[ It's easier to joke about the moon. Joking about the moon means he doesn't have to acknowledge the twisty anxiety that waiting for Locus' reaction brought to life in his stomach. Or the bizarre relief he feels afterward when the confession doesn't blow up in his face. ]

What's wrong with a moon? No one would be able to bother us and you could set up a whole defense network in orbit. See someone coming lightyears away.

[ And that's true! Having Locus all to himself on a whole fucking moon would be grand. Unfeasible, probably. Ridiculous, most likely. But Felix's best fantasies are hardly burdened with realism. ]

A house isn't bad either. The dog could have a big yard.

[ The dog being Leon, obviously. At least, with the cheeky kind of weirdly shy half-grin thing Felix feels his face doing it should be obvious that's what he means. And this, he thinks, is where he should leave it.

Being this open about emotional shit is progress. Easing himself, and by proxy Locus, into it can't be a bad thing. Not after the way they've been living their lives. But the problem with Felix is that once he starts talking, he has a hard time stopping. It's like the words see freedom and make a break for it. ]

It's just, I don't know. [ He doesn't start doodling on the table with his free fingers. He wants to, but he doesn't. He isn't some teenage girl, for Christ's sake. ] I want to keep something for once in my fucking life. I didn't even get to keep my stupid planet.

[ Again, he slants a glance at Locus, like he's testing the waters. And, well... He is. This is uncharted territory, this thing he's blundering pell-mell into. ]

I want to keep you. For good. [ Forever. ] I have since the beginning.