Starry Night, one of the most famous paintings of all time, was the view from Van Gogh's bar-clad asylum window.

The next night came by uneventfully, and Yumichika sat in his usual position, this time slouching bitterly and glaring over at Adonis, who was preening like always. That jerk. Why did everybody love him so much, anyways? His marble was so old and cracked that he was grey instead of white. What did they see in him? Besides, his you-know-what was so small. Yumichika wrinkled his nose and rolled his eyes. Jealousy had never looked good on him.

Yumichika's thoughts began to wander back to that samurai warrior who had wandered in last night. Usually they didn't see any of the other exhibits. Not many people woke up at the same time, and it had probably just been a coincidence that they were both awake on the same night. That boy wouldn't come here again, not after they'd accidentally been sent back to their rightful forms when they were caught. They couldn't move for hours after a living person had looked at them; they didn't have a choice in the matter. This sleep wasn't something they could come in and out of at will. They were slaves to their medium.

Besides, the boy had been so much younger than him. He wouldn't be lucky enough to awaken again.

Yumichika gave a quiet sigh, closing his eyes to rest for a moment before straightening back up into his proper form, raising his arms correctly and staying there, still, perfectly poised.

"Psst."

Yumichika opened an eye, but otherwise ignored it, not moving.

"Psssst!"

"What?" he hissed, putting his hands on his hips, staring towards the doorway where his new acquaintance was standing and waiting.

"Hey," he waved with a smile, not put off by Yumichika's cold attitude. Yumichika's heart just melted at the sight. He sat there as if frozen for a moment before messing with the cloth around his waist, trying to fix it a little as if it would make him look more presentable. He fixed his hair with his other hand, preening much like the statue he was so jealous of. They were more alike than he would like to admit. It was a good thing there wasn't a sculpture of Narcissus here, or they would've been at each other's throats.

Ikkaku came into the room, ignoring everyone else and walking straight up to him. This time, fewer sculptures were awake and moving around, and the lights were very dim.

"Hello," Yumichika said, looking down his nose at Ikkaku. He sat primly with his hands folded, leaning up against the crumbling pillar he was lounging on.

"Hey, you wanna' get out of here?" Ikkaku asked eagerly, leaning up to him and taking off his helmet so he could see him better. Ikkaku felt that he'd never get tired of looking at that face. "I think I heard something from downstairs. Maybe some cool guys have awoken. Or we could just look through the gallery, maybe… together," he asked with a questioning tone to his voice, as if he were ready to drop to his knees at any moment to further his plea.

"We aren't meant to leave our exhibits, kenshi," Yumichika said imperiously, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow, playing hard to get. Ikkaku wasn't discouraged, shaking his head, grabbing his hands without permission. Yumichika made a surprised noise as Ikkaku pulled him a little too hard like an eager child dragging their parent. His arms were stiff stone, of course, and couldn't be moved by anyone other than him, but he let Ikkaku yank him around for a little while, watching him warily.

"There are so many amazing things in this place. Let's go see them together! Maybe we'll find an adversary along the way," Ikkaku said, wax eyes shining almost as if they were real. If Yumichika didn't know better, Ikkaku's hands felt like warm flesh instead of the mealy candle-wax that made up his body. Warm human hands hadn't touched him in so long… he almost craved it at this point, remembering how caring his creator had been. This warrior wasn't the same.

Yumichika wrinkled his nose, pulling away. Ikkaku dropped to one knee, clasping his hands together like he was praying. "Don't worry! I'll protect you. You won't get broken, I promise." Ikkaku held out his hand, standing up.

Yumichika was silent for a few seconds, looking around as if he could find a way out of accepting. "I can't walk," he eventually muttered, gesturing to his leg, which had broken off above the knee about a century and a half ago.

Ikkaku's brow furrowed as if he was confused as to why that should matter. "Here, let me try this," he said tentatively, getting up on his tiptoes, stepping up to the very edge of the sculpture, foot braced on the edge of the column Yumichika was seated upon. He awkwardly held his arms out and put them around Yumichika's form, one holding his back, the other hooked under his legs. Ikkaku held his breath as he felt the bare thighs against his arm, pulling him into his chest. Yumichika tried to protest, but all he could do was put his arms around Ikkaku's neck and shoulders as he was picked right up, his connection to the base of the sculpture melting away easily.

Ikkaku stumbled back, nearly dropping to his knees. "Woah." He groaned and readjusted him in his arms, letting out some short quick exhales and resting on one knee. "Huh," he grunted as he hitched Yumichika up a little, standing back up. "You're heavy."

"Charming," Yumichika said flatly. "I'm solid marble, you Ignoramus."

Ikkaku looked to Yumichika's face, which was so close to his own. A small breath left him, puffing over Yumichika's cold cheeks. He was heavy in his arms, but he was just so soft and cold that it was penetrating through his layers of clothing to a body that shouldn't be there in the first place. Ikkaku was so glad to finally feel something.

