Though Yue would never admit it, there was something nice about trading Yukito's form for his own, even if the opportunity only arose a few moments a day. For the obvious reasons: control over his own limbs, as well as speaking and acting rather than observing from within, like some sort of voyeur.

And then, for the less-obvious ones: the way the late summer breeze would tickle the back of his neck; the warm, comforting smells wafting from the Kinomoto's kitchen. Sitting with his feet tucked up under him on Toya's bedroom floor while they poured one another cups of piping hot tea.

"Does it get boring in there?" Toya asked on one of these evenings, gesturing vaguely at Yue's person. "You know, being inside Yuki all day long?"

Yue shrugged. He couldn't help but notice, immaterially, how the red sun streaked in through Toya's window and hit his hair just so. Bronze and gold like a lion – the kind Keroberos surely imagined himself to be.

"Yue?"

"I'm used to it." Another shrug, eyes directed just over Toya's shoulder.

Toya smiled crookedly. "The monster's needed you for a lot of cards recently – or so she says. How's that been? Fun?"

"Am I being interrogated?" Yue asked mildly.

"Nah. I'm just chatting."

"All is as it has ever been." Yue's brows furrowed delicately. "Why ask me these things? You were enjoying a meal with your lover."

"I was, but I wanted to chat with you for a bit, too. I don't do that much, do I, except when we're having some major Clow-related crisis?"

"Mm."

Toya observed Yue closely. His hands were balled into small fists at his knees – not aggressively, though not comfortably either. His eyes, shrouded by heavy lids, stared blankly at – what? The graphic on Toya's shirt? The gentle bruising on his collarbone from Yuki's kisses earlier that day? Toya resisted the urge not to suck in a breath. Please, please, let Yue be looking at anything but that.

Toya cleared his throat. "You and Yuki are a lot alike, you know that?"

"Hm?" Yue's lids raised haughtily; the fists clenched a bit tighter. "How so."

"You're both so easy to read. You wear your hearts right on your sleeve. Only difference is Yuki's up front about his and you pretend like yours doesn't even exist."

Down went the lids again, and almost imperceptibly, up went the chin.

"Come on, Yue. Even Sakura sees it."

Silence.

"I've wanted to ask you for awhile now. About everything. About your life before, about Clow Reed, about you in general. You're part of the family now. You should feel just as at home as that plush toy does."

It would be so easy to change back to Yukito right now. Three seconds of concentration, a gust of wind and wings, and Yue would be back safely in his cocoon. Yukito would cover for him, like the dependable young man he was. The good man. The one Toya loved, the one who more than deserved such love.

Toya lifted his teacup to his mouth, and then, as if having second thoughts, replaced it in its saucer. "Okay, forget it. Enough cross-examination from me. But I still stand by what I said, okay?"

"You and Yukito should finish your tea together," Yue said, at last meeting Toya's gaze directly. "You were having a nice evening." A lump formed in his throat.

"I was," Toya said gently. "And I still am, for the record."

Life had been so simple back then.

Not always easy, of course, juggling both Clow's enigmatic nature and Keroberos' bursts of energy, but predictable in those things. Back then, Yue could count on those late autumn evenings, crisp and cool, curled under his and Clow's favorite willow tree. The magician would read aloud from one of his massive tomes, turning each leafy page as Yue looked drowsily on. And then, of course, the best part, when Clow would run his fingers through Yue's hair, absentmindedly combing through knots and massaging the base of his scalp, sending slivers of warmth down the moon guardian's back.

They were typically guaranteed at least an hour of this each evening, until the night grew brisk and the stars appeared, glittering like precious stones high above.

"It's beautiful," Clow whispered, gesturing vaguely at the heavens. "Though there's something about you, Yue. Something far more striking."

Two dots of color appeared on Yue's cheeks, invisible in the darkness. "You exaggerate."

"Not at all, my love."

Yue tucked his head into the crook of Clow's shoulder, counting each of his breaths, then the beats of Clow's heart. In the sunken base of the tree, surrounded by that rich black sky, they seemed the only two beings in all the world.

"Are you happy, my moon?" Clow asked, almost wistfully.

"Of course," Yue said – quietly, though without hesitation.

"Ah." Clow smoothed Yue's bangs out of his eyes, tracing the outline of his ear and neck with the lightest of touches. "I can't tell you how happy that makes me."

