I hovered in close to Edgar, nudging an apologetic kiss to his cheek. Then, there was Grantaire, and all three of us were tangled up together. Somehow, it never felt awkward, despite there being too many hands and knobby knees and elbows. We just fit, and I was more than willing to make a promise to keep what we had for as long as we could.

My arm around Grantaire's neck, I had a hard time catching my breath, but it wasn't panic. It just felt so fucking big, swelling up in my chest, warm and real and impossible. I choked out a hiccuping laugh, the sound of it a little too close to tears. "It feels kind of different," I admitted, my forehead butting against Grantaire's. If it wasn't different, if didn't matter, no one would bother. If it wasn't a big deal, I sure as hell wouldn't have felt so bitter about the whole thing, a queer kid in nineteen eighties middle America with a single mother, watching a revolving door of men coming and going out of her life without staying.