[ The fact of the matter is that he remembers what Gale as said as clearly as he remembers the words that had left his own mouth. I care for you, as I’ve not cared for another before, the sentiment's weight diluted in the moment by the ReSculpt running through his veins. But when he thinks of it now, combined with a set of words that nearly knocks him back, it's only you, he feels a surge of warmth flood his chest as though there were blood in his veins once more, filling his body, his heart.

There are three words he thinks in response, but he keeps them to himself, because it's too much, especially now, when he's just had his knuckles rapped for overreaching. But it's the one thing he can be certain of amidst a staggering new uncertainty as to what the future holds for him — a different kind of sunlight to walk in, to grasp even if it means he's being selfish.

Pink colors the tips of his ears, the bridge of his nose; color, amidst how pale he's looked otherwise. His lips press together, failing in an attempt to suppress a smile. In tandem, he stretches out his pointer finger, hooking it delicately under the curve of Gale's. ]

Forget I was ever so sickly, once this is over, [ he says, a shade of his former confidence returning despite the shyness of his gesture. ] I'll never forgive you if you remember me looking like this.