A week later and the three of them had found their way across the sloping reserve down to the fjord, the weather pleasant and the water clear. Lumaira hadn't been able to heal L'Erena completely: bandages still snaked along her arms and across her chest - but she was alive and she was smiling and that was all he could possibly ask for.
The conversation had been a curious mixture between inane schoolfriend gossip and theories of Lumaira's magical powers, but now they'd settled on the grassy bank it had lulled into a comfortable silence. Lumaira, kicking ripples across the water with his toes, was the first to speak.
"Well, at least that's a few questions answered."
"Hardly," L'Erena scoffed. "Before it was what's fucked up about Even. Now it's what's fucked up about you."
But Lumaira shook his head.
"I've been thinking. Before we didn't have any clue at all, and now we know for sure that it's me, and that it's some kind of magic. You said I glowed pink, right? Well, that rules out zombies, robots and aliens."
"And now we're into the realm of elves and unicorns and fairies."
Lumaira sighed a little, turning back to the water.
"Yeah."
"And besides," L'Erena continued, scratching aimlessly at her arms, "That still doesn't explain the car."
"Maybe Even's also secretly Superman."
"What, and you're his anti-kryptonite?"
Lumaira glanced up at Even and smiled a little. He'd told L'Erena when she was still in the hospital; she'd been half delirious from drugs and exhaustion but it felt wrong for her not to know. Even though they'd done nothing but cuddle a little longer than usual and L'Erena laughed at him for not even rounding first base. It was right that way.
"Maybe I'd like that."
And he stood from the water's edge and padded over to Even, looping his arms around the tall boy's waist. He was half requited.
"D'you ever think we'll find out?" He asked eventually. For a few minutes, nobody said anything until Even coughed a little and spoke up.
"Lumaira, I don't think you're human."
Both L'Erena and Lumaira stared at him like he was insane. He sounded too serious to be joking, like L'Erena's idle comments of Lumaira being a leprechaun with gigantism or secretly a ghost. Eventually Lumaira managed a strangled;
"Why?"
"Think about it," Even said, gesturing to Lumaira. "You clearly have some kind of supernatural ability above and beyond the capabilities of a human being."
"But that doesn't mean I'm like, an alien or anything," Lumaira protested. "And I have a mum. And if she was an alien she would have told me when I started bringing people back from the dead."
Even sighed a little.
"But what about your father."
A long pause. Even continued.
"Lumaira, you've never met him. And you told me yourself that after he left your mother she never saw him again. He disappeared, so to speak."
"That was because he was a heartless, deceptive bastard," Lumaira spat, eyes narrowing. His sudden change of tone threw Even off a little: Lumaira was incapable of anger. Except, it seemed, when directed at his father.
"Hear me out," Even said haltingly. "It's the best theory I have right now. Don't you think it's a bit odd that he managed to disappear like that? Didn't your mother know where he lived? What about his friends and family, didn't she know any of them to ask where he was? Couldn't she have tracked him down?"
Lumaira helplessly shook his head. He didn't know.
"Do you know how they met?"
"Yeah," Lumaira said quietly. "Mum was carrying some books home from the library and she tripped and fell and he caught her. They went out for coffee and she says it was love at first sight. What are you trying to say?"
Even pressed his forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose
"I'm just saying that there's a possibility that your father wasn't human."
"So he was an alien?" L'Erena guessed.
"Or some kind of supernatural being. I'm not sure."
"That's stupid," Lumaira said fiercely, glaring with fists clenched at the still water.
"Have you got anything better?" Even snapped. Lumaira hung his head.
"Admittedly, no..."
"It would explain a lot though, don't you think? How he literally appeared out of nowhere and disappeared just as suddenly? Unless there are some highly unusual events in your childhood you haven't told us, Lumaira, I'd say that your powers are inherited from your father."
"No!" Lumaira yelled, louder than he expected. Even actually flinched at the sudden sound, at Lumaira tearing himself away. "No! I don't want to be like him!"
And he stood in mortified rage for a few seconds before crumpling back down onto the grass.
"There has to be some other reason."
