[ It does, because as stiff as Siffrin had been at first (reluctant, to let themselves be turned,) they give into the kiss far more easily. Soft, soft, soft. He's always so soft with them, and it aches terribly some days.

(You don't want him to kiss anyone else like this. Never, ever, ever.) ]

I'm-- no one special, [ mumbled against his lips, heart relentless in its pounding, ] or anyone at all. I thought... that if we were just friends, you'd... resent, that I was telling you that.

[ Something unnecessary, something that didn't need to ever come to light. How content Siffrin could've been, yearing after a reflection and expecting nothing in return. So long as it didn't mess up the friendship they'd felt such comfort in. ]