Broken Boulder youngblood

Alarian paused as Lanawyn spoke, all attention focused on taking in her words now. He found himself wishing desperately that he could believe her; something inside of him refused it. The sentiment behind it offered as much comfort, though, and he felt no need to ruin that.
When her eyes met his, he leaned his head forward just barely to brush his nose against hers, the slightest and briefest contact. He let himself soak in the confidence she expressed, tucking it away inside himself to quell the flood of insecurity that had always dominated his mind. It was relief and gratitude and indescribable guilt all at once; guilt because he could not truly believe her. Guilt because he could not find words now, instead opting to bury his face in her neck fur.
Guilt because he would fail, ultimately. He would fail her.