Again, without hesitation, Yue's mouth found Clow's jaw in the dark, working his way up slowly to a generous lower lip. A startlingly hot, heavy breath trembled out of him as he did so, a shudder that was both warm and cool as Clow reciprocated.

"I am glad you are happy, my Yue," Clow said again, pressing his sturdy torso close. Yue was always so much smaller than he ever remembered, pressed up against the thin fabric of his silk shirt like this. Small and warm and radiant, not the moon he was named for but the most vibrant of suns.

"I do not wish to give you any doubt on this matter, not ever," was Yue's response.

Yes, back then it had been simple.

Keroberos hammered at the door with his big lion's paws. No answer from within.

"Oi, Yue!"

Yue, Yue, the walls echoed pitifully.

"Come on, I'm supposed to be the one with the hot head! This happened to me, too – where's my familial support?"

The door flew back on its hinges, as though by some beast five times Yue's girth. The beast himself emerged, somehow managing to still look imperious with dark bags under his eyes and hair hanging loose from its braid, dragging petulantly on the ground.

"What's gotten into ya?" Kero demanded, his voice higher than he'd been expecting.

"Clow's book. What did you do with it?" The words were measured, but emerged in the form of a snarl.

"Whaddya mean, what did I do with it? Clow sealed it away for your own good, ya dummy!"

In a hot flash of white light, Kero found himself thrown back against the opposite wall, a searing pain ripping across his cheek and left flank. His paws gave out under him and he collapsed in a clumsy tangle on the floor.

"Clow would've wanted us to stick together, especially now! But nooooo, you just think about yourself – 'why me, poor me, Clow loved only me and won't let me go to sleep in the book forever in a puddle of my own tears –'"

Yue blanched, as if only by hearing these words repeated did their significance truly register. "What does any of this matter, without the Master here? The one we were created to serve?"

"To serve?" Kero said incredulously. "Yeah, that's all we did! Just served him with our magic and affection – you especially, with that last part, huh? All those hours he spent with you, those nights under the tree, all those books he picked out with you watching him all starry-eyed …" Kero stood up again, though each of his legs seared in pain. He braced himself for another hot white flash, but none came.

Yue turned, the usual proud arch of his back slackening. His eyes bored into the wall, the wainscoting, the floors in dire need of a polish. What purpose did this manor serve, anyway, without the life and energy and magic that had once flowed through it? If Yue couldn't bury himself between the pages of Clow's book, the depths of a grotto or bottom of a lake would have to do. Anywhere, anywhere but here.

"Come on, Yue," Kero said, more a question than an order. "Clow wouldn't want us squabbling like this."

Yue turned his gaze upward, steeling his shoulders. He allowed himself one last indulgent thought of a time before - evenings curled in some small, comfortable space, not just the willow but the sofa before the fire, too, or the great winged chair in the library. The knowing glimmer in Clow's eyes, that familiar reflective gleam as he adjusted his glasses. The taut stretch of binding as he turned a page in his book. Long, elegant fingers - practically those of a musician - threading their way through Yue's thick mane. Pale, soaring mornings buried beneath familiar sheets, as the sun crept under the curtains and dust danced on the windowsill. The first night that Clow had touched him tenderly; when Yue had had to remain absolutely still, for fear if he began trembling he'd never really stop.

My Yue, my love. Hardly my creation any more. A being all your own, unlike anything I could ever have imagined.

Yue turned to face Kero, crossing his arms resolutely over his chest. "You're right, of course."

"Wha—?"

"I won't say it again."

Is he right?

Toya?

Who else?

I don't know. But he has a way of seeing through people. Sakura-chan does, too.

Perhaps this is a byproduct of their magic.

Yes, I think so.

…

He knows you don't owe him any explanation, you know, about your life before. Those are your memories. We just thought … because you're part of the family, you know?

Part of the … family?

Yue. I thought for sure you knew that. I mean, fate has really done everything in its power to bring us close together, huh?

That's one way of putting it.

Consider it for me? It would mean so much to both of us.

With a flourish, Toya set the piece of cake on the dining table, where Yue perched, bemused frown in place. The cake was at least twice the size of Kero's usual serving, decked out in frilly pink frosting and topped with not one, but three large strawberries. It looked about ready to cave in on itself, teetering like an upside-down tower.

