Iris sits with that for a good, solid moment. He lets it settle, lets it process. He had been steeling himself for any sort of reaction — fear, disappointment. Maybe even grief. But what he feels instead is like a little breath unfurling in his lungs. That first deep inhale after too long being submerged.

"Okay," he says, eventually. His voice is a tiny, quiet thing, but this close, Wilhelm would be able to hear it loud and clear. "I'd like that."

That tiny seed of hope takes root, fitting snugly somewhere deep in his chest. He can feel it spreading warmth throughout the rest of him, or maybe that's just the heat of the magma finally becoming oppressive enough to draw out sweat. It would probably make better sense to draw away, let some air circulate between them. But he stays clinging, curled around the other boy's back for as long as Wilhelm will let him.