a/n: As per usual, I'm very sorry for the extensive delay. I fought with this chapter for a very long time, because none of the endings I wrote felt… right? Anyway, out of everything, this was the most satisfying to me. I hope you'll agree!

Slaine had been home for over two weeks now, and with every passing day he felt himself growing a little stronger. This new year would hopefully bring them all good fortune, though he was not about to assume anything. Still, he had decided to hope for the best, and accept the worst if it came down to it.

This particular morning had been a rather strange one. After breakfast, Inaho had completely forgotten about the usual therapy routine, and then would not let him leave the room, insisting that he read or do something leisurely of that nature. Not that he was complaining, but it was… strange.

"What are you staring at?" Slaine glanced up from his book, noticing from the corner of his eye that the other had been looking at him for some time now.

Inaho put down his tablet and sat up. "Your hair. Maybe I should cut it, it's getting a little…"

"Out of hand?" Slaine finished unceremoniously, and gathered some with his fingers, holding it up before his eyes for closer inspection.

"I was going to say 'long,' but-"

"But you were thinking something like 'unkempt', weren't you?" Slaine looked at him sidelong and smiled a bit. He hardly bothered with his hair these days, and he was aware that it often looked fairly wild. That is, until Inaho couldn't take it anymore, and combed it out and tied it back for him, which may not have begun as Slaine's goal, but certainly ended up as such.

"I was not," Inaho denied. He crawled off the bed and opened a drawer, presumably in search of a pair of scissors, because there was never a better time than the present to do these things, apparently. "Honestly I'm surprised they didn't lop it all off at the prison, generally hair is just in the way with critical patients."

Slaine shrugged. It had been past his shoulders for so long now that he hardly remembered what it looked like short. Since coming to the Kaizuka's, Inaho had seemed reluctant to cut it for whatever reason. Perhaps he lacked the confidence and didn't want to admit it...

"Are you sure you know how to cut my hair?" Slaine queried one last time as Inaho sat him down on a stool in the bathroom.

"No, but you've got plenty to work with if anything goes wrong."

Slaine's shoulders slumped. So much for not admitting it. If Inaho was openly uncertain, he was done for. "Do your best…" he said resignedly.

At least Inaho was precise enough to stay clear of his ears and eyes. He could still remember the dreaded haircuts he received amongst the Martians - a comb yanking at his scalp, scissors quickly shearing through both hair and anything else that happened to be in the way, which on several occasions nearly included his eyes, into which the clippings inevitably fell regardless - the moment he had seized some measure of status, he had eliminated haircuts altogether, though he might have entrusted the task to Harklight if it had seemed important enough. In prison he'd only received one, which while slightly better in terms of discomfort, was visually downright awful. Not that he'd had anyone to impress in solitary confinement.

Slaine found himself closing his eyes contentedly as Inaho gently untangled his hair and combed it out. "So… has she said anything to you?" he asked casually, foregoing the usual beat around the bush while he had a captive audience, sans eye-contact, and heading straight for the question that had been sitting in his mind for several days now.

Inaho set down the comb and took up the scissors. "You mean Inko? About you?" there was a short pause before he continued, "Not really. She probably needs some time to process. You're not quite what people expect. Anyone would likely expect you'd appear-"

"Less pathetic?"

"More dangerous," Inaho corrected, placing his hands on either side of Slaine's head and gently turning him to face forward, "but if you want to put it that way, yes."

Slaine sighed inwardly. There was nothing quite like the calm, reasonable validation of a self-depreciating comment. If his intent had been to provoke assurance or flattery, he would never find success with Inaho, not that way at least, though truthfully he found that cruel honesty reassuring in and of itself. He might have uttered a sarcastic "thanks" in response, but Inaho was already speaking again.

"In any case," scissors snipped methodically somewhere to the left of his ear, "you've been interrupting me a lot today."

"It's because you're being weird today," he retorted, aware that his reasoning was vaguely relevant at best, but continuing with it anyway, "Why can't I go downstairs?"

