He didn't lift his head. Nor straighten up. He just sat there, tense, and waiting for the proverbial axe to fall. The first time had gone so horribly, how could this be any different? He didn't feel any better for saying it. Only infinitely more anxious.

He reacted to the touch as if burned. His whole body jerked, and though he didn't pull away, he looked up with far too much hopeful hurt in his face. "You aren't?"

The fingers tightened over his, and he seized the other's hand. Holding it tightly. Like a lifeline he thought he'd never hold onto again. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He didn't want to, in a way. If he believed it, it could be a dream. Right?

"It... You mean that?" It was a stupid question. A really stupid question. But it came out before he could stop it. He looked away for a moment, trying to collect himself. "I -- I do. I do feel that way," he admitted, finally. "I feel it all the time, just thinking about you. And I know -- I know how foolish that sounds, I really do."

He bit his lip. Very slowly, he lifted his head, meeting the other's gaze again. His voice lowered, almost embarrassed. "I like how it feels."