For all his nerves, this particular assurance does make Eddy snort softly. The last time he was this close to a boy was a rather disasterous round of Spin The Bottle during eighth grade. Not for lack of wanting. Just, Eddy was cursed with always thinking too much. Even now, with Tybalt right in his ear, thoughts and self-doubts whirl themselves into a cacophany where no single strand can easily be pulled out.

"True," he agrees, unmoving. Wyatt had said once that if Eddy spent so much time thinking instead of kissing, he wasn't doing it right. That seemed true too. But— But—

"Like your shirt," he says suddenly, apropos of nothing at all, and yet it's the one thought he can settle on, fingers twisting up the familiar and beloved NASA logo as he presses his lips with abrupt uncertainty against Tybalt's.