They didn't touch. It wasn't forced avoidance, it just naturally didn't happen. That is not to say they weren't intimate; they were. As close as two friends, two brothers and two lovers. They allowed themselves that much: after being disconnected from the whole world, they needed some connection to hold them down. They knew each other completely, understood each other on such a deep level that it hurt. They worried for each other, and were scared for each other too, always.

On top of that, there was a constant tension in their lives. Every thing had to be perfect. Back-up plans upon back-up plans, preparing for every possible outcome, like overlaying the same game of chess over and over again until the chessboard resembled nothing but blurred grey. One wrong step and the their home and beloved balcony would be blown to rubble with themselves inside. One wrong move and they could become mass murderers. One wrong decision and they might harm the other.

So they didn't touch. The didn't know how the two independent things linked together, but only that they did.

Yet somehow, their chaotic lives didn't seem to be so. They had learned to live a normal life. How they did that was another matter entirely. They were relaxed, and calm almost to the point of indifference when they talked to each other. Not many words were spoken but not few either. Each conversation was necessary and meaningful. Even when they didn't talk, just were in close proximity (but not touching), or as one of them typed and the other listened, the occational game of chess, or a meaningless decision made through rock-paper-scissors which made their life seem rather normal (until one realised what they were playing for), or they (attempted) to sleep in their bunk beds, one above the other, they were okay. Rather than the glorious dance of the fire and the ice, the two just canceled each other out, leaving behind a soothing silence in place.

Nine stood at the doorway to the balcony, not quite outside, in the faintly lighted darkness. His head was throbbing numbly from just a moment ago, where he had been cluching his hair in agony. His glasses had fallen to the floor, and he hadn't yet reached down to retrieve them, lest the world tilt and spin even more.

In his vulnerable moment, he hadn't heard Twelve walk up behind him, but knew that he was there now. The voice with which he said his name immediately set off alarms in Nine's head. Twelve always completed his sentences, but this time he had trailed off after Nine's name. Twelve's heart was strong, but Nine could see a crack.

Twelve embraced Nine from the back, his arms around Nine's torso and chin balanced on his shoulder. It was a happy and carefree hug, as one would expect of the sunshine that was Twelve. But to Nine, the alarms in his head were only made louder. Something was wrong. Idley, in the back of his head, he marveled at how natural the touch felt despite the newness of it. Nine glanced down at his shoulder discretely, to see the boy grinning off to the view from the balcony, his eyes shining youthfulness. Something was very wrong.

Nine freed his arms from where they were pinned to his side, and stepped out from Twelve's arms. Just as smoothly, he turned around and wrapped Twelve in his embrace. Twelve just stood blankly for a moment, his arms still outstretched from where Nine had loosened them. One of Nine's arms were around Twelve's shoulder, hand resting on Twelve's head, which he guided down so that his face was against Nine's neck. That way, Nine could feel the emotions on Twelve's face. His other hand formed another support on Twelve's lower back.

It was a moment before Twelve responded, falling into Nine. Needless to say, Nine didn't let him fall. There was a certain desperation in Twelve's feeble hold. What is it, Nine wanted to ask. What's wrong.

This scared him. He needed Twelve to stay strong for him.

Was it tears Nine felt on his shoulder?

I don't want you to die. That's what Twelve said.

Nine felt his face tighten. It was no secret that Nine was slowly dying, that he didn't have much time left. They had seen the others fall in front of their eyes. But the fact was that the children of the Athene project did not fear death.

What Twelve meant was: I'm scared of being left alone.

Nine held on to Twelve more closely. It was his role to comfort, to protect Twelve: Twelve was the younger one after all. None of the Athene children fought death when it came. But Nine, he was fighting death for a long time, and he would continue to do so. He promised himself long ago that he would not let Twelve be left alone. No, if anyone of them would be left alone, it would be Nine. Only then, after protecting Twelve from the pain, would he fall too. (He would not have reason to fight death anymore, if the pain of losing Twelve didn't kill him already.)

Don't you worry, Twelve. I've been looking after you all this time: I'm not going to stop now.

Don't worry. Don't be scared. When we fall, we'll fall together.

Really?

Of course.

They basked in the affectionate touch of each other.

Just a little longer, Twelve. Hang on just a little longer. It will all be over soon. And you won't be the one left alone.