Otter Creek i'm out of control, living a fictional prose

The question went unanswered. There’s brief silence, save for Phillip’s rapid beating heart (he hoped Zephyr couldn’t hear it). The rhythm grows faster as his friend buried himself in the fur of his neck.

The exchanged warmth was nice. Should he feel bad about that? Yes! Phillip immediately thought. Now’s not the time for these feelings to arise. He should be worried, and he is! The fear lays at the pit of his stomach. Zephyr did something wrong, and he was leaving him on a cliffhanger. Even still Phillip doesn’t pry. He’s too comforted by his touch. The calm before the storm.

And the storm soon comes, and it’s not one he could’ve ever prepared for.

”I love you.” Three simple words are enough to put him in shock. You.. love me? he had to repeat them himself to confirm he wasn’t hearing things. When he said it himself, something got caught in his throat and he was to flushed to speak. Even if he were able to, he’d be cut off by Zephyr.

No, i-it’s not stupid. Don’t be sorry. I-I mean- He paused briefly to think carefully (“carefully” as in not at all. Zephyr’s compliments along with everything else made him a mess) about what to say.

Finally he spits it out. Is it true? he repeated, You love me like.. love me, love me? Maybe in the way Phillip loved him.