[His thoughts are still going a mile a minute. But at least they're not scary thoughts anymore. More excited, more--oh, he thinks, with sudden clarity. I have a boyfriend. Fugo's . . . my boyfriend.]

I never thought about having a boyfriend, [his mouth says, treacherously, out loud in the air between them, as he stares at the hollow of Fugo's throat and goes pink,] because I thought I'd be too busy, and also I didn't like anyone, and also, um, Italy--and I wanted other things, first. But I have one now.

[Hm. That's . . . a surprisingly big thing to think about, in its own way. He blinks, and looks up to meet Fugo's eyes.]

You are my boyfriend now.

[And it's funny, because it's not as though has anything has really changed, exactly, but: he grins a little all the same.]