"Come on," Toya said, taking a chair across from Yue and nudging the plate in his direction. "One bite, and I'll be satisfied. Doesn't it appeal to you, even a little?"

Yue tapped his chin noncommittally.

"Don't tell me," Toya said, "Are you just like Suppi? One bite and we'll be chasing you across town? Sounds like Sakura'll have her work cut out for her."

Yue's shoulders shook briefly with what Toya, to his bewilderment, realized was silent laughter. He caught a glimpse of a grin, too – minuscule, without teeth, but a grin nonetheless.

"I get to see you laugh and eat? Whoa, okay, let's not rush things, buddy."

Yue turned away, though this only gave Toya a better view of his profile, and the demure red flush on his cheeks.

"You're probably well aware of this," Toya murmured, curling his feet awkwardly around the legs of his chair, "But you're …" What? A contradiction? Hard and soft, mysterious and transparent, frigid and warm all at once?

"… like no one I've never seen," Toya finished, berating himself as the words fell flat.

One, two, three, four, five agonizing seconds of silence, seconds Toya felt deep in his gut.

Yue's eyes bored into the table. "If I am understanding –"

"No, forget it, Yue. My bad."

"Compared to the things I hear from Keroberos …" Yue drummed his fingers on the edge of the table. "I suppose a 'thank you' is in order."

"Oh. Uh … yeah. Of course. You got it."

Another three seconds, though they felt shorter this time. Yue lifted his gaze and met Toya's directly. If only to do something with his hands, he lifted his fork and nodded at the mound of cake before him.

"Will you be joining me?" he asked, as Toya's jaw grew slack.

"Uh … yeah, of course! Just a minute." Toya fumbled out of his chair and moved to the kitchen, cutting himself some cake with a loud clatter of dishes.

Where was the card for doing things over? Sakura had something like that in her collection, right? And surely Clow Reed had created an Elegant Diction card at some point. A Romeo or a Casanova card. But no, why should he need that? He was Clow Reed. There was no room for a college student with a bedhead in Clow's and Yue's world, in whatever heavenly realm they inhabited together.

"Toya," Yue said, his voice mellow. "The Master was right about your baking."

"My sister?" Toya startled himself by laughing. "What does she say about my baking? Nothing too terrible, I hope –"

"Hmm. I suppose she doesn't tell you these things to your face," Yue reconsidered, a sly edge to his voice.

"Oh, c'mon!" Toya's own shoulders shook, though with loud guffaws this time. "No answer? Not one compliment, from the monster or from you?" He plopped back into his chair with a slice of cake about half the size of Yue's. "Tough crowd around here." He noticed, as he brought his own fork to his mouth, that half of Yue's piece - including all of the strawberries – had disappeared, but didn't dare call attention to it.

"Yukito and I have been communicating," Yue said abruptly, head bowed.

"Oh?" Toya leaned forward. "As in, different from how you usually do?"

"I suppose you already know about what, since you can apparently read both Yukito and me like a book."

"Hey now. He does give you your privacy. Especially regarding your past."

"Before the new master."

"Before Sakura," Toya agreed, turning his fork in stiff fingers. "Ah, sorry. I'm no good at talking about this stuff."

"You're better than you know. You and Sakura both."

"Yue …"

"You, your sister, Yukito, and even Keroberos wish us all to be friends," Yue said, with no trace of insincerity. "To do that, I am informed, one must build up trust. For this reason I would like to tell you about my life before, my time with Clow Reed."

"Only if you think it would be helpful. You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to." Toya reached a hand across the table, cupping one of Yue's easily in his own.

"I am not just doing this for you. I am told that this will be for me, too."

"Yeah, I think so." Toya found himself beaming. "Who told you this, anyway? Who's the counselor?"

Yue scoffed lightly. "Keroberos, though you must never repeat this information, or his pride will overwhelm us all. Yukito's mentioned it too, though; we'll say it was all him."

Toya snorted. "Sounds like a plan."

As they finished their cake, Yue's hand remained cupped in Toya's. Neither made an effort to move. There was comfort in knowing that there was no need to rush - that wherever their words, their actions took them, they would get to where they both needed to be. The easy slope of Toya's grin, the soft brushing of both their feet under the table, were all the confirmation Yue needed.