Fuck I'm not gonna punch you, K. I just.. I dunno, man.

[He exhales, shifts almost awkwardly as he looks at the other boy, trying to figure out what to say, how to explain, or what would make it better. But before he can get too in his head about it, he moves in closer, curls a hand against Kavinsky's hip and tilts his face into his shoulder. He needs the contact, needs something tactile before he trips into a spiral about it.]

If it's you I'll try just about anything. If that's what you were wondering.

[His tone is a little bit wounded still, but he's at least not pulling away. Even if it's half from sheer force of will.]