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Edwin was still frowning at the bed when Andrew wrapped him up in a backwards hug.

“Are you ready for bed?” Andrew asked.

“Not . . . yet,” Edwin answered. He turned to face Andrew. “I need to take off my binding.”

“Oh.” Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Is that a, uhm, a problem?”

“It is. For me.” Edwin reached up to rub the back of his neck. “I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, between our nap on the train and the nap we had here earlier, too, that I like to snuggle close when we sleep. But I’m worried that when or if you feel my chest when it’s not . . . contained . . . it might change things between us somehow. I’m . . . afraid it might affect the way you see me.”

“It won’t.” Andrew placed his hands on Edwin’s hips. “I promise.”

Worrying at his lip, Edwin thought it over.

“I could sleep on the sofa in the studio instead if it would help?” Andrew suggested.

Oh, Andrew was such a considerate man.

“Don’t do that,” Edwin said. “I’d love to sleep next to you.”

Only when Edwin finished saying those words aloud did he realize how true they really were. He really did want to sleep next to Andrew. More precisely, he wanted to sleep next to Andrew without his binding. He wanted to be comfortable. And, equally as much, he wanted to prove to himself that Andrew’s lovely promises were true.

Edwin stepped back and grabbed hold of the bottom of his nightshirt. In one fast motion, he pulled it off and dropped it onto the floor. Afterward, he reached for the knot of his binding cloth, which was tucked near the crook of his arm.

“Do you need my help?” Andrew asked. Pausing, Edwin looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. Andrew cringed. “Sorry. I know you do this every day. It was probably silly of me to offer.”

Sympathy bloomed in Edwin’s chest. Andrew was only trying to be kind, though his offer had made Edwin feel a little like Andrew thought he was incompetent somehow.

Jesus, Andrew really was socially clumsy.

“It is a bit silly,” Edwin said. “But it’s sweet, too.” He refocused his attention on the knot. Once the two ends were free, he began unraveling it and then handed one end to Andrew. “Here.” Andrew moved to take it, but Edwin pulled it back a little. “I’ll let you help. But only because it feels . . . vaguely romantic or something. I’m not sure. Regardless”—he leveled a serious look—“it’s not because I can’t do it myself. And I need you to know that.”

“O-of course,” Andrew spluttered. “I never thought . . . oh, Edwin, I wasn’t trying to imply—”

Edwin held up his other hand, cutting Andrew off. He shook his head, amused.

“Just take the cloth, Andrew,” he said through a chuckle.

Andrew smiled sheepishly as he grabbed hold of the strip of cloth. He began to unwind it, comically circling around Edwin in the process rather than staying in one spot, and Edwin’s heart ached with a fierce fondness unlike any he’d ever felt before.

“God, I love you,” he said with another playful shake of his head as Andrew made a third rotation around him.

Andrew paused in front of Edwin and kissed him briefly on the lips.

“I love you, too, Edwin,” Andrew replied cheerily.

And for a moment, everything was absolutely perfect.

But then Edwin caught sight of his chest—now close to becoming completely visible—and his stomach tightened as a flash of heat moved up the back of his neck. All of a sudden, it felt like the cloth was too tight. Like he was being strangled by the binding, even though it was almost off.

Quickly, he caught Andrew’s hand.

“Andrew,” he said, “I can’t let you continue. I can’t let you see me. Yet. Or—or ever, maybe. I’m . . . not sure which.”

Andrew’s face fell, and concern rippled across his forehead.

“I hope you weren’t feeling obligated to remove it because of me,” he said. “Are you all right?”

All Edwin managed was a nod.