writing for me is really hard, but as I was laying in bed the other night, trying to go to sleep and imagining this in my head I thought, 'hmm, maybe i'd better write this down.' so i did. hope u enjoy :)

"He blames me," Winter finally said. The words tumbled haphazardly out his mouth, scrambling over each other to get out. "I can see it in his eyes."

A thrilling chill swept through him, making his heart skip a beat in a way his mind refused to accept. He felt so eager to talk, more than ever, but he wasn't sure why. Um, hello? The booze is making you loose lipped, duh, the voice in his head snarked. You dummy. This's what you get for thinking it'd be a good idea to get trashed. Welp, don't say I didn't warn you. And don't come crying to me when you say something stupid and screw it all up with her forever.

Dammit. He hadn't planned on a confession. This wasn't part of the plan. He'd just wanted to feel good for a little while.

Well, he supposed he'd gotten his wish there. He felt good, alright. In spite of the tears rolling down his cheeks and flecks of barf decorating his front talons, he felt good.

3 seconds… 5… 10… 30 seconds passed without a response from the other party around. Well, that was fine. He kind of wanted her to say something, yes, but then, he wasn't really in a position to be making demands. They'd already gone out of their way, traveling hundreds of miles and risking their hides to help him retrieve his beloved older brother.

If she didn't want to talk to him, then that was fine. He could just listen to the breeze whistle through the cattails growing next to the riverbank instead.

"…Yeah."

Her voice was quiet, barely a whisper. He didn't need to look at her to know she was staring at the ground, unable to hold her head up for fear she might meet his eyes. She'd certainly gotten more of a personality over the course of their escapades but there were still some things that were too much for her.

Another time-distorted bout of silence passed.

…He was expecting her to say sorry, actually. Because she'd done a lot of that when they first met. It almost seemed like she'd apologize every chance she got. It made him a little mad, to be honest. One of the few things about her that genuinely ticked him off. He'd wanted to yell at her for it, clarify for everyone else that it wasn't worth the trouble and actually just made her look pathetic. He knew better than anyone that sorry wasn't worth a damn.

"So what, you just gonna sit there in silence all night? I thought you were tryin' to make an effort to be more social." He turned on her, a slight crease in his brow. Her head snapped up reflexively, and for the first time since she'd followed him out there she looked him in the eye.

Stars. He couldn't believe how pretty her eyes were. He wished she'd never stop looking at him.

"I…" She opened and closed her mouth, and held it there. After a moment she broke off, looking down at the ground again, brows furrowed, then out at the river.

"I mean, I thought about saying sorry. But… then I realized… that'd probably just make you mad." She looked back at him, eyes full of pain. "Not like it would change his mind. Or what happened."

His vaguely hostile expression vanished. His throat tightened, like someone had tied twine around his trachea and pulled it taut.

Was he still drunk? He didn't feel good anymore.

He looked back out at the delta. Around them crickets and cicadas and other creepy crawlies serenaded each other with a high pitched rattling tune well into the night. The moons were bright overhead, 2 out of 3 nearly waxed in full and the third not far behind. A slight warm breeze that came and went whistled through the trees and bushes, making them rustle softly, while the cattails down at the edge of the riverbank waved slowly back and forth like lazy metronomes. When it wasn't blowing they just sat there stiffly. Winter would be troubled to name a more bizarre looking plant.

"I dunno what I'm gonna do," he muttered. "…Maybe build a house… far outside the reaches of civilization… and live alone the rest of my life. Be a hermit." Or…

He swatted a rock and watched it roll a few feet down the hill.

"What are you talking about?"

He stared at the ground. His brain went through the motions of trying to find something to say but came up empty handed.

"I dunno…"

Moon stared at him worriedly.

