concept: when the boys are alone on the roof at night and andrew makes neil laugh, it’s a high-pitched giggle: all eye crinkles and nose scrunches, hands cupping mouth and shoulders raised. or when they’re in andrew’s bedroom at columbia, neil laughs with his whole body: lightly falling into andrew’s side, a boyish grin turning his cheeks all aching pink, nuzzling into andrew’s shoulder so as not to disturb the others downstairs. or on late-night drives along empty highways, all open fondness painting his features and the gleam in his eyes when the moon catches just the right angle, tongue peeking out between teeth and eyes turning to crescents. it’s the stolen moments in public—soundless laughs and biting his inner cheek in a failed attempt to stifle his mirth. it’s furious joy and that warm aching feeling because he doesn’t have to be afraid to be happy anymore; he has time.