Reid's response takes the wind out of Xavier's sails pretty quickly. At first, all he can do is stare. At the way Reid's hair falls into his eyes. At that look on his face. The only thing Xavier knows about Reid Wainwright is that he has a talent for scowling, and, still, seeing him like this makes Xavier's chest tighten and his heart's cadence double. This is not a Ribbonfin built for sustained anger. It all rushes out at once. A heavy, shuddering sigh. Oh, great. How embarrassing. Now this kid thinks he's going to cry. Don't fucking cry, Xavier. Do literally anything else.

The narrowness of their tiny shared space is starting to squeeze Xavier's head. Even if he'd come into this sober, his thoughts would still be slipping away from him. He's stuck here with this guy who - what? Hates him? Is repulsed by him? That's not it.

By Zav's count, there's still about five and a half awful, terrible minutes left in this shitty closet. Xavier's head is stuck on how long five minutes can feel. Skipping, like a record. Over and over. He has to stop it. Desperate, he leans in, placing one unsure hand on Reid's waist - how the stranger at the dance had held him - and tries to kiss him.