The ground on the cliffside was cold, but Alvis didn't mind. He never really had, though with each passing year, it seemed to get to him just a little bit more…

"Hey. Want a blanket?"

He didn't need to turn to know it was Shulk behind him—the thoughtful, quiet footsteps had given him away. Alvis could, in his mind's eye, imagine him carefully stepping around the bits of scrub and weed that grew slowly upon the cliff.

He stood—Shulk laid down the blanket where he had been—and they both sat. The sunrise had passed about ten minutes ago. A lid of darkness was retracting from the sky, beating its final retreat below the horizon. It was a stunning sight, all things considered. Alvis had ancient records of sunrises stored somewhere in his memory, but they were heavily edited, seen through a camera lens that was at the mercy of its director. The Titans' sky had simply slowly faded into lightness—there was no sun to rise, after all.

When the sky was finally completely blue, Alvis took a moment to look at Shulk next to him. Hmm. That was interesting.

"Did Fiora do it for you this time? It looks neater than usual."

"Ah—yeah." Shulk fingered his hair, freshly cut and styled. A little shorter than usual—his carefully-shaven nape was visible. "Well, she made me onion soup, and I accidentally looked into the bowl of the spoon, and—well, you know. She wouldn't let me do it with a kitchen knife then and there." He shuffled uncomfortably. "She asked if I'd like something different… How does it look?"

Alvis raised a hand to take a lock of Shulk's hair in his fingers. It was gorgeously blonde and soft, like always. And Fiora had done a wonderful job.

"Exquisite," he replied, and meant it.

Shulk blushed. "You say that every time."

"Well, it is true, is it not? But today… It's especially nice."

The smile that crept over Shulk's face was slow and uncertain, but radiant all the same.

Still, there was sadness in that smile.

"I've thought of growing it out. Like Dunban's. But I can't… I can't get over it. I always think I'll be able to, and I can't. Even after all these years."

A long, familiar silence stretched between them. Alvis stared at the rising sun, letting it wash out his vision. It couldn't hurt him, after all.

"I thought letting go would be a single event," Alvis began slowly, "but it isn't. I've been letting go every day since then. Every moment when I thought it was finished was only the beginning."

Shulk looked down at his knees, and closed his eyes. The first kiss of sunlight began to slide over his fingers as he slid his hand over Alvis' and squeezed.

"Yeah."

"My mind—in spite of it all, my mind keeps returning, over and over, to the same place. And then the pain comes over me all over again. It never stops hurting. Maybe it's dulled a little, but…"

His hand, beneath Shulk's, felt cold. And his silence was equally fragile.

"Me, too." Shulk murmured, "Sometimes it's like I'm right back there again. All over again. Like all that happened after was just a dream. And then I have to let go again. I have to… it's like my mind is a fist, and I have to peel it open, finger by finger…"

Their hands twisted together, and their fingers entwined. Sunlight splayed its way across the young sea. The familiar silence they had both learned to enter rose up to contain them once again, warm, without pretense, without performance. It peeled them both open, finger by finger.

"This is not a dream, Shulk."

"I know. If it were…"

Alvis leaned in close, and kissed him.

Shulk entangled his fingers in Alvis' hair, and Alvis entangled his fingers in Shulk's. They moved closer, welcoming one another, holding one another in each other's arms, tightening their entangled fingers. Breathless, endless. Even when they finally separated, together.

"Sometimes I feel we're just the same," Alvis said, looking away with a soft smile. Shulk laughed, taking Alvis' cheek in his hand.

"No—you're you, and I'm me. But that doesn't mean we're so different."

The lightness of Alvis' laugh danced in the air for a few moments—and faded away. It was a common sight. All too often, his joy would snap in the middle, stopped in its tracks by invisible chains. He lowered his eyes, and looked back to Shulk, his gaze filled with weight too old to cast off.

"Do you go the same place as I? When it happens? Somewhere outside of and within yourself?"

That same weight lowered over Shulk—perhaps it had always been there, simply hidden away for a little while.

"I think so. I think it's pulling at me all the time. That place."

"I do my best to pull you away."

"I know. But I don't blame you when you can't."

Alvis lowered his head to Shulk's shoulder.

"I'm glad Fiora could help."

Shulk smiled. "Me too."

As Shulk's fingers took Alvis' silvery hair, Alvis sighed. He hovered within himself for a minute or two, his eyes seeing something else, lost to the present.

"But it won't end," Alvis eventually murmured, blinking. "It's always there. So many parts of him are within me… are part of me. Simply being myself is a reminder."

Shulk was silent.

"I know. I know how it must feel for me to say that to you… but please understand. It was so long… for so long, we… I…"

Shulk's arms tightened around him.

"Sometimes I wonder," Alvis' voice began to shake, "Sometimes I wonder if I'm only in love with you because of…"

"Shh." Shulk brushed his hair gently. "Shh."

"At times I yearn… I yearn for…"

"It's okay." But Shulk's voice shook, too.

"I— I—" now Alvis' whole body was shaking. "Shulk, I…"

A quiet sob. A memory somewhere Shulk couldn't see.

"I'm sorry. "I'm… so, so sorry. So long passed. There were… there were so many people I could've… I could've… all those worlds, all that time… and I merely…"

A cloud drifted into the sky, and Shulk clutched the weeping Alvis to his chest and lay back on the blanket. He kissed him on his temple and brushed his hair aside again and wiped a tear off his chin. The sky drifted on, lightening, the young sun on its slow climb as it would be for as long as anyone could manage.

"You know," Shulk began, his voice low. "He took so much from everyone. Not just from us, but from… everything. Every person. Every living thing. And… it hurts…"

Shulk stopped. Swallowed.

"I've… I've got to grow beyond him. Everyone has got to. Everybody. I think we've just got to be ourselves, because before, we couldn't be. There was so much over us. We were clinging on to the little bit of life we had, the little bits of ourselves, of what was inside us. And we got enough together to overcome him once. We can do it again. I have to believe it."

"Shulk…"

"You're right. Every day is letting go. I have to stop myself, over and over again… But even the parts that were him are me. I am me. That's all I can be. And I'll do my best. You, too."

Alvis squeezed him a little tighter for a moment. The tears around Alvis' eyes had stilled, leaving a puffy redness, and he released one hand for a moment to wipe at them, before wrapping it around Shulk once again.

"I think one day… you'll be able to grow out your hair, just as you want."

Shulk smiled down at Alvis.

"I hope so. And you…"

"Me?"

"I'll be there for you, whatever you need."

Awakening on Alvis' face, a smile.

"Me, too."

"Thank you, Alvis."

"My pleasure, Shulk."

Shulk laughed, and Alvis laughed, and the sun rose over the new world.

(a/n) Thank you very much for enjoying this fic for so many years. Truthfully, I started it to cope with being in a difficult place. In some ways, I still remain in that place, but I like to believe I have grown, both personally and creatively. Xenoblade has grown quite a bit, too. What a strange feeling, for the weird game i liked to become a popular franchise-for worse and for better. Here's to many more lovely stories being put into the world.

Thank you, dear reader. I treasure you. It feels like coming home.

-Snazz