He's sprawled out on Daisuke's bed, apparently too tired to transform back, and he's quite solidly asleep.
You set down the hot tea you made him, and you take a moment to absorb it. He's really quite serious. For all the flirting and teasing, for all the coy smirks and the languid poses, he is a serious entity, indeed. You have no idea why all of this is running through your head as you watch the being you would have given anything to be as a child.
When you were in high school, you used to read lots of romance novels, like all the other girls. You might even still have a few, locked away in dusty boxes full of memoirs. But in them, the gruff hero always looked angelic and peaceful while asleep. The heroine would see him and realize she loved him, and they'd have a happily ever after.
Well, he's not quite a hero, anyway. At least not to those who don't know what he really is; and very few know that, and even fewer understand what it means.
But this isn't a romance novel, and you're not in love with him. He's asleep, and he doesn't look peaceful. He is frowning slightly, and the laughing, exuberant face is replaced with one that is much older and sadder. His hair, deep purple, is splayed out about him. You brush away a lock that has come to rest on his face, and then look again.
Perhaps you were wrong.
Indeed, with his dark hair and eyes and clothing, he looks quite at home in the night. You can almost imagine his wings, his true wings, spread out and magnificent behind him. The closest thing you have ever seen him to true, childish delight is before a theft as he took to the skies. You wish you could see that expression on his face more, instead of this horrible sad one.
A good mother wishes only happiness to her children, after all.
You consider waking him up, but then decide against it. You know that if you did it would probably because you can't stand to see him looking so sad, and he needs the rest, anyway. There's nothing you can do for all that he's been through except to try and make him comfortable. You can't make the pain away, but you'll make sure he feels welcome before he sacrifices himself for the people who know him as the dashing thief. You'll sew up costumes and make notices and play mother to a shadow who can never have one. It's all you can do for him, and it makes you feel like you're justifying yourself sometimes, making up for what you couldn't do on the day you turned fourteen. These thoughts are all running through your head, and you promise yourself you'll take care of him like a second son.
Your fallen son.
Somebody's fallen sun.
You brush a kiss to his forhead and set the tea on the nightstand.
---
A/N: Dammit, I can never write anything long! I dunno, I just wanted Emiko to have a motherly moment with Dark (in case you were having trouble with the characters for some reason, yes, it was Emiko contemplating Dark) and I wanted it to be in second person. This is kind of a weird little thing. Ah well!