Watching Ned open the presents has him tangled up with anxiety, concerned that they won't be enough, that somehow they'll disappoint Ned in an awful way, and Ned will have to pretend to like them. But his concerns are assuaged as soon as he sees Ned's response. He can honestly think of nothing better than the smile that crosses Ned's face when he looks at the presents. It's surprised and genuinely happy, and he can tell that Ned actually likes these things, isn't just saying he does simply to spare Ginsberg's feelings or because thanking someone is what you do, whether you like their gifts or not.
"I'm glad you like them," he says, in response to Ned's admission that he has no idea how to respond to this. "I tried to, um, well, I just thought you probably wouldn't mind if I gave you something kind of dorky."
And, indeed, Ned doesn't seem to mind at all, not from the way he's kissing him. Of course he kisses back, all smiles and relief that Ned's happy. As soon as Ned thanks him, though, he somehow feels it necessary to go back to his disclaimers, to make it sound as though he hadn't really put much effort into it at all, even though he'd been working hard on it all day. "Well, the ad could be a lot more polished," he says. "I'm not an art director, so the art is kinda..."
He waves his hand in the classic so-so motions. "I would've written you something, if I'd've had more time. Maybe for your next birthday."
Is it presumptuous to imagine that he'll be around for Ned's next birthday? Probably. And he doesn't care if it is.
"I like dorky," Ned murmurs against Ginsberg's lips, by which he means, of course, I like you. "And I like the art. It's a lot better than I could do." Though he has a rather distinct aesthetic sense of his own, Ned's never been good at drawing things. Ginsberg's self-criticism falls on willfully deaf ears.
As for what he says next, Ned certainly doesn't seem to think it's presumptuous, at least, not in the way that Ginsberg is afraid of. It's not even a question for him that he wants there to be a next year, and one after that, and on. But wanting something doesn't mean it's going to happen. More often, in his own life, it means exactly the opposite. So when Ginsberg tosses out that little, careless suggestion of a future together, it sticks in Ned's chest, jaggedly. It doesn't diminish his elation, but it adds an edge of apprehension. Because Ned knows all too well what a dangerous thing it is, letting himself be happy. Letting himself get attached.
Too late now, anyway.
"Sexiest ever?" he asks, partly to cover up, for himself, that moment of terror that went along with realizing just how much he likes Ginsberg, "That seems like an exaggeration."
He nods, content to stay near Ned, not wanting to pull away. It's the fact that he likes physical contact in general, sure, but it's also the fact that he likes to be close to Ned specifically, selfishly wants to be touching him whenever he can. At least Ned hasn't started complaining about that. He's sure it'll happen sooner or later -- it always does, when people start to realize how needy and clingy he really is, how very insecure and fucked up he is. Ned's been more understanding than most people, but still... can it possibly last?
"Yeah, ever. Do I seem like the type of guy to... okay, well, I was gonna ask if I seem like the type of guy to exaggerate, but I'm aware that I definitely do, and egregiously so, so you'll just have to take my word for it. Sexiest ever. I mean, I'd've thought that whether or not you'd ever asked me out on a date, and I'd've probably come back here and awkwardly stared at you and tried to pretend I wasn't staring. So thanks for asking me out on a date, because you saved me from making a fool of myself. In that way. I'm sure I've made a fool of myself in plenty of other ways."
And yet, Ned's stuck around through all of those foolish moments. In fact, he's even seemed to appreciate some of those foolish moments, ridiculous and awkward as they've been. If Ned could weather one of Ginsberg's panic attacks in a closet, Ned can probably handle most of the stupid awkward shit he does on a daily basis.
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"I'm glad you like them," he says, in response to Ned's admission that he has no idea how to respond to this. "I tried to, um, well, I just thought you probably wouldn't mind if I gave you something kind of dorky."
And, indeed, Ned doesn't seem to mind at all, not from the way he's kissing him. Of course he kisses back, all smiles and relief that Ned's happy. As soon as Ned thanks him, though, he somehow feels it necessary to go back to his disclaimers, to make it sound as though he hadn't really put much effort into it at all, even though he'd been working hard on it all day. "Well, the ad could be a lot more polished," he says. "I'm not an art director, so the art is kinda..."
He waves his hand in the classic so-so motions. "I would've written you something, if I'd've had more time. Maybe for your next birthday."
Is it presumptuous to imagine that he'll be around for Ned's next birthday? Probably. And he doesn't care if it is.
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As for what he says next, Ned certainly doesn't seem to think it's presumptuous, at least, not in the way that Ginsberg is afraid of. It's not even a question for him that he wants there to be a next year, and one after that, and on. But wanting something doesn't mean it's going to happen. More often, in his own life, it means exactly the opposite. So when Ginsberg tosses out that little, careless suggestion of a future together, it sticks in Ned's chest, jaggedly. It doesn't diminish his elation, but it adds an edge of apprehension. Because Ned knows all too well what a dangerous thing it is, letting himself be happy. Letting himself get attached.
Too late now, anyway.
"Sexiest ever?" he asks, partly to cover up, for himself, that moment of terror that went along with realizing just how much he likes Ginsberg, "That seems like an exaggeration."
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"Yeah, ever. Do I seem like the type of guy to... okay, well, I was gonna ask if I seem like the type of guy to exaggerate, but I'm aware that I definitely do, and egregiously so, so you'll just have to take my word for it. Sexiest ever. I mean, I'd've thought that whether or not you'd ever asked me out on a date, and I'd've probably come back here and awkwardly stared at you and tried to pretend I wasn't staring. So thanks for asking me out on a date, because you saved me from making a fool of myself. In that way. I'm sure I've made a fool of myself in plenty of other ways."
And yet, Ned's stuck around through all of those foolish moments. In fact, he's even seemed to appreciate some of those foolish moments, ridiculous and awkward as they've been. If Ned could weather one of Ginsberg's panic attacks in a closet, Ned can probably handle most of the stupid awkward shit he does on a daily basis.