For a few minutes, or more accurately a dozen, Brendan didn't move, didn't disrupt the content, settled-down feeling that came from every point of contact he had with Poe. He just shut his eyes and breathed it in. Poe was a better person than Brendan deserved to be friends with. It had been a very long time since Brendan got to properly hold onto someone and frankly he was running on fumes emotionally, these days.

Maybe that was his excuse for how, when his eyes opened, he found himself staring at Poe's lips. Manabu had never been big on kissing or making out. It had been centuries, in teenager terms, since Brendan had gotten to properly make out with someone, and Poe was so very not Manabu it wouldn't have the immediate guilt-inducing response somebody else might. Oh, he'd looked at the natives, thought about just banging someone from his school, but they didn't care, not the way Poe did; they wanted to brag about being with an imPort, any imPort, Brendan just happened to be there. Things were different with Poe, and what he needed now was someone who cared beyond him being a 'sexy imPort' who was, for very limited definitions of the word, famous.

He kissed Poe impulsively, hated himself immediately, and so he kissed Poe harder as if that could sear the guilt away from him, burn it off and into ashes, so he could just feel normal for a moment.