I really wanted to comment on this without addressing the massive amounts of subtext- maybe talk about the pretty art or something, because it is lovely- but I can't. I just keep scrolling up and reading it over again and gawking. Except even in the face of the handholding, the crying, the phallic imagery, (Oh, the phallic imagery) the off-panel embrace and the purple-prose grade narrative ("World of profound empathy?" Really?) and the cathartic bonding, I keep coming back to "Yes... Somehow I knew."
Pull at my heartstrings more, why don't you, Clark. God.