It wasn't the worst punishment in the world, but Soren didn't want to spend a week in his owl form when so much was going on that he needed to take care of. 

They still needed to go find Rocky's parents and figure out where they actually lived before making a trip down to see them. Not only that, but Soren had been planning on taking his partner out on a date and a weekend vacation before he headed back to college for the semester, which he was dreading with all of his soul. 

Without Rocky, all the sunshine fled his world and left it damp and wet as the rain rolled in. There was no direction. Soren felt lost without him, which was painful to think about because everyone always chattered about having plans for the future and wanting to travel and go to college. But Soren didn't want to see the world or do any of that without Rocky by his side.

He just loved him, totally and completely. As Pablo Neruda had once penned, "I love you, without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you, straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way than this. Where I do not exist, nor you." 

Soren lies sprawled among the sheets on his bed once his parents are done seizing his independence from this vicious mortal world and lecturing him about responsibility. They really had no idea how hard it was being eighteen, or how complicated his life really was. Moaning gloomily at the thought, he stares up at the sun and moon tapestry hanging from the wooden beams of his attic bedroom and contemplates his existence.

There's a soft knock at the door as he's melting in a puddle of despair and it opens a second later.

"Aren't you supposed to wait until I tell you to come in?" Soren asks without lifting his head. 

"You know I hate waiting," Rocky breezily, "How did you know it was me anyway? We have like a dozen siblings and counting."

"Because I know you, Rocklin Moon," Soren sighs. "I know the sound of your footsteps coming up the stairs, the way you knock. Even the air feels different when you're coming like there's a storm outside the window and I'm waiting to be completely soaked."

Rocky hesitates for a moment, as if choosing his next words carefully. Soren knew his partner, and he knew that Rocky could always sense when he was in one of his moods, and to tread carefully. Soren never got angry, but he could be moody, slipping into his owl form for days at a time before returning home.

"I'm sorry about the cows," Rocky speaks finally, "And that we ended up in trouble. I feel like we wouldn't be in the situation if I'd just stayed at college instead of coming home."

Soren pushes himself up at that to stare at Rocky. "What are you talking about?" He asks him, and he rakes his fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face, "Rocky, none of this shit tonight was your fault. Except for the cow thing, but Ethan and his idiot friends were asking for it and you got us out of trouble."

"It's not just that, Soren. It's everything." Rocky comes over to the bed and climbs on with Soren, the mattress shifting when he slides over to tuck himself into his side. "I'm tired of destroying you every time I have to leave for college. It's not fair that I get to chase my dreams and you're stuck here waiting for me to come back like some anguished sailor's wife."

"So what?" Soren asks, and he catches his breath a little when Rocky stares up at him, studying his face. "What do you want, Rocky?"

"You know what I want, darling." Rocky whispers and he slides his hand up Soren's bare chest. His graceful fingers start in the center of his sternum and trace their way toward his throat. But by then Soren's leaning in to kiss Rocky and both of them relax back into bed. 

They kiss like that for what seems like ages, skimming and exploring each other with their hands and mouths, familiarizing themselves with their eager sounds all over again. Then, either Soren or Rocky begins to fall asleep and the touches become slower and more languid. 

"Will you bond with me for the rest of our life, Soren Shay?" Rocky asks him sleepily, his hair splayed across Soren's chest, one hand resting on his belly protectively. 

Soren stops stroking Rocky's back. Bonding was almost the equivalent of proposing in this case, but a bond could be any form of connection given the relationship. It was something that Soren wanted to feel deeply with Rocky, but he was holding back, afraid of stripping his dreams from him and tying him down before he was ready.

"Yes," Soren whispers, "I want to bond with you, Rocky."

But Rocky doesn't hear him, the soft sound of his snores vibrating through his heart.