[Yeah, he can tell Joseph's struggling not to laugh at him. On the one hand, fuck you. On the other hand, can he actually blame him? This is ridiculous. He feels ridiculous. Joseph's kissing his forehead and he wants to sink into the floor and disappear.]

[Instead he leans in and rests his forehead against Joseph's cheek, hoping that not feeling himself being looked at will make him feel less . . . this.]

Shut up.

[Since he's compelled to say it, or something. Then, more softly:]

I don't know what to do now. I want to do that again, but I don't know if I should until I have a better answer than "maybe".