L'Erena splashed over and cupped her hand over Even's ear.
"Hint:" She whispered, "Lumaira hates his Dad. Don't mention him under any circumstances."
Even huffed a little, batting her away and pushing his glasses back up his nose.
"Lumaira, calm down. I'm just trying to approach this scientifically-"
"Because resurrection makes perfect sense!" Lumaira exclaimed. He made the mistake of glancing up and letting Even see his tears, and before he knew it Even had paddled over to the bank and pulled Lumaira into a hopelessly awkward hug.
"Please. It's the closest answer we've got. I know it's hard; I'm not exactly on great terms with my parents either."
He waited until Lumaira had stopped crying before he pulled away.
"Look," He said awkwardly, "I know this is going to sound like I was on drugs, but. I think I've met your father."
Lumaira stared at him.
"How?"
"The day L'Erena died, remember I ran away? And I came here. Well, I went to my old house first but after that I came here. And it does sound stupid, but I could have sworn that I heard a voice. And it sounded like you. But older. I think it was him."
The silence extended forever as Lumaira and L'Erena both privately considered this.
"Right now," L'Erena said finally, "Nothing seems any more implausible than the truth."
Even let out a sigh.
"He didn't say anything useful. But he did speak. Which means, if my theories are correct, he's either got some kind of psychic ability or is some form of spirit. Capable of taking on a human form."
"You didn't see him?"
"Not really. It was all a kind of blur. And, well, I was sort of screaming at nothing. I could have been imagining it, but... it felt real. Like waking up in a coffin."
"Like I said," L'Erena murmured, "It makes just as much sense as everything else."
They both happened to glance at Lumaira, who'd been silent since Even had spoken. He was staring blankly at his hands, limp in the clumps of grass.
"Lumaira, are you okay?"
Lumaira looked up, a fierceness in his eyes that Even was unfamiliar with.
"I want to meet him."

Two weeks later and Lumaira still had the photograph of his father clenched in his hand, phone lying uselessly in the other. Even, behind him, was making a haphazard dinner for three with inexperienced clumsiness despite Lumaira's precise instructions. They were waiting for the phone to ring and had been waiting ever since they'd skidded home from a day at the aquarium up in town. It wasn't until Even was plonking badly cooked noodles into bowls that the phone jolted to life. Immediately, it was pressed to Lumaira's ear.
"Yes?"
A silence.
"Oh. Oh, okay. Sorry to bother you. Never mind."
Lumaira put the phone down and shook his head.
"Nothing?"
"Nothing."
They'd been looking for Lumaira's father. They were doing all they could, calling up the hospital where he'd been born fourteen years ago and asking around all of Naminé's friends - but there wasn't even so much as a shred of a lead. Every pointless call solidified Even's theory: there had to be something more to Lumaira's father than met the eye.
Lumaira sighed, propping the photograph up on the table. It was in a simple wooden frame, a dusty brunette and a smiling blonde occupying its glassy rectangle.
"What was his name, anyway?" Even asked as he set one of the bowls down in front of Lumaira. Lumaira sighed a little, listlessly plucking up his fork.
"I don't know his surname. Not even Mum knew. But his first name was Marluxia."
"Marluxia," Even repeated thoughtfully. "I've never even heard that name before." And he paused for a moment, because talking about Lumaira's father was always a difficult subject, "Maybe it wasn't his name at all."
"Don't," Lumaira hissed. "It's the only thing I've got."
Even sat down and ate, slowly and thoughtfully. It wasn't until Naminé had come and gone in an overslept rush that he sat up suddenly.
"Lumaira."
"Huh?"
Lumaira was in the middle of battling with a forkful of noodles and most of them splashed back into his bowl as he looked up, too quickly.
"Your dreams." Even said in a far away voice that meant he was just realising something important. "Remember up on the hill when we were talking about your dreams? Ages ago. Before L'Erena died."
Lumaira nodded a little, frowning in confusion.
"Yeah?"
"You said that you dreamt that people watched you-"
"Yeah..."
"- And one of them looked like your father..."