The pause was a little longer than necessary. "You should take a break and rest sometimes. Besides, there's better lighting up here for cutting your hair."

Avoidance again. But that was true, they almost never opened the downstairs curtains, in case any prying eyes took notice of Slaine. Yet there was also the fact that aside from brief, light exercise, he did nothing but rest these days… Inaho would not even let him help with the chores yet, since dust and cleaning chemicals would aggravate his lungs. So why the sudden forced total relaxation…?

"Done." Inaho brushed the bits of hair from his shoulders and neck, and then rummaged in a drawer for a hand mirror.

Slaine held it up to assess the damage, ignoring the gaunt visage that stared back at him and trying to focus instead on the soft fringe that now framed his face. "Ah…" he ran his fingers through it ,"you left quite a bit of length, after all." Even so, it was off his shoulders and felt lighter and healthier.

"It's better if you're not extremely recognizable," Inaho dismissed as he put away the comb.

Slaine turned his head from one side to the other, examining Inaho's handiwork. "It looks good. Thanks."

"Mhm. Well, I'm going to go make lunch."

"I'll come with you."

"Actually…" Inaho hesitated, as though he was searching for words, and then glanced down at his phone.

"Inaho, I just want to stretch my legs a bit. Believe it or not, light exercise actually does make me feel better overall."

Inaho gave him a long look, and then nodded. "Alright."

Usually when dealing with the stairs, Inaho was right there to make sure he didn't fall. Today, he went on ahead without a word, vanishing around the corner and leaving Slaine by himself three steps from the top.

"Inaho?" Slaine called after him, clutching the rail. "Inaho…?" Receiving no response yet again, he carefully began hobbling the rest of the way on his own. "For the love of…" he wheezed, pausing on each step to catch his breath and nearly tumbling to his death twice.

He was not halfway down when Inaho appeared again. "Someone was at the door," he explained briefly, taking Slaine's elbow and helping him with the remaining steps.

"Oh? I didn't hear anything. Who was it?"

"Just the neighbor."

Slaine stopped for a moment to rest on the landing. "The neighbor?!" During his entire stay at the Kaizuka's, he had not once heard of the neighbors actually interacting with the siblings, at least not coming to the door. "What did they want?"

"Eggs, for their…" Inaho paused, and cleared his throat, "It doesn't really matter. You're asking a lot of questions today. What do you want for lunch?"

Ignoring the distinct feeling that he was being enormously and brazenly deceived, for reasons he could not fathom, Slaine put some consideration into their forthcoming meal. "Anything you make is fine," he answered at last, realizing that he didn't particularly care so long as it was not soggy toast again. And apparently Inaho had just given their eggs to the neighbor, so there was no danger of that particular nutriment appearing on his plate today.

Upon entering the kitchen, Slaine was met with the full explanation for that morning's strangeness. Standing in the middle of the room was Yuki, wearing perhaps the brightest smile he'd ever seen, and in her hands was a plate containing a small, round, chocolate cake, aglow with blue and white candles. Before he could say a word, the two siblings wished him a very warm 'happy birthday' and Yuki urged him to make a wish and blow out the candles. Slaine simply stared at them in bewildered, overwhelmed silence.

"You did get the correct date, right Nao-kun…?" Yuki whispered anxiously to her brother.

"Of course."

As the shock dissipated and he realized he was not responding properly, Slaine managed a tentative smile. "I'm sorry..." he began hesitantly, "you just really surprised me." He then closed his eyes, per Yuki's eager instructions, and as if to make up for twenty years of wasted birthday wishes, he poured everything into this one. A simple, selfish wish, that this spell he was living under would never break.

While Inaho helped him to his chair, Yuki set the cake on the table. "We were going to wait until tonight," she explained, "but Nao-kun suggested now might be a better time, since you were starting to catch on."

"I had no idea, actually. I've not exactly celebrated... this day before, so I didn't consider anything like this." That, and the fact that he'd completely forgotten about it. While not thinking much on it to being with, he'd also done his best to obliterate his birthday from memory in past years, two of which had been spent not only completely alone, but behind bars. He suddenly wondered if Inaho had known this date back then. Not that he would have accepted birthday greetings in those days - he certainly would have thrown any well wishes back in Inaho's face at the time.

