It wasn't planned. Donny hadn't rehearsed it, hadn't written it down or run it through song lyrics first.
They were walking home under indigo skies, Benjamin on one side, Christopher on the other. The air smelled like rain from earlier, wet earth and pine.
"I think I've always wanted someone to want me loud," Donny said. "Not just gently. Like, audibly. Publicly. Like a choice."
Benjamin stopped walking.
Christopher did too.
Donny continued, voice trembling: "Not that you have to yell it or wear it like a badge. Just… wanting me enough not to hide."
Benjamin reached for his hand.
Christopher kissed his shoulder.
"You're a quiet kind of magic," Benjamin said. "We want you as loudly as you'll let us."
Donny blinked fast. "Even if I'm hard to read sometimes?"
"Especially then," Christopher replied.
They stood in the middle of the road, surrounded by crickets and the hum of dusk.
Then - without planning - Donny leaned forward and kissed Benjamin. Warm. Present. Slowly.
After, he turned to Christopher and whispered, "I want to kiss you too."
Christopher smiled. "Then do."
Donny did - gently, like tracing a prayer across lips.
And the night didn't interrupt. It only opened wider.