( 5 )
The air has never smelled recycled.
Rubedo inhales deeply, savoring the scent of grass and trees and real soil, and shifts closer to Nigredo. They're sitting together, leaning back against the fountain, the occasional water droplets leaping to land in their hair.
Nigredo curls his arm tighter around his brother, his partner, his best friend, absently rubbing small circles Rubedo's shoulder with his knuckles. It's warm and comfortable, and the brilliantly clear windows of the Durandal provide a bright and beautiful view of the stars.
"Someone should find a way," Rubedo mumbles, nuzzling his cheek against Nigredo's chest.
"A way to do what?" he asks, happy and drowsy.
Rubedo kisses Nigredo's shirt.
"To stop time."
Nigredo kisses Rubedo's hair.
"I don't want to leave this moment, either."