Ben's heart is racing, and he feels tingly and fuzzy all over, and he's pretty sure it has absolutely nothing to do with the cold. He doesn't even feel it, now. He's warm and nervous and the words ring over and over in his head. I like the idea of kissing you. Ben looks at Cole, the familiar shape of his face, those pale eyes and his cheeks and his lips. He swallows, carefully bringing a hand up, brushing fingertips along the Cole's cheek, his jaw, pushing back a stray strand of that pale hair of his. Ben feels like he can't breathe, in the most wonderful way.

I won't let you hurt me.

There's still something that catches in his chest, a terror that despite what Cole says, it's all going to go so wrong. That his dad was right and there's nothing inside him but vileness and evil, and if he lets Cole get any closer, it will ruin him, and it will all be Ben's fault.

But those echoes and ghosts are dim right now, overshadowed by how close Cole is, how his skin is soft and warm and he's here, just a few inches away, wanting to try kissing, wanting Ben to kiss him. It takes a long time, as such things go, for Ben to gather up the nerve. But that suits in a way, doesn't it? None of this happened as early for him as it did for most. None of it was easy. But that doesn't make it less.

He pulls together all the courage he has, and moves in close and kisses Cole.

It is a very soft and tentative brush of his lips, because he hasn't done this before, hasn't even pictured doing it in earnest before a few days ago. Everything about the moment feels fragile and precious and full of joy. Ben is surprised by it - had his own lips always been so sensitive? How had it never really hit him before now, what an intimate act this is? He shuts his eyes and kisses Cole, does his best not to overthink it and to just disappear into the blinding happiness of it, the incandescent feeling of being this close to someone.

After a few moments, Ben pulls back, dark eyes searching Cole's face, expectant and hopeful and nervous.