Its the small things that remind him that he still exists.

Like the fact that he wakes up now at the sound of an alarm clock and an impatient stomach rather than the gnawing feeling that one part of him is either going to get killed or will be the one killing. Or that goodbye is no longer a word that uproots tre pidation and buried anxieties but is instead a promise to meet again soon. That he can hold Takanes hand and feel the warm press of skin rather than the cold surface of a screen between them. Its not easy all the time. No one said it would be. He forgets sometimes, has a hard time recollecting where he is. Has a hard time accepting its over, but the heavy weight of his limbs and the collection of swallowed screams always tended to evaporate at the feel of a set of gentle fingers through his hair and help him cope. It never got easy but it was no longer hard. They all learned to cope with the small things because it was the small things all they had left. It was fine however, because eventually, I died, Im sorry became Im here, its okay and everyone seemed to be okay with that. --The first thing that crosses through his mind as he rouses into the state of the living is that its very cold. And not the occasional breeze on chilled feet kind of cold but the kind of cold that makes your entire body do a spasm of sorts and then try to feebly to wrap yourself up in a pseudo burrito looking heap of the nearest blankets; that kind of cold. Its probably the only reason why he woke up in the first place because if its Takanes annoyed (but fond) reprimands as he stumbles into the kitchen anything to go by, he usually tends to wake up close to one in the afternoon on a weekend. The thought of Takanes disgruntled scowl suddenly reminds him of the distinct lack of said Takane. Its probably the reason why he is so awfully cold. Takane was always a good cuddle partner during the colder seasons and a rather terrible heat furnace during the warmer ones. Reluctantly (very reluctantly might he add), Haruka unwinds himself from his blanket burrito and submits himself to the cold. He instantly regrets this decision as another cold induced spasm racks his entire body and hes left furiously wrapping the nearest blanket around his large frame. Its not much since it hangs just above his knees but it will have to do. He vaguely remembers a comment Kano made involving the nickname Goliath and he feels a rush of embarrassment rise to his cheeks. He tries to discreetly pull the blanket a little lower even though no one is around to notice. Takane and Harukas shared apartment isnt much and its small interior can get a bit frustrating when Haruka has, on more than one occasion he wont admit, bumped his head on th e too low door frames. It never fails to cause Takane to giggle into her hand which, in itself, is pretty worth it but Haruka can only take so many bruises to the forehead. But besides the little imperfections, its home and Haruka is grateful that he can use the word again. Their apartment is set up in such a way that its easy to recognize where one spends the most of their time at. Takane opts for more plain and practical pieces while Haruka will take almost anything that catches his eye. Takane never passes a day where she hasnt almost tripped over some little cute souvenir that Haruka had thought he needed at the time. Occasionally it backfires on him, like right now he thinks as he trips over a stuffed dinosaur he had won at a little booth in the fair Momo had taken him too. Haruka picks up the stuffed creature and eyes its round black eyes and frowns. He pats its head and tucks it under his blanket, continuing on his trek to the kitchen where he is sure to find Takane if the soft clinking coming from that particular direction is anything to go by. When Haruka stumbles (this time it was a little hello kitty toy with a set of headphones around its neck but to be fair, the only reason he got it was because Takane had been staring at it for five minutes straight) into the kitchen he finds Takane drinking from a carton of milk. The only reason its even remotely amusing is because Takane always berated him when he drank out of the carton and judging from the wide eyed, deer in the headlights look Takane is giving him, the rule still stands. Takane immediately shoves the carton back into the

fridge as if there was still a chance of covering up her crime and stares at him in all of his rumpled I just woke up glory, cheeks flushed with mortification. Why are you awake? she scolds in an attempt the veer the situation away from her. Why are you drinking from the milk carton? he counters only to have the remnants of the empty milk carton knock into his chest. Its like, 6 AM, you usually dont wake up until well into the afternoon, Takane huffs. You werent in bed. Haruka says, making a point to wrap the blanket a little tighter around him. Takane eyes Haruka up and down carefully before she sighs and flops back against the fridge, turning to stare at a stain on the opposing wall. Couldnt sleep, she murmurs with a small shrug and its the only thing Haruka needs to hear to know it was one of those nights again. They never did bother asking each other things like Did all that happen? or dwell on the occasional, lingering effects of a ghost-like feel of bruised arms wrapped around each other in a shaking embrace, because, really, its all redundant. The mutual looks they share after particular nights such as the one Takane experienced earlier is enough of an answer they need. Without delay or second thought, Haruka crosses the room to envelope Takanes entire smaller form in his blanketed arms, the dinosaur plush making a soft squeak of protest as it is crushed between them. Takane may act like she is opposed to silly things like feelings but really, she is just as vulnerable as all of them were, still are. She doesnt bother to hug him back but the look she gives him as she gazes up at him is good, even better really. Ah, I dont want to ruin the moment Takane, Haruka murmurs after a minute of silence. But you have a bit of milk on your upper lip. And ruin the moment he does because Takane is already on the other side of the room, shouting furiously at Haruka and flinging the nearest object (the headphone hello kitty) at his head whilst furiously rubbing at her lip. Adjusting to normal life is difficult but as Haruka watches Takane splutter and blather out feeble threats whilst sporting the remnants of a milk moustache he realizes, or rather, has realized for the hundredth time, that he wouldnt trade what he has now for anything in the world.