The Sunspire i don't see red 'cause

Taikon's words are a jolting reminder, another reason to feel guilty about this whole thing. Still, Zephyr appreciates the reassurance he offers; he hadn't expected it, had only offered the information as an explanation, a reason why he didn't want things to happen this way. Such feelings have become a part of his every day life, but that doesn't mean he likes it. It makes him feel a little better to have it confirmed out loud, though he isn't thinking about that now. Instead, he's kicking himself.
Oh, shit — I forgot about them, His voice is anxious, guilty, exposed in a way few wolves get to see. Yet he leans into the touch anyway, soaking up all that he can get while the moment lasts. There's a feeling swelling within him, something he can't quite place. All he knows is that he suddenly fiercely wants to make Taikon smile, to protect him from any harm that may come, to be able to press into his touch any time he wants. It's a startling feeling — and the strangest part is, he feels no possessiveness with the thought. He would not want to try to stifle such a bright soul with something like ownership. For what Taikon has given him here, Zephyr realizes he won't be able to help but return it tenfold. No matter where their paths lead from here, together or apart, he'll always need to be there for him now. He can feel it in his soul, in those glowing summer threads the pale wolf has already woven into its center.
We should go back. I think we went far enough. Sorry I got us so... distracted. He offers a sheepish half-smile, trying to cover the abrupt depth of his feelings. For once, he isn't very good at hiding it.