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

I feel the same way, Phillip says —
I've never felt this way, Zephyr thinks —
Drifting, a rose-gold nimbus of dizzy giddy delight fitting itself over him, a featherlight crown. I love you too — that's all he really hears for a moment, all that sticks with him, because it's the only thing that matters. The only thing he's ever really wanted with everything in him, the single desire that has persisted from his very first taste of conscious thought. He's only ever wanted to be loved — the normal kind of love, the kind you say aloud, the kind you share with thoughtful gifts and tender moments. It's always seemed like he wasn't made for that, and so he'd settled for the kind of love he thought he deserved.
And now everything is different, and he can't even think clearly enough to pin down all the different ways life has suddenly changed for him with only four words. He steps toward Phillip, burying his face into the other boy's neck fur again, this time overwhelmed by a different feeling entirely. I-I didn't think you would... He mumbles into his fur. The other things Phillip had said float back to him, slowly, words he hadn't quite processed in the moment — but they'd burned themselves into his mind nonetheless. I — He loves me. He wants me.
Silenced by the depth of his own feeling, he presses closer, preening dark fur with tender possessiveness. Mine. The thought comes unbidden, intense, yet... different. Not dark and thorny, but warm, all pink-tinged flutters in his stomach and heart-strings glimmering gold. He pulls away slightly as his preening reaches the other boy's jaw, finally finishing his sentence, voice low. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy. And even if he can't promise forever, knowing what he knows about the ways of the world, he knows he will always try for it.