"What?!" Yuki fretted, "Oh my god I should have bought a professional one." She regarded the modest, homemade cake with no small amount of disdain in her eyes.

"Yuki-nee, this one is fine."

"It's perfect," Slaine agreed, "Thank you."

In her sheepish excitement, Yuki nearly stabbed a knife into the cake to serve it up when Inaho stopped her. "Lunch first, Yuki-nee."

"Ah, right."

As they ate, Slaine's gaze kept wandering to the cake, which sat temptingly before him at the center of the table. Its fluffy frosting spread carefully in soft scallops, the tall candles set amongst a cluster of little strawberries and whipped cream...

"It's not going anywhere," said Inaho, apparently noticing his distracted gaze, "Eat your lunch."

"Nao-kun, he's turning twenty-one, not one," Yuki reminded with her mouth full, "he can eat cake for lunch if he wants."

"Not in his condition."

Slaine picked up his fork and returned his attention to his plate. "I was just admiring it. It's really nice, Yuki-san."

"Ah, Slaine-kun… I've been meaning to say this for a while - you can just call me Yuki-nee if you like."

"Is that… really alright?" Slaine looked automatically to Inaho, perhaps for some kind of approval, but Inaho was unusually preoccupied with his food.

"Mmm," Inaho pondered aloud right as Slaine was about to politely decline, "I'd adopt you, but you don't have any papers anymore. And I suppose Slaine Kaizuka-Saazbaum-Troyard is a bit of a mouthful..." he added pensively.

Slaine grimaced at the name. "I think I'd just drop the Saazbaum-Troyard," he muttered, whilst processing the first part of what Inaho had just so casually said. Adopt...?

"Aren't those important to you, though?" returned Inaho.

"Nao-kun," Yuki interjected at last, "I think I'd be the one adopting him, not you. It would be kind of bizarre if you were his dad. And anyway, when unrelated adults around the same age become family, share a home, and take the other's name, it's usually called marriage, not adoption."

"Aside from the arguably important aspect of romantic and/or sexual interest, that's a valid point," admitted Inaho, apparently unphased by the intended implications of her words or, for that matter, the blatancy of his own, "Though this is all rather immaterial to begin with. Documents have nothing to do with the fundamental constitution of family."

"Ahh, this reminds me..." Yuki said to herself as she pushed back her chair and got up from the table, before vanishing upstairs.

Slaine looked across the table in confusion, but Inaho was absorbed with his plate again, chewing thoughtfully. It was not long, however, before Yuki returned, very obviously hiding something behind her back.

"Here, for you," she smiled, holding out a small wrapped package. "Go on, take it!"

Slaine reached out in amazement. As if the cake wasn't already enough…

"You didn't need to give me anything..."

"I wanted to. No rejecting allowed!" she declared.

Setting the package in his lap, he simply admired it first. By the way the pretty blue paper was crinkled, and torn a bit at the corners, and taped a little too much on the sides, he knew that she had wrapped it herself. She had also gotten rather carried away with the ribbon, and he fought with it for a good minute and a half, until eventually Inaho brought him a pair of scissors. Then he carefully undid the corners, revealing a box.

"Is this…"

"I thought you might like to take pictures! It's instant, so you don't have to worry about a developer handling the photos if you want to print some."

Slaine thanked her repeatedly, almost confusedly, as he took it out of its package and carefully turned it over in his hands. He had never operated a camera himself, not that he could remember, but it seemed simple enough. A few minutes of fiddling with it, along with some assistance from Yuki and unwarranted advice from Inaho, was enough to get the gist of it. Now to test it out. The perfect victim was sitting right across from him, chewing rice. He lifted the camera, centered and focused, and then snapped his first photo. Inaho was not amused.

"Yuki-nee," Inaho turned to his sister, "I've been wondering, what about our conversation earlier reminded you of this?"

"Oh! I almost forgot. Let's all three take a picture!"

