Kintla Flatlands [m] so please don't take me for no fool

Both of them could walk away, snip the ties and burn bridges just like that. They nearly had before, and certainly if their arguments continued to thrive so hotly between them, it would be for the better— Kratos knows he’d never get over it, he doesn’t have to experience further heartbreak and agony to do so.
Deep down he knows nothing can be done for the past, and he can ache and hold a grudge for the rest of his life, but nothing could turn back time. He’d wanted to do so, so badly, one other time during his short life—to the point he begged, to the point he’d try anything to forget. But now, he tries to mend in his own weird way, in his proof that Zephyr isn’t unlovable, unwanted, or anything less than perfect in his pale gold eyes that still brim with unshed tears.
“I’m yours.”
Zephyr turns to him, invading space that’s been his ever since their second meeting. A cold nose is pressed to his cheek, and a passionate growl grows in his chest. His own teeth clip at Zephyr’s scruff, tucking just underneath the silver coywolf’s large ear. Be mine. He wants, oh so badly, for that to be true.
But it cannot be, not unless Zephyr makes a choice;
Come with me, leave the Forest behind. Or… stay there. Without him.