"I'm cold."

His voice is quiet in the immense room, but his bedmate's ears are sharp and he's quickly engulfed in the warmth of another body.

His own body, but from the future.

Details don't matter; what matters is that he's actually being held by another being. He hears the heart beat in-tuned with his own, smells the familiar scent of maple syrup mixed with sweat and tobacco, feels the smooth satin pajamas so different from his cottony bunny ones.

No matter what happened during the day or how bad the world is or what ever, this is the time when life is perfect: it's hands entwined with other hands, legs twisted up in each other and two bodies inexorably linked.

He never wants it to end.