"—and this is where Kido and I live," Mary concluded, gesturing at the room. Momo peered at it curiously.

"It's so clean!" she exclaimed, surprised. The room was remarkably free of clutter, for being shared by two teenage girls. Clothing hung neatly on hooks or in the closets, and nothing but Mary's flower-making supplies occupied the desk. "Even the bed's made," Momo continued, flopping down onto the pink quilt that covered it. "Mine never is."

Mary shrugged, perching next to her new friend. "Well I don't sleep here most nights, so I don't have to make it that often…" she didn't want to admit that it was mostly Kido's efforts that kept the room clean. Although Mary had always kept her house clean when she lived alone, her room there had been at least a little bit more cluttered than it was here.

"Huh? Where do you sleep?"

Mary was aware of the reaction it'd provoke, but she said it anyway. "In the boys' room."

Momo gasped. "Huh? How come?"

The smaller girl hunched her shoulders, self conscious. "Well, Kido doesn't like it when I climb in with her, and sometimes I get scared, and—"

"You sleep in their beds?" Momo demanded, even more scandalized, and Mary winced.

"Not in Kano's bed," she clarified, as if that made it better. Momo stared at her for several seconds, but then slowly her shoulders relaxed and she took a deep breath.

"Sorry, I didn't expect that of you two," she laughed, patting Mary's head, and Mary sighed in relief at the fact that her friend wasn't rejecting her. "You should have told me you had that kind of relationship."

Mary didn't see what she meant. After all, she and Seto had always been close, and even now he often carried her places or let her sit on his lap. It was natural for the two of them to spend time together. Why wouldn't Momo have expected it?

"How long have you been, uh…" Momo trailed off.

Confused as to why it mattered, Mary answered, "I've been sleeping in his bed since I came here, I think. Four years ago? Five?" Human time was baffling with its precise little increments, and Mary was still having trouble adjusting to it.

Meanwhile, Momo had a hand over her mouth, her face slowly going red. "I understand you age slowly, but wouldn't he have been like, eleven?" she asked, hesitant.

A fond smile grew on Mary's face, and she nodded. "He was really tiny back then. It's weird to think he's grown so much." Momo didn't seem to be sharing in her nostalgic memories, however. She actually looked a little bit freaked out.

"Mary," she asked hesitantly, "don't you think that's a bit, um, young?" Mary stared at her, and then everything clicked into place. It wasn't like she was totally naive; she'd read enough BL manga to realize what Momo was talking about.

"NO!" she shrieked, covering her face, "not sleeping together sleeping together!"

"OH THANK GOD," Momo yelled at the same high volume, flopping onto her back with relief. Mary's face burned with embarrassment as she tried to chase mental images out of her head.

"We just sleep in the same bed! It's totally innocent!" Mary insisted. It was mostly innocent, anyway— she didn't need to tell Momo about sleepy kisses she'd managed to steal when Seto was too tired to exercise good sense.

"YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME THAT FROM THE BEGINNING," Momo replied, her ears red with embarrassment. The two continued to scream at each other goodnaturedly and laughed it off, and soon the incident was mostly forgotten.

But not entirely.

That night, Mary was trying to fall asleep in Seto's arms, her back to his chest and his chin resting on top of her head. His breathing was already starting to slow down, but she couldn't fall asleep.

"Hey, Seto?"

"Mrnm?" His reply was unintelligible, but she felt him shake himself awake, ready to hear what she had to say. The attentiveness made her smile, and she ran a fingertip back and forth across the ridge of his knuckles as she tried to put together what she wanted to say.

"I told Momo I usually sleep with you." And it was 'usually' by now, where it had once only been 'sometimes'.

"Uh-huh?"

"She thought I meant we were sleeping together."

His reaction was immediate; he released her to attempt to cover his face in embarrassment, but she anticipated it and caught his wrists before he could take his arms away. He buried his face in her hair instead, and she felt his body heat increase. She couldn't see in the dim light, but there was probably a blush running all the way down his arms to the backs of his hands.

She let him wallow in embarrassment for a few seconds until he finally replied. "We'renot."

"I know that," she snapped, and it came out childish and crabby sounding. She inhaled, gathering her courage before asking, "but why not?"

"You know why not," he said, and his voice sounded miserable. But this was news to her.

"No I don't," she replied. Whatever it was, it was something he'd decided on his own.

"Mary…" he sighed, exhausted. "You're like fourteen."

"More like a hundred-something," she replied, testy.

"You're going to be like fourteen for the rest of my life." He sounded like he was reciting memorized lines now, and she felt frustration growing in a tightly wound ball in her stomach.

She wanted to say something clever like 'which means we're running out of time', but by the time she'd thought of it the silence had stretched on too long, and it wouldn't have sounded right. Instead she breathed deep to calm herself, snuggling back down into his arms. After a second, his hands re-folded themselves in front of her again, and she felt him relax.

She was almost asleep by the time she heard him mumble 'I'm sorry'.