It's in these small moments — the seemingly insignificant ones wedged between the more memorable, with the afternoon light splashing color along the room and warming the chill air, that make this important. They don't speak at first, finding no need when alone like this, lying next to each other as equal protectors and providers.

Although it had taken some time in the aftermath of everything that had happened, and considerable persistence, Nao drew away from the gentle caresses less and less these days. His first instinct had been to mistrust Sora's naked acts of affection, unable to adjust to being treated not as an object, nor a fragile glass figurine. A human. In return, he ceased to objectify Sora as his shield, accepting and trusting in him as his very dear friend.

Shifting to get comfortable, Sora must have misread the move as an attempt to leave, and Nao supposed they still had a long way to go in terms of reading each other. He looked forward to that more than anything.

"Fujimori —"

"Shut up. You're ruining it."

Sora paused for a second, processing the mistake when Nao smirked, which he returned with a relieved smile. They settled back down, exhaling together, of one mind and body. With the departure of Ran and Yoru, the line between them had all but dissolved, and they were grateful. No longer separate, but whole.

Moving away from the door carelessly left ajar, Matsuri studied the developing photograph. It was amusing how his friends could so vehemently deny the word love, and yet the evidence was as clear as the picture became with a little patience. Perhaps his two friends would never say it, but did it really matter?

No. He had enough pictures to cherish, enough time with them to know for himself, and in a way, it was almost ideal. Matsuri kept secrets very well, and appreciated being so close to them to see it.

"So stubborn Nao-kun, Sora-kun."