Shadewood Drunk Nights are more fun than Sober Ones

Her voice was soft, innocent, untouched by bias, and almost a wiltless lotus in it's own right. It was a greeting he had recieved, and wanted to rub his heart against, almost like a hug that hed never had gotten from his mother, form his father, from sisters and brothers. She had a noise down deep within her that Cry simply couldn't stop wanting to hit the repeat button on. And that very notion was going to get him in trouble. 
But he couldn't stay away from Kukutux, regardless of it.

An imperceptible gulp dragged his thoughts down his gullet as he tried to hush them. But the horror resurfaced when she yet again, tried to feed him, whipping up a meal with the swift movements of a well practiced nurturer. Something internal began to seeth and seize in him, and that same lump he tried to swallow only lodged firmer in his throat. He struggled to speak, to return her greeting as she yet again brought him goodness, seeming to tell him silently that food and kindness was what he needed in these trying trials of time and love. 
Polar crystals slid to the next plate she had given to him- could he eat this? Without the guilt? Without the breaking pang that was still bleeding in his heart? Without the cloudy haze that she was unnaturally bringing herself closer to him by doing nothing but revealing her customs to him? What he had just had with Gwen...What they had just gone through...it was so much more than mere pieces of food. So he should be able to eat them...
why couldn't he touch the damn plate!

"I'm so sorry, Kukutux." He closed his eyes, settling back on his hinds. "I should not have brought you into that mess. I should not have thought things would simply pearl over with little fractures. But all of it is because I've come to realize I did in fact want to give us children." Cry couldn't fathom why getting this off of his chest would make him feel better. He was someone who usually held the most painful things within. The exact opposite was happening. He cared so much for Tux...but he was giving her the truth. 
"I am lost, Kukutux. I am lost, and frankly," he felt exasperated, but couldn't express it through his face, his face that seemed to keep it's eyes closed and maws as closely locked as possible, only loose enough to allow words to pass through them. Cry was conflicted, and as someone who usually knew exactly what to do from orders from other people above him, being a leader was tough when you found yourself wanting to please everyone. But what did he want? "I find myself being strong for Gwen, for Gwen...But I feel myself being weak around you- and I do not know what that is." It couldn't be love, could it? It couldn't be. And he would tell himself this, and believe this. He would make himself believe this.