Part of him thinks it ought to remain quiet, perhaps because it might slip through his fingers if he's not careful, like in a story.

He watches Neil, though, Neil who has been with him from his first breath in Darrow, who knows him better than anyone else, and he finds he wants to say it. "I, ah--"

Theon rubs his grin with the back of his hand, and shrugs. "It's not much, perhaps," he hedges, unable to keep from doing it. "I think Daryl and I, we have an understanding, of sorts. I kissed him."