[A moment's pause, and then he slips over. There's still an inch of space between them, a gap that he doesn't yet close, but he's close enough to touch. Close enough he can see the way Bruno's fingers tighten against his legs; the way the emotion in his eyes flickers.]

I like you.

[He says it softly.]

And I think you like me. And that's all that ought to matter. That's all it should come down to. Even if it's just for a day, even if--

[It's his turn to glance away for a few seconds. Words, why does it always come down to words? He's not good at words. But he has to be right now, and so he takes a few seconds try and wrangle his thoughts into some semblance of order.]

I don't . . . I don't want to not start something just because it might hurt someday. That's not a good enough reason. You start letting that kind of thought stop you, what's the point of living at all? What's the point of anything if you're so worried about the future? Maybe we'll only last for a day, you and me, and maybe you're right, maybe I'll regret this years from now. I want it anyway. I want you anyway.