I have not yet determined a name for this

~Chapter Eight~

Despite my exhaustion, little sleep was had that night.

It was like some sort of discovery period for both of us, though especially for Sun—it was made very clear that he'd never experienced any form of intimacy in his life. Understandably, considering his role. He was visibly flustered and shocked into speechlessness by every little ounce of affection and touch, every little expression of the feelings we'd essentially confessed to one another. We still refrained from referring to them directly, at least in the sense of calling them romantic—it was as if that word itself was either foreign or scandalous to him. Maybe both. Regardless, it would have simply been incorrect to claim they were platonic at this point.

Over a course of hours, I transitioned from my seat beside him to his lap, this alone rendering us both flustered messes. You'd think his awkwardness would make it easier for me to remain calm, but it seemed to have the opposite effect in this case, devolving me into a giggly little puddle of infatuation. We cuddled in this position for a little bit, our dialogue nervous and hesitant due to Sun's concerns and my resulting worries. He didn't know what was deemed "acceptable" or "appropriate", as though his job would be on the line if we weren't careful. As though he might actually be harming me somehow, corrupting me in all my innocence. If any corruption was occurring here, it was most definitely his, I was afraid.

Through soft comfort and reassurance, I kissed his fingers again, slowly accustoming him to the act, though he responded similarly each time. I couldn't argue with this; I was the same way, dissolving into a flustered mess each time he exhibited any sort of reciprocation or mere approval of my behaviors. My smile probably never truly evened out.

I had concluded my most recent kissing spree when he spoke suddenly; I was now holding and examining his hand, my gaze soft as I rubbed my thumb against his metal palm. His hands were practically thrice the size of mine—I couldn't rightly determine why he was built with such enormous extremities, but I thought it was cute. My hands looked so small in his, so dainty. I was smiling at these thoughts when it happened.

"Jesse...Jesse," he murmured; it had felt like ages since he'd last raised his voice, somehow. Before now, I never would have known he was even capable of lowering his voice to such levels. "That's nice. I like when you do that."

I glanced up at him in mild surprise. "What, what I'm doing right now?" I asked, still gently rubbing my thumb along his hand.

"No, no...I mean, I like that too!" His voice rose in pitch a little, as if he were worried I might think otherwise unless he specified. "I like all of it! But, but...the, ah..." his mumbling tapered off entirely, and I could tell he was struggling to use the proper word. He lowered his head a little, his cheeks burning fiercely.

"Oh, um. Kissing?" I questioned, unable to contain a flustered smile at this. He really had to make me say it, huh?

"YES!" he shouted suddenly, causing me to jolt a little in his lap. He was so nervous. "Yes, ah, k—kiss—iiiing." He drew the word out, as though he were testing how it sounded coming from him. Either that, or he was afraid of saying it normally, speaking it in its entirety.

I released a quiet, anxious giggle. "I like it too," I admitted, still fiddling mindlessly with one of his hands. "I like it a lot."

"OH!" He was yelling again. "Oh, oh, that's good! Good, good! VERY good! We both like it, yes—"

I was trying and failing to suppress further giggles. "What, do you want more?" He was acting ridiculous, but it was undeniably cute as hell.

His dialogue immediately fizzled out, and he released one of his familiar wheezes, a sign of impending heatstroke, I knew now. Christ, was that really all it took? After a second, he seemed to regain his composure enough to respond. "I, I-I—I mean, are you offering? Is that an offer? Perhaps if so, I could accept—such an offer, I could..." He sounded like he was malfunctioning or something, his sentences muddled and confusing. Obviously, I understood what he was trying to get across, but his words were almost like a puzzle I needed to piece together to form my own response.