The hot days of July finally arrived. Someone bumped into Oliver's side as he crouched behind the bakery's front counter. He tossed a glance in the direction of Siegmund bent over, grasping his stomach from silent laughter, save from the sharp intakes of his gasps for air.

"Keep quiet," his brother warned from the other side of the mute. "The best part hasn't even happened yet."

"If that is the best part," Kuro murmured from Oliver's left. "Please, enlighten me, Oliver-san. What prompted you to gather here, and celebrate Matt-san's eighteenth birthday? None of us had celebrations."

"Since you were in jail, and Lutz did not have his birthday yet, so he does not get a party yet," Oliver easily shot back. He put a finger to his lips. "Hush up, now, so we can hear him come in. It will be delightful, I assure you."

The gathered group wriggled from kneeling for a long while, but tensed when the front door groaned as it opened. Heavy footsteps scuffled on the tiled floors, nearing their spot. "Oliver?" A low voice called out. Matt was just on the other side of the counter. Lutz made a cut throat motion at his brother, who's shoulders shook with laughter. "Seriously, Mundi, you were supposed to be here by seven."

Oliver flapped his hand, using the signal for the group to spring up and shout, "Surprise!" at the blond. Matt stiffened, eyes wide without the cover of his sunglasses as Siegmund twisted a cylinder container. Confetti rocketed in the air, and fluttered down in a shiny rain against the blond's confusion.

"What's the surprise?"

"Happy Birthday!" Oliver clapped excitedly, glancing side to side at everyone's awe of the confetti. "I made cake for you!"

"Did you?" Matt dumbly asked.

Oliver whisked back into the kitchen. A vanilla frosted cake sat on the wrap around counter, and he snatched a packet of candles from a nearby drawer. He emerged with the candy embedded cake, topped with nineteen candles sticking from the icing. The others backed away from the flames like wild animals. The baker set the giant treat on the counter, smiling at Matt. "Make a wish, and blow out the candles."

"Why would I do that?"

"That is what you do at birthday parties!" Oliver insisted, taking a step back from the fire. "Quick, before the wax gets onto your cake!"

Matt appeared to be lost for a moment. "What kind of wish?"

"Do you not know what wishes are, dear?"

"I do," the rugged blond muttered, and studied the flames with a crooked mouth. "So, I just...blow them out?"

"After you make a wish, but do not tell us! It will not come true!"

"That's stupid."

Lutz said, "That's not true. Unless there are little fairies flying around, bent on ruining people's wishes, there is no logical reason that vocalizing his desires will guarantee them from not coming true."

"It is a tradition," Oliver urged with a swishing hand. "If anything, fairies strive to fulfill wishes."

Instead of listening to his supposed nonsense, the bakery suddenly snapped to darkness as the flames blown away from a long drawn out wheeze of air. Everyone clapped politely. Kuro flicked the lights to their full brightness as Siegmund rubbed Matt's back affectionately. The blond seemed pained, unless that was him trying not to smile like a happy fool.

Oliver emerged from the kitchen with a stack of plates and a huge knife. Just when the party goers eased and congratulated Matt, they gawked and backed away from the sight of the smiling baker wielding a glinting blade. "Why are you all looking at me like that? Do you not want cake?"

"Fuck yeah, I want some cake," Matt said. "It's my birthday."

A short lived bout of snickers rose from the group. Oliver's grin widened as he held out a paper plate topped with a (un)healthy slice. "The first piece is yours. I hope you like marble. I could not decided on chocolate or vanilla."

"Both," Matt declared, putting his brother to shame with how much he fit into his mouth without choking. "Both is always good."

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

Luciano asked the others once they clumped together at one of the tiny tables, "For a nineteenth birthday, what's the excuse?"

Lutz put in, "Final year of being a teenager?"

"I thought once you become eighteen, you are classified as a legal adult."

"It still has 'teen' at the end, though."

Matt asked, "Okay, for twenty?"

Oliver pointed out, "You are finished with being a teenager."

Kuro pushed away his third, half eaten slice, and groaned as he clutched his stomach. Siegmund eagerly took to polish the abandoned plate. Matt tipped a pocket of pop rocks into his mouth, a present courtesy to the baker. "That's carrying out the previous birthday's cause."

Luciano tipped his head. "That is just another reason to throw a party."

"Like that's a bad thing?" Matt hung his mouth open so the candy crackled loudly.

"I didn't say that," Luciano glanced to Oliver in the corner of his eye, earning a curious look. "I wouldn't mind more parties."

"Are we going to go home now?" Kuro quietly inquired. "It is getting rather late."

"I suppose," the Italian sighed, and rose to his feet.