"One of them looked like my father," Lumaira echoed numbly, gears almost visibly ticking in his mind. Even looked at him, meaningfully.
"It can't just be a coincidence." And he paused for a long time, staring into space. "They might not be dreams at all."
"You're saying that my father's been watching me in my sleep."
"My theory is that there's some reason why he left," Even said slowly, the words slipping from his mouth as they occurred to him. "Hear me out: I don't think he left because he wanted to but because he had to."
Lumaira sighed, pushing his now empty bowl away from him.
"It's not like I'll ever find out," He whispered, voice weak.
Even watched him for a few moments and then gently pulled Lumaira into a hug. The boy cried, openly and without respite, until the doorbell rang to herald L'Erena's arrival.

Lumaira settled into a listless depression ill suited to his rosy cheeks and colourful attire. He still smiled, but he smiled less; he was still bubbly but bubbly like a soft drink going flat. Even tried to comfort him but Even didn't know what to do and even though they still shared a bed their hugs became the bad kind of awkward and now more often than not Even's advances were rebuked.
Even L'Erena seemed at a loss; the summer holidays were slipping away and they still hadn't been to the beach or had a mass water fight with all the boys from school or watch movies all night long or a hundred other things that Lumaira just didn't seem interested in.
"Come on, Lulu, cheer up,"
A Tuesday and Naminé was in bed, the housework left to her son and his friends. The kitchen was a mess from hurried nights and busy days so the three of them had set about washing dishes, restocking the fridge and cleaning the work surfaces together. L'Erena was babbling on about boys and horror movies and returning from the grave, and even Even was making an effort in the conversation. Lumaira was silent.
When she received no reply, L'Erena sighed and set down her sponge, wiping her soapy hand across Lumaira's cheek.
"Blue face. You don't want to end up like Even, do you."
And she laughed shortly at the tall blonde until he forgave her with a roll of his eyes, and turned back to Lumaira.
"Seriously, Lulu. I know it's a bit of a shock but we've just gotta get on with it, you know? We're all alive and we're all safe and that's what matters."
Lumaira frowned, letting his cloth hang limp over the corner of the counter.
"He should have told Mum."
Lumaira had become almost infatuated with his father ever since he'd brought L'Erena back; if he mentioned a man it was Marluxia.
"You know, we haven't actually really talked to Naminé about this," Even piped up from his place restacking tins in the corner.
"What do I say to her?" Lumaira demanded hopelessly. "Oh, hello Mum, did you know that you potentially fell in love with a supernatural being with the power to bring people back from the dead, who also happened to pass those powers onto his son?"
A long pause that L'Erena broke.
"Good as any."
"If she knew," Lumaira continued, voice back to its normal level, "She would have said something when Even came back. She would have done. Right?"
"She probably had no prior knowledge of the situation," Even said, "But she's got to have her theories. You don't witness the resurrection of two people without having suspicions. There's a chance she's coming to the same conclusions herself."
Lumaira glanced momentarily out of the window to watch summer birds pinwheel in the sky. The feeder outside, stocked with breadcrumbs, boasted half a dozen tits chattering to one another as they ate their fill. Everything seemed so normal.
"I'm scared," He said eventually.
"You're always scared of something," L'Erena scoffed, and Lumaira smiled briefly at the joke - funny because it was true - before falling foul once more of a solemn expression.
"I mean it, though. I..."
He looked meaningfully at his hands. Pale palms, creased with lines just like any other. Deceptively normal.
"I don't even know what this is. I can't control it. What if... what if something happened? What if I hurt somebody?"
L'Erena climbed over Even's tins to give Lumaira a hug.
"It's okay," She murmured. "Nothing's going to happen. Everything's going to be fine from now on. You might not even use your powers again."
For the time being, Lumaira seemed placated. But after L'Erena had gone home and Even had crawled sleepily into bed, he found Naminé - just getting up - and tugged her into a kitchen chair.
"I need to talk to you."
Naminé glanced over at the photograph in its tidy frame, still on the table, and back to Lumaira, levelling him with a steady gaze.
"Yes," She said. "I know."