"Don't drop me," Yumichika warned. "I'll break." After a moment of silence, Yumichika let out a shaky breath, clinging to him. "You're not the first…" Ikkaku's eyes went steely and determined, wondering who on earth had carried Yumichika away and let him be damaged however many decades ago. Had Yumichika loved them? Had they let him down? Or had it been a human that Yumichika had no choice against? "Just be careful. I won't be as pretty with even fewer limbs," Yumichika warned, seeming to be putting cautious trust in him.

Yumichika knew that he shouldn't make friends with this person. Ikkaku would likely never awaken again, and all Yumichika would be left to do was miss him, but if that were so, shouldn't he enjoy their time now? He would take this chance, because the regret of not doing so would hurt more in the long run.

"I'll never let you fall," Ikkaku whispered, reassuring Yumichika enough that he hesitantly let go of his shoulders so he could pull the marble cloth over his lap better. Ikkaku adjusted his grip, holding Yumichika closer to his chest, trying to ignore the fact that he was as good as naked.

"This reminds me of a bride kidnapping," Yumichika mumbled, ignoring the eight gossiping engravings of the muses that were watching them go.

"What's that?"

"When a man abducts the woman he wishes to wed." Ikkaku just gave a slow sly smile, looking at Yumichika out of the corner of his eye. Yumichika frowned. "What?... What are you smiling at, what?" he asked angrily. Ikkaku just whistled a little, waltzing out of the room with him in his arms.

"That's a crime among samurai."

"To kidnap a mistress?"

"Yes. Well, perhaps it's not a crime," Ikkaku said with a twisted grimace, walking slower. "The point is that it's shameful."

"Well," Yumichika said with a grin, "It doesn't count as a kidnapping if I'm happy to come along." Ikkaku started smiling again, guilt fading from his expression.

They wandered through the dark hallway, and Ikkaku seemed to be looking for something that would blow Yumichika away, something that would knock the invisible socks off of his feet and ensure that he would let him do this every night for the rest of their strange fragmented existences. Of course, they had never really lived in those times that they remembered, but it felt like they had, because they had the spirit of the era and the knowledge that came with the time. They'd spent so few hours awake, and none of them knew how or why it happened, why they'd come into conscious being, why they were here. At least they could enjoy the time they had left.

They passed through a room filled with taxidermied animals that were stuck stiffly in place. Some of them were obviously man-made simulations of imagined prehistoric animals, most notably the Smilodon. Others were real, and Yumichika made a sad noise as he reached out and ran a finger down the back of an ocelot. There was an Egyptian room with pottery and hieroglyphs, and a figure of Bastet who was staring down at them from her throne, drumming her fingers.

They finally found the Roman exhibits, and surprise-surprise, the brass and stone soldiers were fighting, although one of them with blazing red hair had set down his shield and spear and was leaning against the wall, chatting with a young man in a confederate soldier uniform. Ikkaku greeted them, having had a battle with them earlier before visiting Yumichika.

The Roman congratulated him on his conquest, eyeing his pretty companion. Ikkaku was surprised and didn't know what to say, seeming aghast when he realized that there were other men out there that his new friend might find more suitable, especially this muscle-bound brass figure in flashy armor. Yumichika just sneered at him and said something disparaging about Romans being thieving copycats. The orange-haired soldier boy rolled his eyes when his gladiator friend got heated, dragging him away before yet another fight could break out.

When they came to the Renaissance room with its beautiful paintings and domed ceiling, Ikkaku stopped, never having faltered in the slightest in his iron grip around Yumichika's body. He loved having those silky arms around his shoulders and neck, and if he didn't know better, he could smell roses, as if Yumichika was coming alive in his arms. Now that he thought about it, Yumichika didn't feel heavy to him anymore. His weight seemed almost human, maybe even less.

"Oh, it's beautiful," Yumichika whispered, looking up at the ceiling, where a thousand twinkling stars were painted.

"Not as beautiful as you," Ikkaku said seriously, causing Yumichika to look back to him with a modest smile, as if he knew Ikkaku wasn't sweet-talking him, but being genuine. "Nothing is."

"Don't get too hot under the collar," Yumichika teased. "You'll melt." Ikkaku laughed, averting his eyes. His arms had not yet grown tired from the burden of carrying his friend around. Maybe there was truth to that statement about love giving a man the strength of a thousand. I mean, if it was love. Ikkaku didn't know if man-made objects could be entitled to fall in love. Perhaps if the artist had put in passion and time in building the work of art, that could leave some sort of spark inside them.

Did Yumichika feel that way too?

They made it through about a quarter of the museum, basking in each other's company, and when it was clear that there were only a few hours left until the place opened, they looped back around so Ikkaku could take Yumichika home.

"Goodnight." Yumichika straightened his back and poised himself perfectly once again, watching Ikkaku wave to him and leave for his own room.

During the Heian period, beauty was important in what constituted a 'good' person. Women were meant to be dainty but full-figured, to make a home more welcoming. Conversely, In Sparta, great emphasis was placed on the physical fitness of every person who was born, due to the militaristic nature of the state. Strong active women would birth children that would either grow to be warriors, or bear warriors.