I apologize for not updating in, like, forever. I know, I know; I'm awful. Sorry to my wonderful readers!

A lot of people say that a kiss is just a kiss, nothing more and nothing less, and Matthew, never really having been in a relationship before, could not deny or agree. The first time Gilbert had kissed him, it hadn't changed their friendship much, but that was Matthew had clearly articulated that he didn't want anything to change. After the second kiss, still nothing changed. It was possible, however, that the lack of change was due to the fact both Matthew and Gilbert were so busy during the day and then absolutely exhausted from the activities going on in the Dreamscape.

Still, there were times Matthew would look over at Gilbert and wonder what exactly his friend thought of him. Would it be weird to kiss him again? Should he try to talk about their relationship? Was there even a relationship to talk about? This tentative wondering and slightly uncomfortable air he now felt when with Gilbert—combined with the fact that organizing a Dreamscape rebellion was taking up most of their energy—was finally broken about three weeks after Matthew rejected Ivan.

It was late November, the Friday before Thanksgiving Break, and Gilbert and Matthew were eating in their normal abandoned classroom. Matthew, who had spent his entire evening distributing weapons to Parisians who were joining the rebellion with Elizaveta and Arthur, was absolutely drained. The rebellion, however, was going extremely well. Alfred was very useful, and it was odd for Matthew to see him like that: a respectable, intelligent, moving young man. Not that the actual Alfred wasn't those things, it was just strange. It was still in its underground phase, but the rebel force was growing at a rapid rate. The first public display of insurgence would be taking place in four days...

Matthew stared at his sandwich, almost too tired to eat, for a good thirty seconds before Gilbert said, "Birdie?"

"What?" Matthew asked, yawning.

"Would you like to go on a date tonight?"

Matthew's eyes widened. "You mean you want to go on a date with me?"

Gilbert laughed. "You don't seem to get how much I like you."

Matthew's cheeks reddened. "You don't have to work tonight?"

"No. Elizaveta and her family are closing the shop for Thanksgiving Break to go visit relatives in Hungary. I have to deal with orders, but they don't need me there for that. So, what do you say? Think you'll be able to stay awake for that?"

"Are you kidding me? I'd love to."

"I'll pick you up at eight, okay?"

"Where are we going?"

The Prussian winked. "It's a surprise, okay?"

It was four in the afternoon in the Dreamscape and Arthur Kirkland was still awake, sitting at a desk with an open notebook in front of him, trying desperately to scrawl out some kind of plan for getting Constantin back to Vladimir without getting annihilated. He was underground the city of Paris in one of the rebel bases, but the sound of thunder and heavy rain shook the walls and added a chilly and uninviting atmosphere to an already tense environment.

Arthur thought about Gilbert and Matthew. It was four, so they had to be in the Actual World, probably getting home from school or something...

It took Arthur a minute to hear the steady knocking at the door, masked by the rainstorm. He kicked the notebook under the desk and loaded his gun. "Come in."

The door opened and Elizaveta slid in and closed it quickly. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief and set down his weapon. "What's up?"

Elizaveta put down the hood of her dark raincoat, shaking out her flowing brown hair and brushing raindrops off her nose. "Bad news."

"Damn. Didn't know it could get worse."

"Don't be sarcastic." Elizaveta sat down on the edge of Arthur's bed, hugging her knees to her chest. Arthur could see her underwear, and he was about to tell her this, but she said, "I know. Fuck off. Listen."

Arthur threw up both hands, bending down to grab his planning notebook. "Okay, okay. Good Lord. Carry on."

"I was just out searching for recruits. You're not gonna believe who I saw." Too impatient to wait for Arthur to answer, she said, "Antonio."

Arthur's eyes widened. "But the night the USSR invaded, Feliciano said he was shot by a soldier!"

"Antonio's working for the Soviet Union."

"What? Antonio wouldn't do that. The Catholics hate the communists. Are you sure you're right?"

"I'm positive." The room dropped several degrees in temperature. Arthur shivered and pulled his jacket tightly around him, but Elizaveta, unfazed, simply raised her eyebrows. "If Antonio were dead, Arthur, I would have spoken to him by now." Ice was beginning to crystallize in fractals around her, traveling along the floorboards and glittering in the dim light coming from the lamp on the nightstand. Arthur watched as it continued along, spiraling into glistening patterns until the floor looked like an icy version of a vaulted cathedral ceiling.

"Stop," Arthur said.

The room returned to its normal temperature and Elizaveta sighed apologetically. "Sorry. All I'm saying is I'm not wrong; I'm absolutely sure. Antonio is far from dead and he's working with the USSR, and Feliciano lied to us and everybody in that church."

A loud burst of thunder reverberated through the room, shaking Arthur to his heart. He knew what Elizaveta was saying, and he believed her, but he didn't want to. "Try to find Antonio."

Elizaveta studied her childhood friend. "I told you, Arthur, I just did. And I found him. He's here. He's alive."

Arthur stared at the cover of his notebook, listening to the rain pouring down on the ground above. "When Matthew gets back to the base, send him here."

"He's supposed to be—"

"Tell him it's an emergency. And, Elizaveta?"

"What?" Elizaveta asked, her hand resting on the doorknob.

