Blackfeather Woods thinking out loud

It did not take long for Cicero to pick up Damien's scent. A shot of adrenaline gushed through his veins when he first found the trail, and he was quick to follow it. Lust had engulfed him as of late, even though Cicero had never been a boy focussed on sexual interaction at all. But it was different with Damien, for Cicero had never loved anyone as deeply as he did his brother. He could not imagine anyone more worthy to stand by his side as lover than Damien. As a matter of fact, the philosopher could not imagine anyone at all to stand by his side but his brother. Theirs was a fated kind of love.

When he found Damien, Cicero could not make out whether he was asleep or just sulking, as he tended to do — as he no doubt had been doing much ever since those fated moments that their love had come closer than ever before to being consumated. Cicero knew Damien too well to fool himself into thinking that maybe there were different reasons that Damien had not been there to sleep by Cicero's side as of late. Cicero's grip on reality had tightened as of late (though he had all but forgotten the days that were missing from his memory and life, he did not fear repeat or the loss of his mind as much as right after), despite the absence of his brother's physical form.

There was a mostly stoic expression on Cicero's face, bar a warmth and longing in his mismatched eyes. The lanky yearling waited not far from where Damien was laying. Though he did not think that words were particularly the weapon of choice to use against his brother's senseless emotions, Cicero had no other presently; to touch Damien right now might elicit the wrong sort of response, and while Cicero was particularly partial to pain, he did not think it would be good for Damien's emotional health. "Love is never wrong, brother." The words were spoken aloud, a tone of sympathy in them, as if he felt sorry for Damien for ever even thinking such a thing. Cicero looked calmly at his brother, although for the first time he could remember, his insides were a raging mess of ugly knots dripping with nervousness.