That evening Yuki treated them to a delicious dinner, which she slaved over for the majority of the afternoon with only minimal mishaps. Slaine had tried to dissuade her from making a big deal of it, but she had insisted, and refused either of the boys' help with preparation, saying they should relax and have fun today. Afterwards, they spent an hour or two lazing about in the living room together, until eventually Slaine went upstairs for his bath. He soaked for an inordinate length of time, eventually emerging from the bathroom wrapped up in a robe, feet tucked in warm slippers, and shuffling his way at a snail's pace to Inaho's room.

"You need to dry your hair better," Inaho chastised the moment he walked through the door, pulling the towel from his shoulders and dropping it over his head. "You'll get sick. Hold on, I'll get the hairdryer."

Inaho had taken to blow-drying his hair every day, because no matter how well Slaine patted with the towel, it was never quite dried to the proper standard. Chills were, in Inaho's estimation, perhaps the most fearsome threat to physical well-being imaginable of those encountered during the course of daily life. Though it was also true that to Inaho, cold in general was a curse he would not even wish upon his enemies. Once Slaine's hair was thoroughly free of any and all dampness, and thus a second onset of pneumonia successfully averted, Inaho wandered in the direction of his closet. He rummaged briefly, nearly vanishing amongst hanging shirts and sweaters, before emerging once more, closing the door, and returning to the bedside.

"Here," he said simply, holding out a small potted plant.

... another one? Though in truth Slaine would love any number of houseplants. "You kept it in the closet?" he asked in disbelief, completely forgetting to accept the gift properly. Not that it had been presented properly.

"Yuki-nee really wanted today to be a surprise… and you're so nosy, there was nowhere else to put it. Plants don't die in such a short period away from sunlight, it's fine."

Regardless of its recent captivity in the depths of Inaho's closet, this one appeared far less mangled than the one he'd received at the prison. There were no blooms, however. From the leaves, it appeared to be some kind of begonia, but it was difficult to tell. He poked around a bit in the dirt and leaves in search of a label card. And then laughed once aloud when he found it.

"What?" asked Inaho, somewhat mystified.

Slaine lifted the card. "I'm guessing you didn't see this, did you?" It had been buried pretty well in the pot. The flowers pictured were… orange. Very orange.

The way Inaho's expression changed, Slaine almost felt bad for mentioning it. Especially when Inaho reached out to take it back. "Oh. I'll exchange it for another..."

"No!" Slaine held it protectively. "I want this one." It was true. He really didn't care about the color - this was the one Inaho had picked out for him. Probably because it was the greenest, and therefore healthiest, and the pot was sturdy and in good condition. Maybe it had even been on sale. That's why it was the one he wanted, the gift was so very like him. The color was just ironic; it almost made it better.

Inaho seemed to think otherwise, as he reached for the pot once again. "I thought you hated orange."

"I do," Slaine smiled, swatting him away.

Inaho regarded him for a long minute. "You don't make any sense," he announced at last, and then opened a drawer in his desk retrieve something from it. "Anyway, I got this too, from the shrine on New Year's. It's good luck, I suppose." He handed Slaine a small charm.

"You suppose?"

"Well, if you like that sort of thing. Either way, it's well -made and the material is good quality. It should last the year."

"You're so strange."

Inaho's bow furrowed faintly. "I don't need to hear that from someone who's been sniffing a flowerless plant."

Ignoring Inaho's commentary, Slaine breathed in deeply, letting the scent sink in. "It smells like... Earth... it's nice."

"And fertilizer, I assume. Don't inhale too much, it could irritate your lungs."

At last Slaine gave up the plant, in exchange for the second present, and Inaho set it on the desk. Slaine wasn't much for believing in good fortune and divine protection anymore, at least not for himself, but the gift was surprisingly thoughtful for Inaho. Especially since he must have thought ahead and gotten it over a week in advance. Slaine closed it in his palm and smiled. "Thank you."

Inaho nodded vaguely. "How about a game of chess before bed?" he suggested, though he was already retrieving the box without waiting for an answer.

