What... time was is?

Whatever the time, it was too early. Much, much too early.

Klug groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in a futile effort to keep out the sun's warming radiance out. His head was killing him, or at least that's how it felt. It was as though a pincushion was being ground into the space behind his eyes.

Ow.

At least he knew why he was in pain. He was less sure as to why his body felt so heavy. Simple tiredness, perhaps?

He risked taking a peek and instantly regretted it, his eye stung by the callous and uncaring sunlight. Why couldn't there be an eclipse or something?! What good was the magic of heavenly bodies if it wasn't able to tear a moon from its orbit and use it to blot out a single wretched star?

It was pathetic. He was pathetic.

... And curiously warm. Sightlessly groping around so not to risk being blinded a second time, he found his answer. An arm had been thrown around him at some point during the night, the dead weight of the thing pressing into him. Intending to shove it aside, he was surprised by the heat that radiated from the sandy-textured skin.

A thought occurred. Experimentally, he tried to shift it. Heavier than expected, but not immovable. Little by little, Klug managed to nudge the alien hand upwards, coaxing the palm open so that the fingers would cover his aching eyes.

Wonderful. However strange it might have looked, Sig's hand made an effective hot compress. It couldn't fix the headache but it certainly made it easier to live with.

All things considered, the celestial mage felt pretty good. A mild buzzing that remained in a corner of his brain but it was a far cry from what it had felt like earlier. At least now he didn't shrink back from the light like a theatrical vampire. Yes, life definitely wasn't all bad.

... If only he didn't need to confront that accursed book.

Ugh. No. Not right now. Procrastinating a little longer probably wouldn't hurt. Besides, the owner of the toasty vermilion hand which presently rested on his shoulder wasn't awake. He could spare a little more time.

Careful not to jostle said limb, Klug turned over to regard his uninvited but not unwelcome guest. The quiet, steady breathing was the only indication that the cyan-haired boy was alive at all, slightly curled up in yesterday's t-shirt and boxers atop the comforter. If he was cold, he gave zero indication of it. Then again, that was practically his defining characteristic. What, if anything, went on inside that skull of his was largely a mystery.

Looking so peaceful, so content... it made the mage more than a little envious. Surely the prospect of his 'condition' spreading terrified Sig, yet he seemed so calm much of last evening. Hell, later, he even attempted to smooth the frayed edges of Klug's post-nightmare nerves.

Sig was... well, Sig was nice. That made the academic all the more determined to find out something, anything that might improve his situation.

It took him a few moments to realize that he'd been brushing aside some of the wilder strands of the unconscious bug catcher's hair. This time, he didn't have the excuse of providing comfort or showing solidarity. It... just felt good, and it wasn't as though it hurt anything.

He kept believing that: then, Sig smiled. It was small, not one that would launch a thousand ships, but it still made his heart skip a beat. Why? Why did such a minor thing make him happy? Furthermore, why question it, as though happiness were a crime?

When was the last time Klug had spent time just being around someone like this? A year, maybe? Longer? During the infrequent times his parents came home it was difficult enough to hold a conversation unless it was related to his studies. They were either too busy or tired, and besides, he was old enough to 'stand on his own' and 'be independent'. If his grades were satisfactory then no intervention was necessary.

With Ayashii's presence at least he was never truly alone. At least it was someone to talk to. Its acerbic sense of humor left much to be desired, sometimes, but it wasn't usually so hostile. What was about Sig that set Aya off so badly? During the incident, Sig had been one of three that defeated it. Each had taken one artifact, but its ire seemed directed solely at the cyan-haired somnolist. Strange.

Pressure on his shoulder dragged the academic from his contemplative state, grabbed and then quickly released by his friend's toasty vermilion digits. It didn't hurt, though maybe it was a little harder than the mage would've preferred. That's what you get for moving it, he supposed.

Eyes open only a sliver, the entomophile let out a long, relaxed breath. Fighting off the torpor seemed no easy task. Not surprising, since neither had gotten a reasonable amount of sleep. Blinking slowly, Sig seemed to realize where his left hand was, gingerly removing it.

"Sorry Kururu... y' okay?" He slurred apologetically, barely awake, trying to speak through a yawn with no great amount of success. Even now, the owner of the mismatched eyes seemed aware of the force his arm could exert. Hopeful, he asked, "not hurt?"

'Kururu'? That was a new one. Klug brushed it off, chalking it up to fatigue.

"No, I'm alright. It's... kind of my fault anyway. I moved it, so..."

"Good." The bug catcher didn't seem particularly worried about why the scholar had moved the thing, satisfied enough that no damage had been done. Stretching a little, he half-spoke, half-yawned again, "sleep okay?"

"W-well, better than before, yes," the mage sounded slightly flustered, fiddling with the cuff of one pajama sleeve while trying to find the right words, "I just wanted to say, thanks. Sorry if I seemed annoyed, umm, earlier..."

His companion beamed, not really expecting praise, "dun' worry. Y' were tired. Scared. S'okay. Glad to help."

That grin, so easygoing, so genuine... Klug couldn't help but mutely stare.

Sig stared back, curiously, making a small noise in the back of his throat. "Hmm..."

The sound made the novice dark wizard nervous. Fidgeting, he thought, why were you staring, anyway? You thought he wouldn't notice?

Yet... Sig continued to stare.

Is this what it felt like to be an insect? To be silently studied and observed, waiting for the proverbial net to drop?

His friend finally seemed to reach a sort of epiphany, some revelation, and professed, "you look different without glasses."

That... that was it?! Yes, it was true, but...

"Can't always see 'em, lenses are so shiny," Sig continued, oblivious, "they're really green."

"Thanks..?"