"Stay safe."

Gilbert's nerves were jangling. He took a deep breath and rang the Williamses' doorbell, forcing himself to take several deep breaths. Inhale for four, hold for seven, exhale for eight... Matthew opened the door, his smile bright, and Gilbert wasn't sure if this made him less nervous or more. The Canadian had dressed warmly as Gilbert had instructed him to, wearing a green army-style jacket over a red and black flannel. "Ready?"

"Yeah," Matthew said, getting into the passenger seat. "So, you going to tell me where we're going?"

"I said it's a surprise," Gilbert replied, backing out of the driveway. "And it's kind of a long drive, but it's worth it, I promise." For some stupid reason, Gilbert felt his heart rate increasing. He needed to calm down. Four, seven, eight. Four, seven... fuck it. "What are you gonna do over break this week?"

Matthew laughed. "Sleep. Play hockey. Spend time with you. What else is there to do?"

They kept a light, friendly conversation running for the car ride, but there was an uneasiness in the air that was almost heaviness; a heaviness that came from the exhaustion of being unable to escape from the Dreamscape and its demands. But neither of them mentioned it, instead joking and (Gilbert hoped) flirting and singing along badly to songs that came on the radio.

After driving for about an hour, Gilbert said, "Close your eyes. We're almost there, and I really want it to be a surprise."

Matthew did as he was told, laughing. Gilbert had such an old-fashioned way of doing things. Matthew found it quite endearing. Gilbert parked the car and opened the door. "Stay there," he said, and Matthew said, "You're not going to murder me, are you?" which made the knot in Gilbert's stomach loosen. He snorted and got out of the car, unloading something from the back seats.

After about three minutes, Gilbert opened the passenger door and put his hand on Matthew's shoulder. "Okay, get out."

Matthew stepped out of the car and heard Gilbert shut the door. A cool breeze stirred the air, and the night was silent: completely different from the suburbs and cities Matthew was used to.

"Open your eyes," Gilbert said.

Matthew did, and inhaled sharply. They were in the middle of an empty field that seemed to stretch on for miles, far from any city lights or flashing signs. Matthew looked up and saw millions of glittering stars, stretched out in front of him like ornaments. He was no astronomer, but he recognized a few constellations burning in the sky, casting gentle starlight over the earth. He glanced over at Gilbert, who was staring at him nervously and adoringly, and in that second, it was like all the heaviness he'd been feeling for the past few weeks dropped away, leaving only a feeling of belonging and warmth.

"I used to come here all the time," Gilbert said. "It always makes me feel calm. I was hoping it would help you feel that way, too. Do you like it?"

"I love it. I..." Matthew shook his head, at a loss for words. "Thank you."

Gilbert had laid out a bunch of blankets on the ground and had a picnic basket packed with food and drinks. "I know it's kind of late," he said apologetically, "but I wanted you to be able to see the stars."

It was their first date, but it didn't feel like a first date to Matthew. It felt like he'd known Gilbert his whole life and was just settling into the place he had always meant to be. Matthew was thinking this as Gilbert rested his head against the Canadian's shoulder and their fingers interlaced.

"Gilbert?" Matthew murmured, not sure if the Prussian was asleep or awake.

Gilbert lifted his head a millimeter and turned so that his red eyes were locked directly with Matthew's violet ones. Matthew caught his breath; their faces were so close that if either of them leaned forward at all, their lips would have met. "Don't leave me," Gilbert whispered.

"Why would I?" Matthew asked, surprised by the question. "I like you a lot."

"No," Gilbert said with insistence, "Matt, no. Promise me you won't leave me."

Matthew searched Gilbert's pleading eyes, looking for a clue, when he suddenly realized what his friend was asking. Gilbert wanted Matthew to promise he would not die.

"Stop worrying about me," Matthew murmured, taking one of Gilbert's hands in both of his.

"I always worry about you," Gilbert said honestly.

"There's nothing that can be done," Matthew said. Worrying about dying in the Dreamscape was pointless. He just had to be cautious. "I've been doing this for seventeen years. Well, not exactly this, but..." Matthew smiled weakly. "I'm always careful. I do my best."

"Just promise me," Gilbert begged.

Matthew squeezed Gilbert's hands. "I promise."

Gilbert coughed. It was a watery cough, and Matthew said, "Are you crying?"

"No. Yes. A little."

Matthew did not recall Gilbert ever crying in front of him. Well, maybe once. "Gilbert? Do you remember that time in the Dreamscape when I shoved that man out of the way of the bus in Paris and you thought I was going to die?"

"Dammit, you asshole. Of course I remember that." Gilbert looked up at the stars, his eyes flickering over constellations, and laughed. "I cried then, too, didn't I?"

"Yup."

There was perfect silence for a moment, until Gilbert spoke up. "Birdie, do you ever want your dreams to stop?"

"Yeah," Matthew replied softly. "I do. Do you?"

"I loved the Dreamscape."

"Past-tense?"

"I loved the Dreamscape until I met you."

Matthew felt a sadness open in his heart, a dull ache. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"What do you want to talk about?"

"I think..." Matthew licked his lips hesitantly. "I think I want to kiss you."

Gilbert smiled. "Do it, then," he dared. "Kiss me."