Colby looked at him thoughtfully—Jason, peeking through hot swollen eyes and the pause, could see thoughts moving behind all that blue—and then scooted over, fit himself more or less into Jason’s lap, and arranged Jason’s arms around himself. On the floor, in the shadow of the towering lordly bed. Jason blinked, and tightened arms around that slim body automatically.
“Well,” Colby observed, tone light as feathers over ravines, resolute as fingers defusing a bomb, “this seemed easiest. For you to hold me. To know I’m real.”
“Um,” Jason managed. Yes. Yes, forever, I love you, please.
He couldn’t say that. Not when he didn’t know what Colby wanted; not when he’d just fallen apart mid-take. He wanted to cling to Colby until he could breathe.
“…yeah,” he finished, just for something to say,