It was bad enough to find Winter stumbling around the streets of downtown Possibility, getting accosted by a random shop owner for drunkenly trying to steal a pie. Winter, the tightly wound prince of the Icewings, known for being vociferous zealots of strict social etiquette, making an ass of himself in front of hundreds of people for no good reason? Next you were going to tell her Clay was going on a diet. Then there was having to drag him all the way back through said town, and having him retch all over Mayfly's clean floor…

Now she was here, coming to find out there wouldn't be a need to break the bad news. At least now she had an explanation for the whole incident.

First Kinkajou, and now this… at least Qibli was there to talk the guy down and crack stupid jokes.

She just wished he would talk to her.

But if he didn't want to, then she wouldn't make him. She of all people knew how hard it could be to tell people the truth.

Still, she could at least be around.

It's not like she hated him. Or even disliked him, for that matter. Actually, she was curious. She'd been inside his head. Wanted… to know what a happy Winter was like.

"I just thought this would fix everything, y'know." He sniffed. "That once he was back, and we were back home, we could just forget this ever happened and go back to being a family again. And me and him could go back to… fooling around and having fun and… and going on scavenger hunts again."

"…Maybe you could," Moon offered. "You haven't gone back yet. Maybe once he's back in familiar territory he'll change his mind."

Winter looked at her like she'd grown a second head. "Don't tell me that observant comment earlier was just a fluke-" he bit his tongue. "…Sorry. Didn't mean to snap at you."

"Don't worry about it."

"It's just… I don't think that's gonna happen," he snorted bitterly.

"Why's that?"

His gaze grew glassy. "Something tells me this isn't something that can be fixed."

He's so dreamy, Qibli would say. Look at him. Doesn't that tragic look on his face just make your heart melt? Then he'd pull a perfect mimicry of that look they all knew by now, hanging his eyelids at half mast and pursing his lips slightly. It was funny- even better with the dialogue- and she couldn't help but laugh. Especially when he did it at the most unexpected times.

She found nothing funny about it now.

She knew from the memories that that was the face that Winter lived with. He wore it all the time because the only other face he knew how to make was one twisted with pain and sadness and sticky with tears and snot and no one wanted to see that.

The only other person he felt truly able to show his feelings around was long gone- dead, as far as he knew. And now that he had him back it became quickly apparent that the Hailstorm he knew was well and truly dead.

So that was it. He was trapped, alone, with only his ugly worthless feelings to keep him company, on his lonely island at the end of the world.

Actually, that wasn't true. He'd made other faces in the last couple months. Smiling faces, laughing faces. Even joking faces. Around them. They had caused him to make those faces. And maybe it was just her imagination but she could swear there were times he'd forgotten all about his stolen brother and his country and those awful, pornographic memories that demanded his attention, grabbed his mind's eye and wrenched it into their grasp and told it to watch, watch, look what you did, you did this you worthless excuse for a son, so go on, watch as they played over and over and over and over and over-

I have to do something.

But what?

She sadly knew very little about him. They'd known each other almost a year and yet she could hardly name a single thing he liked, aside from the generic stereotypes. …Maybe art. She thought she might've caught him doodling in his notes in class, and Qibli told her he'd walked in on him sketching a few times. I've never seen him move faster than when he was shoving those papers underneath his pillow, he said, before cracking a sly grin. I wonder what he was drawing? Probably something naughty~

Aside from that though, she had no idea.

So all she had was her gut. What gave her comfort when all she wanted to do was crawl into a hole and die? She had one idea.

He looked at her as she walked over and sat down next to him. Their scales touched, and she leaned into his shoulder, and he tensed up, his breathing suddenly becoming very slow and measured, but didn't say anything. She extended a wing over his back. After a minute of sitting there, she brought her right wing up to rest on his head and extended her left to do the same, intending to pull his head down.

"What the hell are you doing?" He barked, batting her wings away with his own and backing away. Again he looked at her like she was crazy and her cheeks darkened.

"U-Uh- I- Um-" She looked down, shrinking into herself. Caught in the act. "It's- my, mom- she used to- um-"

She glanced up. It surprised her to find him not really looking angry, just confused. She winced internally. Why was that surprising? He had gotten better about controlling his temper. Note to self, give him more credit.