Matt stood as well. "That goes for us, too."

Siegmund was trying to gather the empty plates for the garbage bin, but Oliver shooed him away. "Away with you. I can clean up my own bakery."

Luciano seemed to struggle with his jacket. Lutz tried offering help, but the brunet snipped, "The car is going to be hot! Get the air conditioning turned on." Kuro just stared at his housemates until Lutz followed after him. "Oliver."

Said man looked up from wiping the table. "Is there something you need?"

"Did you make all this up?"

Oliver's tone was sharp, "What, did you not enjoy yourself?" He scrubbed the table more vigorously.

"No, no!" Luciano hissed, tossing a glance at Matt and Siegmund exchanging pleasantries by the door before they would go separate ways. "I did. I was just wondering if that is something people do that I didn't know about."

"Luciano," Matt called, "Siegmund is wondering if you are coming or not."

Luciano's lower lip slid out in a slight pout, still confused. Oliver rested a light hand on his shoulder, assuring, "If there is anything you want to talk about, you can tell me. I will listen."

"Uh, si," the other teen stumbled away, double taking to the baker as he moved to join his housemates.

Oliver wondered if he corrupted people. The door shut, and he thought all the party goers were gone as he dumped the used paper towel in the trash, until a low voice rasped, "Oliver."

He jumped, whirling on Matt. Everyone seemed to want to talk to him! They should have, thanking him for the lovely party he set up, after all. "You haven't left yet? Did you want to stay and keep me company?"

The blond's mouth pulled down as Luciano's headlights flashed, and drove away. "I haven't had many reasons to celebrate my birthday, our birthday. Allen was always the one to drag me to get milkshakes on this day with the money we managed to save up."

Oliver's fight with the chair against the table legs ended with a gasp, "Oh, how cute!"

Matt grunted, and flicked his ponytail over his shoulder to distract the blush rising to his cheeks. "What I'm saying is, why don't we celebrate when my brother comes back? We can join that with everybody's prison release."

"Matt, is that what you wished for?"

"I-I thought you said I shouldn't say it aloud."

"That is something to tell children, dear."

"Then why did you tell all of us that?!"

Oliver shot back, "You had fun, did you not?"

Matt clenched his jaw for a tense heartbeat. "Seeing Lutz came back, and how it affected Siegmund...he never smiled so much before. I wished my dumb brother to come back, so we can get milkshakes. It's been too long."

"So do I," Oliver quietly admitted. The bakery was too quiet, and he could not fill it up on his own. "However, I will leave the milkshakes between the both of you."

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

Summer lolled along, and Oliver was startled by a random phone call in the middle of the day he had the bakery closed. "Oliver," Luciano's voice was hushed on the other line, "You said I can come over and talk about stuff. That's what I'm going to do. I'm going to go over there, and talk to you, so...yeah! I'll be over in a half hour!"

The baker slowly took the device from his ear when the other man hung up without giving him a chance to refuse, if he were going to. It was good that the bakery was closed that day. Oliver fired the stove for two cups of tea.

Once he arrived, and settled, Luciano stared at his mug as if it spelled out what he wanted to say. There was only milky liquid, halfway drunk and growing colder under his sharp violets. Oliver sat across him, shaking the foot bent over his knee. His humming only faded to partake in his own drink. "You can start whenever you like."

"I don't have to pay you for the therapy session, right?"

Oliver considered what to say. "Would you? Ha, ha, I am just being silly. Of course not...well, not money-wise, at least. Pay me in your words."

"Oh, how kind," Luciano murmured.

The baker prompted, "What troubles you?"

"Um, everything? I have to stow my art supplies and musical instruments in a closet at my house. There are not nearly enough pieces to base my works on, anyway."

Luciano was starting out small. Oliver nodded to the beat of his bouncy voice. "The world is your base, dear. Do not be afraid to use it. It is there for a reason."

"Aside from that, nobody sings. It's just so sad," Luciano's voice wavered. Oliver arched his brows in surprise. Clearing his throat as he scowled at the table, the brunet claimed, "Even if you go and try to be a kind person, and talk about that stuff, everyone is too arrogant to listen. They always look at me like I'm some kind of freak. I try, Oliver. I try to be patient and understanding, but they're so..."

"Afraid?"

He stiffly nodded, and his mouth quivered as moisture pooled in his eyes. "I don't know what to do. How to help them, how to help myself. I'm scared, too. It feels like I'm alone, but I'm surrounded by p-people-" He broke off to a sob, shakily gasping as drops pattered on the table.

