A/N: The warm glow before the harsh fluorescence.

This is where it began and you know how it ends.

Enjoy, or I'll call a secret government organization on you.

The night was cool, the air silky against their faces. The lights of the city reflected on the water, turning harsh, neon advertisements into beautiful distorted rainbows that shimmered and broke when the little rocks he threw into the water created ripples in its surface.

From faraway, they could hear metropolitan sounds, thousands of voices, a muffled murmur, so unimportant here beneath the half-moon light. The trees whispered sweet nothings to the shy sidewalk, closed and cold as it was, that only now, in the light of the rising moon, showed itself for what it truly was, a full range of shimmering blues and grays.

It was beautiful, without a doubt, and there was still a blush leftover on her cheeks from the dinner table's candle, that waxy warm thing that had only intensified the already present rouge upon her cheeks. She'd stumbled in holding her silverware, the sharp edge of the knife turning out of her hand in one of her many startled moments. More startling, he'd flown over, napkin out like soft gauze, to wipe up the viscous red stuff that spewed from the gash on her leg.

More blushing had ensued. He'd been so close. So awkwardly close. It had been terribly difficult to resist fidgeting.

She didn't though, and worked to keep from smiling when he himself had crashed against the table in his effort to bend down and retrieve the faulty cutlery. He'd cursed and blamed her to cover up his embarrassment, but she knew the truth.

She had thanked the establishment for providing such large menus, allowing for time to grin contentedly behind the laminate and faux leather, to wonder if perhaps she should pay more attention to the menu rather than wondering if he was doing the same as she. Incidentally, he was.

Luckily, the waiters brought their food out quickly, and they stopped trying to make small talk, instead concentrating on making sure they didn't use their fingers as they were so tempted to, or dribble any sort of anything on their clothes, which were so nice and uncomfortable. Attaining adulthood was, after all, all about the eager acceptance of such impediments.

Eventually, dessert had saved them from passing the interminable period between courses. He, of course, ordered nothing, but watched her as she ate hers. Just having one dish of sweetness on the table saved them both from agony.

As soon as they were out that glowing restaurant, they felt free. It was here they realized the stifling nature of the indoors, how nature couldn't take its course where nature wasn't present. Surrounded by the angular geometry of the damned room, so full of other stifled and awkward people, had not been the best idea. Here, in the cool autumn air, everything made more sense.

She made sense.

He made sense.

The sensations made sense, those wrenching feelings in their chests, the little jumps, the little inaudible sighs they both refused to release.

The glow from the city made it possible, the glow from her content face made it possible, the glow that intensified once they were together… it made it possible.

Here, walking across this ancient stone bridge, he took her hand, firm and sure, but nothing could conceal the way he refused to look her in the eyes. He was afraid, just like her, but refused to show it. He was the stoic one, a fact that should not be forgotten.

And she, the shy one. She was grateful for the limited light, the glow that diffused the burning pink of her face.

He still noticed it, and it brought him secret pleasure, knowing it was their because of him and for him.

Eventually, their hands hot over one another, they had stopped at the edge of the bridge, and they hadn't let go, even when he'd bent to pick up little stones to throw into the water, competing on whose could go farther.

His went farther every time.

Eventually, they had said all the wonderful things they'd reserved for the dinner table, but were unable to say because of its closed nature, closed nature due to its lack of real nature, the kind they were in now, that allowed them to let nature take its course.

They did let nature take its course. He'd finally dropped his guard, threw aside his dignity, slid it under the dreaded saw of rejection, to tell her what he'd been thinking the entire night: that she was beautiful. Always beautiful, though he never said it.

And she had shyly peeked up from under her eyelashes to thank him for his kind comment, her heart thumping against her chest so violently she was sure he'd hear it.

He didn't; he was too worried that she'd be hearing his.

She'd thrown caution and her carefully maintained bubble against rebuff to the winds, and said what she'd known all along and refused to acknowledge for fear of pain: she liked him; she liked him very much, and had liked him very much for a very long time.

It had all been leading up to that moment, the moment they felt they'd been waiting for their entire lives, when he finally looked at her with cautious eyes, raised a hand to push aside her hair, while she closed her eyes and readied herself for him.

He was slow and careful, for his sake as much as for hers, and the caress of his lips on her was slow and building, the warmth fixing the things he had cracked in the past. Warm, rough hand resting lightly against the nape of her neck, causing her to shudder, causing her to push herself closer into the warmth of his lips.

Warm, rough hand clutching her closer at the waist, while her own arms instinctually climbed upwards, like lily vines, to wrap themselves around his pale neck.

Slow, warm, building, intense, and passionate. It lasted but a minute.

But the glow burned on, warming him and her from inside their very core, their hearts melting with the heat of the glow.

There was no way this could ever end.