[There's a moment, when he hasn't stopped because he doesn't want to, not for more than the necessary instants between one kiss and another, when he opens his eyes a little bit, just slightly, and gets a look at Joseph, and it feels like the bottom of his stomach drops out. He's so—]
[A month, Joseph said. It's been a month that he's been thinking about it. How long has it been for him? He was so desperate for closeness before Joseph got here, but only this specific kind, the push and pull that Joseph offers him, safety enough to squabble in, the feel of an arm wrapped companionably around his neck. Since he arrived they've been inseparable, day and night, always close, usually touching.]
[Has he just not let himself think about it? Because what he feels now, the way looking at Joseph makes his breath catch and his heartbeat stutter, it doesn't feel new. Just louder, more present in the foreground. Like it's always been there in the back of his mind, and now he can't ignore it anymore.]
[It's very loud, all of this wanting. Because that's what it is; he wants Joseph, wants him close enough to touch and kiss, wants never to have to stop, wants that look in his eyes directed this way for the rest of his life. He doesn't know if it's the same as love. He's got no idea. But it's different from what's happened before, it's so different, it feels like drowning in that his chest feels like it's expanding, but it doesn't hurt and he doesn't feel in any kind of danger.]
[He wants to ask, How do I know?, but he doesn't. Just moves in quick for another kiss, and then thinks better of it.]
Is it okay?
[Maybe it sounds like is it okay if I kiss you, but that's not what he means. He means Am I okay, is it okay that I don't know, that I'm confused, that I want you so much? Is it okay if I'm not doing this right? Am I really what you want?]
[He really doesn't give Joseph a chance to answer, though, because that's all the patience he's got himself. One second to look, one second to ask, and then he's lunging up for another kiss, needy to make up for too long not knowing.]
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[A month, Joseph said. It's been a month that he's been thinking about it. How long has it been for him? He was so desperate for closeness before Joseph got here, but only this specific kind, the push and pull that Joseph offers him, safety enough to squabble in, the feel of an arm wrapped companionably around his neck. Since he arrived they've been inseparable, day and night, always close, usually touching.]
[Has he just not let himself think about it? Because what he feels now, the way looking at Joseph makes his breath catch and his heartbeat stutter, it doesn't feel new. Just louder, more present in the foreground. Like it's always been there in the back of his mind, and now he can't ignore it anymore.]
[It's very loud, all of this wanting. Because that's what it is; he wants Joseph, wants him close enough to touch and kiss, wants never to have to stop, wants that look in his eyes directed this way for the rest of his life. He doesn't know if it's the same as love. He's got no idea. But it's different from what's happened before, it's so different, it feels like drowning in that his chest feels like it's expanding, but it doesn't hurt and he doesn't feel in any kind of danger.]
[He wants to ask, How do I know?, but he doesn't. Just moves in quick for another kiss, and then thinks better of it.]
Is it okay?
[Maybe it sounds like is it okay if I kiss you, but that's not what he means. He means Am I okay, is it okay that I don't know, that I'm confused, that I want you so much? Is it okay if I'm not doing this right? Am I really what you want?]
[He really doesn't give Joseph a chance to answer, though, because that's all the patience he's got himself. One second to look, one second to ask, and then he's lunging up for another kiss, needy to make up for too long not knowing.]