Oliver knew to wait until everything came out. Luciano blubbered, his hands balling into fists against the tabletop. "Why? Why can't everyone get over themselves? You can't even say hello to someone walking on the streets. I wish I could get over myself. It would be so easier if I were like them instead of being the airhead like Flavio says I am. He says I shouldn't dream, and I-I think he is right, but I can't help it."

"Luciano, hush," Oliver reached over to put his hands on the other's fists, generically soothing, "It is going to be okay."

"It is really?" With a loud hic, a large tear ran down Luciano's cheek, and plopped on the smooth surface. "I can't let Lutz or Kuro be know about these...awful things! They'll think I'm weak!"

"You are not weak," Oliver sternly told him, making sure to hold Luciano's gaze, even through blurry eyes. "There are many kinds of strength. To think differently from the norm is a feat in itself!"

"No, I'm just a rotten meatball hiding in a delicious bowl of pasta."

Despite the odd idiom, Oliver insisted, "You are not a meatball. You are Luciano."

"And what's that mean?"

"That means you are your own person, with your own ideas, your own thoughts, and own feelings."

Luciano made an attempt to catch his tears with his jacket sleeve. "I-I just feel like that I can take a long vacation, far, far away from it all, and never want to come back, but I don't want to be on my own anymore."

Oliver bit into his lower lip as he slowly retracted his hands. "Luciano, what if I told you that you do not have to be alone?"

The other teen blinked rapidly, clearing his eyes. "What do you mean? I don't think Kuro and Lutz would like me telling them these things."

"Of course they won't. Perhaps they would take it better if someone else told them."

"Really? Who?"

Oliver uneasily smiled, hoping he was not doing something brainless. "I know somebody who would appreciate the company. I think you two would get along splendidly. He likes art, and pasta, too, maybe more than you do."

"What?" Luciano seemed to take most offense from that. "No way! Who is this person? Where can I meet him?"

"Luciano, I am going to tell you something out of this world," Oliver started in a lower voice. His visitor leaned into the table, the edge jabbing into his chest. "Listen to what I am about to say before you start calling the closest mad house."

The Italian considered that for a moment, his mouth pressing to a thin line. "I'm listening."

"There are others...living as we are, but separately, in many forms and planes of existence. Universes linked and overlapping in some ways, achievable through different methods-"

Luciano blurted, "Is your friend an alien or something?"

"I said listen!" Oliver warned. The other man eased back into his chair. "People from different universes can contact one another through the Realm of Spirits, which is the converging spot of both our place and a place similar to ours, but different in many ways that I believe you would enjoy a lot."

"Okay..."

"However, this...meet is only accessible in your unconsciousness." Oliver noted the way Luciano's eyebrows knitted together, getting lost in an open mind. "Your dreams are the gateway to these other universes, especially to this one parallel to ours. You can meet your universal counterpart...in your dreams."

"Oliver," Luciano snapped, the dazed expression sharpening to anger, "are you trying to make a joke with me?!"

"I am serious!" Oliver barked back. "When I say in your dreams, I literally mean you roam around in your sleep! You can meet this person in your dreams!"

Luciano settled in the chair again, narrowing his eyes. "How do you know this? Are you making this up? Are you on drugs?"

"Am I...Gosh, what? No!" Oliver was growing impatient. "I have been there. I met my counterpart, and stepped into his world when he expressed his wishes to do so! It was through his body I had to live through..." He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I do not want to give away all the great surprises, if you mind."

"Even if this is all real, if I can go to dreams and universes through my sleeping unconsciousness, how can I possibly get there?"

Oliver tapped his index finger to his own lips. "It was rather easy to switch. It felt natural. I would say a healthy, deep sleep will definitely do it. Maybe a summoning incantation to send you off...the veil needs to be ripped on both sides in order to meet face to face..."

All Luciano could manage through his ramblings was, "What?"

"Luciano, we are going to need to do some voodoo magic stuff for this. I need you to come upstairs with me."

"Magic who what?" The other man echoed, but Oliver did not leave him a choice other than uncertainly following him to the stair case. "Fine, but I have to be back before sunset! Lutz locks the house up, and I forgot my house keys at home!"

Oliver wound up giving Luciano a potion (so cleverly disguised in an alcohol flask), which included the concoction of deep sleep, and enlightenment, to stimulate the mind as it drifts further from its body. His company was more worried about the container the dark liquid sloshed around in. "Where did you get this?"

"Do not concern yourself with that. Just drink your elixir a few minutes before bed."

"If you poison me, I'm going to be mad!"

"You would be dead, if it were poison. Which it is not. Go on, now, before you get locked out of your own house."

As Oliver watched Luciano hurry down the sidewalk through his front windows, he wished him, "Sweet dreams."