The urge to kiss his cheek, or anything along those lines, is almost overwhelming right now. He's so warm, and the fabric of his strange shirt would be very easily nudged out of the way if he wanted to touch Mercutio's back or chest, and it's not lost on him that they're sitting on his bed. But this isn't the first time his thoughts have drifted to such things with regards to Mercutio, and unfortunately for him he doubts it'll be the last. Worse than this feeling though would be losing Mercutio's friendship, and besides, apparently Mercutio loves fucking Tybalt, so--

"Ah, I ought to change the rest of this outfit," he says, dragging himself away from Mercutio enough to stand.