Knowing that Harry wants to kiss him, that even in his exhausted, worn down, bruised state he's still something desirable, Neil melts. He doesn't say what he wants, because finding the words are impossible. But he does pick his head up and lift his hands to cup Harry's cheeks and lean in to kiss him.

It's a little desperate, a little broken. But it's also full of trust and permission and longing. Just to feel something good.