch him was so strong, he had to take a step back and force it down. He wanted to apologize, yet he refused to take back what he'd said and done. He'd never meant to hurt. He'd meant every word he'd said on that damn mountain.
You're amazing.