Slaine went ahead and claimed the side of the bed with a wall and pillows so that he could recline comfortably. As Inaho opened the board and placed it between them, Slaine pulled a spare blanket over him and huddled into it. "Are you going to let me win because it's my birthday?" he queried with a skeptical look. After today's events thus far, nothing would surprise him.

Inaho set the pieces out one by one. "If that's what you want…"

"Of course not! I'm going to defeat you fairly. You'd best not even think of going easy on me."

"Likewise..."

Slaine glanced up at the downturned face across from him. They hadn't played much at all since he returned home, perhaps because of the unpleasant memories associated with a particular match in the recent past, but all the same the pastime was a sort of constant between them. It almost felt as though they had been playing chess together long before there was an actual board, with tangible pieces that fit in one's hands, and where the lives at stake were not warm, breathing people. In any case, lately Slaine had won more often than not, but it generally depended on how Inaho's day was going. It seemed there would always be something that put one of them at an advantage. In truth, there was nothing fair between them, there never was. But today, for the first time in long while, Inaho seemed in a frame of mind to prove a formidable opponent once again.

"How about we raise the stakes this time?" Slaine suggested, if only to give himself an extra boost of motivation. "Just to change things up a bit…"

Inaho set the empty box aside. "Raise the stakes? How?"

"Mmm… how about, loser has to fulfill a request for the winner." It was the best he could come up with on the spot.

"Alright, sounds simple enough. Any rules on requests?"

Slaine raised an eyebrow. "Why would we need rules?"

There was a long pause, during which Inaho seemed to be debating whether to say something, until finally he simply nodded. "Right. Let's play."

Slaine was unsure whether he'd just raised the stakes even more by eliminating a mysterious safety net, or if he'd managed to establish some new level of trust between them. Either way, he was suddenly rather less confident than he was a minute before. And with good reason, as despite his best efforts, along with a fair amount of desperation whenever he recalled just how little he actually trusted his friend in these kinds of petty situations, it took Inaho approximately an hour and a half to win the game.

"Uuuugh," Slaine groaned, pressing his fingers between his eyes, "My brain hurts."

"This was your idea," reminded Inaho mercilessly.

"I know. So, what's it going to be?" Not knowing what on earth he was afraid of, because really there should be nothing he was unwilling to oblige (but why did Inaho ask about rules?!) was weirdly unsettling. He tapped his thumbs in agitated anticipation.

Inaho's hand hovered over his pile of captured pieces as he paused to speak. "I request that you make a request."

"What?" Slaine leaned forward reflexively, "Why did you even win then…"

"I promised I wouldn't go easy on you. You set no other rules, so this is allowed."

"True... okay," Slaine relented lamely, and then thought for a bit. He had been so focused on keeping this request from Inaho that hadn't actually considered what kind of thing he would ask for were he to win. "Take me outside tomorrow. I want to see the snow before it's gone."

"No," was Inaho's swift and flat reply. "You can see it from inside."

"It's not the same." Looking out of the window was only slightly better than looking at it in a book. He'd seen and touched snow before, both in his childhood and in more recent, less favorable circumstances, but it had been a while, and he enjoyed it regardless. It was beautiful, and quiet, and melancholy. And though it was also painfully nostalgic, there was something hopeful and pure about it. He was likely thinking too much into it, but now that he'd set is mind on it, he was determined to have it. He settled his chin further into his palms. "You're cheating! You have to-"

"I don't care," Inaho cut him off crisply, "I'm not risking your health over a game. Besides, I won."

"You can't take it back now," Slaine bristled, eyes narrowing, "Just for five minutes…"

"No."

"Sixty seconds."

Inaho closed the chess board with a snap. "If you mean a minute, say a minute. You're only trying make it sound like less time than it is."

"Fine, I'll go on my own then, I don't need your help," Slaine muttered, falling back somewhat dramatically against the headboard.

