Whitefish River tonight i'll have a look and try to find my face again

Honestly, he's having a pretty hard time following Evergreen's words. The touch sets his heart off-beat for a moment, and from there his focus rapidly deteriorates. It sounds like rejection anyway. Surely it's rejection. His stomach twists, veins turning icy as he reaches his conclusion. For a few beats he feels sick. The word hurt hits him like a blow to the face, and then — "I do... like you, River." Wait, what?
He swallows, wanting to question him, but he can't bring himself to do it. The bright ribbon of hope unfurling in his chest brings with it a nausea even more intense than prior, a deep feeling of wrongness. His gaze drops, and he fights the threat of another blind panic. You like me? He asks after a moment, maybe a little too desperate for confirmation. It almost seems too much to hope for.