Edmund was forced to stop when Francis did, and he turned, worried and confused and -

"What's wrong?"

A hand brushed his cheek, and then into his hair.  Edmund couldn't understand what was happening, just stared at the other man and touched his hand.  He didn't hold it or trap it in his own, just brushed his fingers against it, just to make sure it was really there.

Francis' words were more shocking than the last had been.  Mouth agape, Edmund listened to the man, not sure if he was hearing correctly now.  How did he touch words to make sure that they were real?

"I..."  How is someone supposed to respond to this?  Declarations of love and compliments and challenges, blushes and gentle touches.  Edmund, not for the first time and probably not for the last, felt extremely overwhelmed.

"Francis I'm - I'd - I'd love to - to prove you right, but I'm not - you think I'm handsome?"  Mable had always told him his face was unique, and he'd always taken it as a bad thing.  "I'm sorry, I don't know - I've never done - this - before - Francis."

Edmund was blushing, and it was definitely not from the alcohol this time.  He lifted his hand, wanting to do the same to Francis as had been done to him, but that felt silly somehow.  His arm hovered before landing softly on the other's shoulder.  He still might be brushed off.

"Francis, I'm - really drunk, I don't know about you, but I like taking your arm, but I'm so.  I don't know anything, really, I've never been to school a day in my life and I get angry so quickly, I..." Edmund couldn't count very high but that didn't matter, there was an uncountable amount of reasons why he knew he couldn't, shouldn't be loved, but.  Very suddenly, he did not want to say them out loud.