He's starting to get it. This isn't about making promises or professing anything on his side - the only wrong answer is an immediate one, a knee-jerk. Which he has to admit he feels, but there's also something beneath it, like an extra bit of warmth spreading from their hands and all through his body. Tentatively, he raises the arm on the outside of the mattress, and then sets his hand down on top of theirs.

"Just stay," he breathes, affirming. It's been too much for people to ask before. John Allerdyce is a difficult one to pin down. But their grip is always gentle enough that he can break away if he wants, which seems to be the secret to making him stick around.

He wants to say more, but it'll all hit Connor just as hard and point just as much in the wrong direction. Excuses for why he can't, he doesn't, he isn't. This isn't about Connor at all, there's no flaw there making it impossible; John just is how he is, like anyone else, and that doesn't include falling for guys. Right? That's not something that suddenly changes at eighteen, is it?