​Castor didn’t look away. Instead, he let his hand slide from Julian’s sleeve to the back of Julian’s hand that was on his neck, his thumb grazing the skin.

"My chest feels tight," Castor whispered, his face reddening even more as he looked up at Julian. "Is that... is that part of the corruption? Every time you come near, it feels like I’m losing my breath again."

​Julian froze. He didn’t need a book to diagnose the look in the boy’s eyes. It wasn’t the pain of holy energy. It was something far more human, and far more dangerous in a city that forbade it. And having those eyes towards Julian... It was impossible.

​"I’ll... I’ll prepare a different decoction," Julian muttered, standing up quickly and avoiding Castor’s gaze. "Rest now."

​He retreated to the small kitchenette area of the suite, his heart still racing. What am I doing? he thought, splashing cool water on his own face. He’s a child. A sheltered, confused child. He doesn’t even know what it means to like someone properly. So why... Why can he make those eyes?

As he looked at his reflection in the silver basin, he realized his own face was just as red.

It’s even weirder that I’m affected by his feelings. He thought. Do I have a soft spot for that child?

It had to be a soft spot and nothing more. After all, he loved Alaric, and nothing could change his heart and mind.

"Okay, let’s calm down first," he took in a few breaths, but just as he took in the third, someone walked into the kitchenette area. It wasn’t Lucius but Castor.

The boy had forced himself to walk, standing before Julian with tears in his eyes and fear in his heart.

"Julian, am I... am I not someone who can love?" He suddenly asked and Julian paused.

"What do you mean by that?" he was a bit confused. "Of course you’re someone who can love, as well as be loved," he searched Castor’s eyes. Those amber pupils were glazed, as if he wasn’t his right self at all.

Castor took another step forward, his legs trembling from weakness, but his eyes were fixed entirely on Julian. The small kitchen felt claustrophobic as the boy crowded into Julian’s space.

​"Then why does it hurt?" Castor asked, his voice cracking. "If I’m allowed to love, why does it feel like I’m breaking? I look at you and I don’t see a Saint. I don’t see a teacher. I just... I just want to be where you are."

​He leaned in, his breath hitching. Julian saw the boy’s gaze drop to his lips, his intent so raw and innocent that it was heartbreaking. Castor was moving purely on instinct, trying to grasp the "connection" Julian had described in the dark alcove.

​Julian’s eyes darted toward the study area where Lucius was hunched over his books. He looked back at Castor, the realization finally hitting him with full force. Castor didn’t just have a crush; he had latched onto Julian as his only source of warmth in a frozen, white world.

​Before Castor could close the distance, Julian’s hand moved. He didn’t push him away, but he firmly covered Castor’s mouth with his palm, stopping the advance.

​"I understand how you feel," Julian said softly, his voice low so as not to alert Lucius. "Because I, too, was once lost in regards to what loving someone meant. And because I didn’t know what I was looking for, I was looking for a light in the dark."

​Castor’s eyes stayed wide above Julian’s hand, tears finally spilling over.

​"But this isn’t the answer to your question," Julian continued, his gaze steady and kind, but firm. "You will meet someone truly incredible. Someone who will change your views of the world. Someone who will teach you everything, just as my lover taught me. And when that day comes, you’ll no longer be lost."

​Julian slowly lowered his hand as Castor’s eyes cleared, the glaze of desperation breaking as the tears tracked down his cheeks.

The boy looked smaller now, the weight of the rejection settling in, but the dangerous volatility in his energy seemed to quiet down into a somber, heavy sadness.

​"Julian," he sobbed, his shoulders shaking. "I feel like you’re already that person to me. You’ve changed my views of this world. You’ve taught me so much that I didn’t know about. You... You are that person to me."

​Julian didn’t hesitate this time. He reached out and pulled the sobbing boy into a firm, grounding hug. It was the kind of embrace that offered a shelter rather than a home.

​"I’m sorry," Julian whispered into his hair, his heart aching for the boy’s loneliness. "But I cannot be that person to you. You deserve someone whose heart isn’t already thousands of miles away."

​They stood there for a long time, the only sound being Castor’s muffled sobs against Julian’s shoulder.

Julian felt the boy’s hands clutching at his blue robes, hanging on as if Julian were the only solid thing left in the world.

​Eventually, the crying slowed. Castor pulled back, wiping his face with his sleeve, looking exhausted but more present than he had been all week.

​"Does it always hurt this much?" Castor asked, a ghost of his goofy smile trying to return.

​"In the beginning? Usually," Julian admitted with a sad smile. "But you’ll learn to outweigh the hurt and see what truly matters. I promise you that."

He was making promises when he didn’t even know what the child’s future would be like. He didn’t know if he was feeding him with false hope, but if this false hope could help put back the smile on his face and make him look forward to another day, then he would keep at it.

​The peace of their isolation lasted for nearly a week.

Castor seemed to have recovered from that whole confession moment. And he was acting like himself again, smiling, rebellious and teaching innocent Lucius how to sneak past the guards without getting seen.

Julian cooked simple meals.

When Castor wasn’t teaching Lucius how to sneak around without being seen, Lucius was telling stories of the North to him.

It was peaceful, so much that they almost forgot they were prisoners.

​That was until the seventh night.