Inaho looked infuriatingly unperturbed. "Don't be absurd," he said evenly, and rightfully, because Slaine was fully aware that he was, in fact, being absurd. He was in no condition for January weather. Inaho set the chess box on the floor and folded his hands in his lap. "Can I do something else for you?" he asked, looking Slaine squarely in the eye, and for a brief irrational moment Slaine wanted to slap some form of visible emotion onto the other's face with the full force of his right palm. Of course Inaho had seen right through his fumbling bluff, and if not for the sincere care behind his reasoning, Slaine would likely have headed for the door right that moment just to spite him. And, perhaps, to prove to himself that he could still do some things on his own. As much as he craved Inaho's presence, this physical dependence was rapidly getting old.

"No. Forget it." Slaine dragged the blanket over him and pouted out of view. He had been spoiled rotten today, something he did not and would never deserve after the kind of life he'd led before now, no matter what kind of notions the Kaizukas might put in his head about his inherent worth, and he wouldn't let Inaho see his childishness now, even though it was probably very obvious despite, and perhaps because of, his efforts to hide it. The bed moved as Inaho crawled up beside him, and he automatically gripped the blanket tighter, as if he possessed the strength to prevent its being torn away from him.

"Sixty seconds," said Inaho, and Slaine was surprised that the other did not try to pull back the covers, "You should be able to take a few pictures in that time."

Feeling slightly mollified, though still vexed and a bit guilty due to the means through which he'd achieved this victory, if something so obviously remaining on Inaho's terms could be called such, he bent back the blanket a tad and peered out. Inaho's attention seemed occupied with the window - perhaps he was internally lamenting the outside temperature and the effect it would have on both of them tomorrow - and he was sitting on his heels, arms relaxed at his sides. Slaine had once noticed that Inaho seemed rather sensitive in the mid regions, very subtly shying away from any direct contact to his sides and stomach, and now he was sitting exposed and unsuspecting. Before Slaine had properly considered the several possible very bad outcomes of his next actions, he had snaked an arm out from under the blanket and, extending his hand, ran fingers lightly up Inaho's side, right under his shirt. Inaho inhaled sharply and lurched away. But Slaine was not about to stop there, and continued in his pursuit, tickling anywhere he could reach while Inaho writhed and crawled in a weak attempt at escape. It was an unfair match, because Inaho was forced to be cautious and gentle in the midst of his torment - his level of control was admirable - while Slaine could do whatever he pleased with no consequences whatsoever. He hadn't intended to continue quite this far, but he could hardly help himself when Inaho looked so marvelously shocked and desperate, and best of all was making the most frantic noises. Eventually he seemed to have reached the end of his rope and Slaine felt hands clamp onto his waist and hold him tightly as they rolled together, and he was thrown flat on his back. Slaine relinquished his attack as he was pinned to the bed, coughing with his own laughter and wincing at the pressure of Inaho's weight bearing down on his wrists.

"You're... ruthless..." Inaho panted, an incredulous look in his eye.

Slaine responded only with a wicked grin. It had all been supremely satisfying, he would definitely be doing this again. After a long, distrustful stare, Inaho cautiously crawled off of him and Slaine rolled onto his stomach, trying to inconspicuously stabilize himself with deep breaths, but coughing nonetheless. Inaho made no comment on it, though out of the corner of his eye Slaine saw his hand reach out on reflex, and then hover uncertainly over his back as though he couldn't make up his mind whether a firm patting would help or hurt. Eventually he withdrew it, and cleared his throat.

"That was dangerous," he said in a considerably more collected tone, "What if something had happened? I could have hurt you."

"I knew you wouldn't," Slaine lied. Inaho was, as usual, very right. But all's well that ends well - no need to mention the true extent of his recklessness now. "Give me six months - I'll be stronger than you," he added, both to change the subject and because he meant it.

Inaho's eyebrows raised a hair. "Is that a challenge?"

"A heads-up."

Inaho gave a soft "hmph" and leaned back against the wall. A peaceful quiet settled between them, as neither had anything more to say, and both were too relaxed to move from where they were. Some time later, Slaine was preparing to turn over when he felt a hand brush over him and gently press along his shoulders. "You're a little tense, do you want a massage?" asked Inaho, out of the blue.

