Oh. 

Oh my god. 

Sorrel’s cheeks blushed so fucking hard. He felt like he was bright red all over. He felt like a deer in headlights, looking up at Cricket’s sweet eyes, feeling how such large hands can be so gentle on his face. He rested his hand on the larger, paler hand that held his chin. His odd eyes sparkled again, and a few silent moments passed before Sorrel realized he and his shitty body inconvenienced a complete stranger, soiled one of his towels, and… probably made it a bit more awkward..? 

All he could do in response for maybe a solid minute was babble incoherently, until he stopped, with a really dumb smile and some smudged up dry blood on his upper lip, and quickly stated “I uh— we can exchange numbers! I—“ 

The feathered man fumbled out his phone, his face still red and his hands shaking a bit. “Here—“ 

Sorrel read his phone number to the taller man and jotted down his number. He… he didn’t know why, but he still wanted to be with this man some time later. Maybe when his body was a little kinder to him.