Theo knew what this tightness in his chest was. He had grown up; he had seen the way people looked at those they wanted to keep forever. He understood the language of devotion now. But as he looked at Alias—perfect, untouched by time, and looking at the world with the same innocent curiosity—a quiet hesitation gripped him.
Does he even know what this is? Theo thought, his fingers twitching slightly against Alias's back. Is a being like him even allowed to feel the way I do?
To Theo, Alias wasn't just another man. He was… different. In a way, he couldn't quite point, but he was very sure of it.
To press too hard, to speak the words of his heart aloud, felt like trying to trap a beam of moonlight in a dusty jar. He was a laborer, a man with dirt under his fingernails and a life built on survival. Alias was… something else entirely.
