He woke her up at 4 am, and that was half the magic. Smiling under warm covers, waiting with her eyes still closed, Sora knew—he would take her into the strange hollow morning, and she would be safe with him. Tai was much bigger than any early morning monster.
They were just entering the beginnings of fall (when the chilly bite of cold is lurking just behind the warmth of the sun) and the days were picnic days, but the nights were moving towards cruel, and he coaxed her bare feet into last season's tall furry boots before tugging his own floppy sweatshirt over her pajamas and taking her by the hand.
"Tai, honey…what?" she mumbled, but he led her outside and locked the door behind them.
"None of that," he said, and leaned in for a quick kiss while she grumbled about morning breath and fussed with her sleep-mussed hair.
They rode double on his bike with Sora on the handlebars just like when they were kids and when they got where they were going Tai settled her against his chest, dangled his wide feet in the water and sighed. She fell asleep, but that was okay, because that's what mornings at the lake are for—light naps and lazy circular conversations, and have you ever noticed that every lake is the lake, like it's the only lake left in the world?
Tai pulled out a thermos and the coffee was cold, but Sora reached for it anyway and took small grimacing sips while they watched the stars disappear from that in-between-sky.
Have you ever had one of those days that's so good it's sad, and when it's over it hurts a little, thinking back?
Well, Tai pulled out a bakery bag of squashed cinnamon rolls, and some time around noon Sora pushed him in the lake with all of his clothes on and followed him in with none of hers on and they went for dinner looking drippy and disheveled, but Sora smiled so much she almost cried.
It was just that sort of day, you know. Good and sad with stolen hours in the morning and late to bed and why can't days like these go on forever?