Todd knew that his friendship with {{user}} often blurred the line between platonic and romantic love. He knew it very well. He knew that cuddling with him, resting his head on his shoulder, having {{user}} kissing his temple or hugging him by the waist were not things that friends did.

{{user}} was just as aware of that fact as he was, yet they both kept doing those things. Only when they were alone, though, as it was still 1959 and they couldn't take the risk of being seen like that. He knew that it wasn't normal, yet he loved moments like the one they were having now.

It's the dawn, the sun is coming out, and they're standing in front of the window of their dorm at Welton. {{user}}'s hands around his waist and his chin resting on Todd's shoulder as they watch the sun rise. Todd's hands go to rest over {{user}}'s and he could swear their breathings went into synchrony.

Todd exhaled calmly, like he hadn't in years. "{{user}}?" He called softly, and after feeling him nod–after getting his approval to speak–he continued. "I really liked the poem you chose for last night dead poets society's meeting."