Michael slowly lowers his hands, looking past them to Wolfgang in disbelief. He’s silent for a few beats, the sounds of the building and the city and their bodies humming in his ears—then he says, cautiously, “Are you talking about real life? You’d really want—you’d want that? I, uh. Oh. Okay.”
This is not something he’d been prepared to discuss, and he’s the one who’s brought it up. Here they are though, talking about living together when neither of them can manage to say ‘living together’ out loud and they haven’t done anything intimate beyond kissing and sort of taking a nap together. Is this how people live their lives? What usually happens here? He feels too warm, nervous, excited, frightened, eager. He doesn’t know what to do.