Silvertip Mountain i like your eyes wide

It hadn't seemed possible, but his affection for his friend grew as he proved attentive, invested. The priest's touch kept him slightly breathless; he thought he might never get used to it. Ignoring the warm flutter in his chest, the Mayfair studied Phocion for a few beats before he answered him. His voice came soft, lilting; I hope so— but to me... that's the beauty of it,
He didn't know if he would find the spirit— if he would be saved again, or if they would be reunited in death. Maybe he never did. Cortland paused, slightly overcome himself. He knew he could only dream of such a love in his own life; he yearned fiercely nonetheless. But he was willing to take that risk.
The sunset boy sighed, distant and dreamy; Love is more beautiful in stories. There was no disappointment, no bitterness to his words; Cortland spoke not from experience, but based on assumption. And, well, the fact that he himself had yet to experience anything quite so... intense. He nuzzled into Phocion's cheek gently, breathing a soft Of course, before he turned from him, putting a couple of steps between them. Some unknown feeling drove the action— an unclear but strong certainty that something would happen if he lingered too near. Not something tangible, but within himself— something he wasn't ready for, perhaps.
Though... he shot a single glance towards Phocion, half-hoping the male would close the small distance. Whatever strange thing he thought would happen, Cortland knew part of him wanted it. His gaze fixed, then, on the glittering cave walls; he still remembered clearly the last time he had done something he thought he shouldn't.