There was a time and a place for conversation, for the ebb and flow of words exchanged. And then there was this moment where words fell by the wayside in favor of movement. It was easy to fall into sync with Kavinsky, to let their bodies press closer and find a rhythm that said everything that needed to be said.

Words were overrated, anyways.

Whatever was in the air kept him feeling pleasantly dizzy, like the best kind of drugs. Just disconnected that everything felt novel while still being grounded enough not to completely lose his shit. One hand slide from its place at Kavinsky's shoulder down to his waist to pull him closer. After everything; this was exactly what he needed.