Taking the abruptness of the offer in stride, Slaine remained in his current position and nodded lazily. "Mhm…" he murmured, already quite comfortable and very open to anything that might make him more so.

"This will be a little cold," Inaho warned a few minutes later before pouring lotion over him.

Slaine tensed slightly. Frigid was more the right word. He was surprised, however, that Inaho's hands were actually warm for once. Had he warmed them at the sink when he went to get the lotion? Soon the cold sensation was gone, and he relaxed under the soothing circles Inaho was working into his back. After a few minutes, the fingers slowed gradually, at one point grazing so lightly they sent chills across his skin, and began distractedly tracing the map of scars imprinted on him.

Shifting a bit, Slaine glanced back over his shoulder. "You don't need to be so gentle," he said, in hopes of drawing Inaho's attention back to what his hands were doing, and away from where he knew his mind must be going. This was too pleasant a moment for dismal memories and pointless regrets.

"I don't want to hurt you," Inaho replied predictably, snapping back to attention and continuing on as before.

Slaine sighed. "You're fine."

Regardless of his assurance, Inaho proceeded with extreme caution, almost to an annoying degree. He asked every other minute whether he was causing any discomfort, to which Slaine invariably answered no. Soon he was humming contentedly into his pillow. Perhaps if he sounded happy, he thought, Inaho would relax and stop pestering him. Maybe it worked, for he must have fallen asleep at some point, and when he next opened his eyes the light was turned out and Inaho was there with him under the covers, reading on his phone.

"How long was I out?" Slaine yawned. He was so snug and warm, it was no wonder he'd dozed off.

The phone light switched off and Inaho looked over at him. "About an hour."

Ah, not that long. His inadvertent naps were usually much lengthier, and sometimes if it was late enough he simply kept on sleeping right through the night. Inaho, on the other hand, did not seem sleepy at all. "You've been awake this whole time?" he asked with some concern, "Can't sleep?"

"I'm not tired yet. It's still a little early."

Slaine pulled the blanket up to his chin, huddling down into the cozy bed and peering lazily through half-closed eyes at the shadowy figure beside him. The nightlight outlined the slope of Inaho's shoulder and the slight curve of his hip in a soft glow of gold, and cast his hair a cinnamon hue. He looked warm and comfortable and content. In fact, he had been in good spirits since morning. "You seem happy today," said Slaine, "I'm glad."

"I am. It's an important day."

While it was true that he had managed to survive twenty-one years of life, which perhaps for him was something of an accomplishment, he could see no rationale for this much fuss over it. "It's not that important," he countered vaguely.

"It is."

"It's not."

"It is…" Inaho's soft smile only made Slaine frown suspiciously. His doubts faded, however, when a hand briefly touched his face before dropping back to the mattress. "I'm very glad that you were born, Slaine."

Slaine opened his mouth to respond, but just as soon closed it again. In his attempt to first understand the statement, and then connect it with the one who had said it, his mind got muddled in forming a response and went blank entirely. All that remained were wordless emotions. He, too, was glad that he had been born. He was glad that they were each part of the same universe, existing at the same time… he was grateful for Inaho.

"I just..." Inaho continued, and then hesitated, "I wish you could be free."

Slaine shifted onto one elbow. "What do you mean?" he murmured, leaning over to the one beside him. The one who was fused into his future, carved into his past, here with him right now in this impossible moment. Yes, this was all impossible. It was dangerous, a risk. And though he may never understand it, he would accept it all readily. "Inaho," he smiled, feeling the warmth of a cheek against his own, "I'm already free."

a/n: To all of you who have been following since the beginning, especially, and those who have joined along the way, thank you so, so much for reading my fic! It has meant so much to me to see you enjoy my writing. ^u^ A big thank you to my friends who have (endured) stood by me throughout this process, especially Ryoku1, without whom I might have perished somewhere in the middle of writing this fic, and who is always willing to help and encourage me when I need it most. ;u;

Goodbye for now! I'll still be here in AZ hell, writing for eternity...