She took a deep breath, sitting up straight. "When I was sad or overwhelmed, my mom would cover me with her wings. It always made me feel better. I… thought you might like it, too."

His express turned calm. He looked at her what felt like forever.

Then he stepped in and rested his forehead in the crook of her shoulder. She blinked, her cheeks darkening even more. When she recovered she wrapped him in her wings, blocking out the sounds and sights of the world, turning her body into a safe haven where he wouldn't have to worry about the awful things other dragons said and did. It was a little awkward, considering he was slightly bulkier than her, and her mother was a full grown adult, not just a dragonet, but it still mostly worked.

After a few minutes he started to tremble, and she could feel cold wetness on her chest. He tried to keep his whimpering and blubbering to a minimum but quickly gave up, letting his own crooning join the cricket and cicada songs that lit up the night.

Moon was silent, her face setting into a distant, thoughtful expression as she rubbed his back.

Eventually the sobbing died down, and he stopped trembling, and a short while later he pulled away.

She looked at him, not saying or doing or even thinking anything, just staring at him, studying the snot dripping from his nose and the tear-tracks left on his cheeks. It occurred to her how out of place they looked.

"Thank you," he croaked, looking at the ground.

"You're welcome." She smiled softly. "…We should probably be getting back. You don't want to fall asleep while flying and fall out of the sky-"

"Wait."

She stopped, turning around.

"There's… something I have to tell you." He shifted his feet, squaring his shoulders. His tired blue eyes gleamed with a flash of complete, honest determination.

"I love you, Moon."

Moon's eyes widened.

"…You… love me…?" She repeated.

The crickets and cicadas were deafening.

"More than I've ever loved anyone," Winter said, his eyes huge, terrified. "Even Hailstorm."

Wanted… to know what a happy Winter was like.

"…Ok."

Winter held his breath. Ok? Ok? What… what did that mean? Was that good? Did it mean ok yes I love you too Winter or… did it not? Did she not love him back? Was she about to tell him that she didn't-

Before he could say something, she walked up to him, stopping when they were about six inches apart.

"How would it make you feel if I said I loved you, too?"

Winter blinked. "…I think I'd be the happiest dragon in the world."

Moon smiled and laughed. "I love you too, Winter."

It took Winter's brain a second to process the words. When it did a wide grin broke on his face. He laughed nervously.

"You… you do?"

Moon was still smiling at him. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

Winter laughed again. "Oh." His heart was beating so fast he thought he might pass out. "Cool."

As he studied her face, heart still pounding like a herd of caribou stampeding across the tundra, his gaze wandered to her lips. We're really close, he noted. I could kiss her at this distance-

Suddenly his lips were on hers. They were soft, and warm, and- and-

He held her close, feeling like he would fall off the world if he let go.

Far too soon(it would always be far too soon) he pulled away, leaving her to just sit there, blushing like crazy.

They were both bushing like crazy, actually.

"We should probably be getting back," she repeated.

"Yeah," he replied. "Ok."

She started off back toward the clinic, and he followed after her. It wasn't long before they stepped through the gate to her herb garden, brushing past hordes of overgrown bushes and trellises, and then were inside the clinic.

"Good night, Winter," Moon whispered, ducking into the other of the 2 spare rooms Mayfly was letting them stay in. "See you in the morning."

"Yeah." He peeked into his room, relieved to see Qibli and Hailstorm sleeping soundly. "See you."

He stepped into the room. Stepping softly so as not to click his claws on the floor, he made his way to an open spot and laid down.

He didn't close his eyes right away, instead staring out into the semi-darkness, broken only by the moonlight streaming in through the small round window opposite the door, listening to his brother and clawmate snore.

It was rare for him to get a good night's sleep. The frequent nightmares he had made it difficult.

He wondered if another nightmare was waiting for him tonight.

He smiled and closed his eyes.

Something told him it wasn't.