I originally wrote this fic back for the Valentine's Day gift exchange! I wrote it for my friend nubeazul.

Ever since I read the Grim Lovelies duology by Megan Shepherd, I've wanted to do an alternate universe with Shion and Nezumi. Unlike the doom and gloom of the Grim Lovelies series, though, this one has a much lighter feel and a happier ending! Shion and Nezumi definitely deserve some happiness. I'm all for angst, but usually I like there to be a happy ending to warm my heart.

I hope you enjoy this fic! It was a lot of fun to put together, and at some point down the road, it could be a lot of fun to do some more with it! For now, here's just some nonsense between two pining idiots who don't realize their feelings for each other are mutual!

VITAE ECHO

A tray of lemon bars glistened up at Shion. He reached his oven-mitted hands into the oven, basking in the comfortable warmth that kissed his cheeks, and lifted the baking sheet from the rack. The buttery-gold bars quivered as he transferred them from the heat to the counter.

Shion smiled down at the tray with the same reverence a human might show a magic tome. He padded across the kitchen and set the oven mits next to the sink. The scent of baked sugar and fresh lemon drifted through the morning air; it made his stomach growl and his mouth water.

Shion turned on the faucet and washed his hands with a dollop of lilac-scented soap. The lemon bars needed to cool at room temperature for an hour or so, and then he would dust them with confectioners' sugar and place them in the fridge to cool. Lemon bars tasted best chilled, after all.

On weekends, Karan's bakery opened at ten in the morning. The clock above the oven announced six-thirteen. The lemon bars would be ready to serve just in time for the shop to open.

Shion stepped away from the sink and turned to admire his work. The sheet of still-warm lemon bars sat before him, the aroma of the shortbread crust and sweet citrus curling beneath his nose.

Shion had been struck with inspiration the night prior. He'd made lemon bars hundreds of times before―they sold well enough, so Karan had a fresh batch made every two days. But Shion had never tried making them with a shortbread crust before. He'd bounced on his toes as he pitched his idea to his mother, stumbling over his words as he tried to paint a vivid picture for her.

Karan had simply smiled and told him to "do whatever he thought worked best." Then she'd kissed him on the forehead and bid him goodnight. Karan slept early and woke late―an unfortunate side-effect of using her magic too often. The Spring seasons were the best time to use her particular brand of magic, due to the abundance of flowers. Karan tended to overcompensate for the rest of the year.

The lemon bars had occupied most of his morning. Shion woke at the crack of dawn, then spent the next couple of hours weighing the butter, sugar, and flour needed for the recipe. He'd fetched the best-looking eggs from the refrigerator, the two brightest lemons in the assortment, and measured out the salt and sugar. His fingers itched to pepper the confectioners' sugar now, but he resisted. The bars had to cool to room temperature first. A good baker knew when to hold back. The outcome was well worth the wait.

As the assistant to the Bakery Witch, Shion had an endless supply of knowledge regarding baked goods. There could be no hurried moment or careless touch, no skipped ingredient or ignored step. Shion's reason for existence rested in his ability to make the most miraculous baked goods any human had ever laid eyes upon.

No, that wasn't true at all. Karan's kindness knew no bounds. Stories of her pleasant demeanor spread throughout the Pretty World, and every customer who entered the bakery left feeling important and loved.

Shion still poured his heart into every dish he made. The Bakery Witch had given him a gift he could never repay. Perfection in her beloved bakery was the least Shion could offer.

Shion checked over the lemon bars. He scanned every inch of the sunshine-colored filling, inhaled the refreshing scent of citrus, and waited to see if the whole thing would sink in the center.

When it remained flawless, Shion smiled. The magic swirling through the wooden building would entice them to stay and admire the treats the shop had to offer. But the delightful nature of the lemon bars themselves would convince the customers to take them home.

Portable happiness. Flickers of excitement contained inside buttery crusts and fruit fillings. The Bakery Witch served the public by filling their lives with secret doses of warmth.

Shion inspected the lemon bars a moment longer. As they continued to hold shape and fill the kitchen with mouth-watering citrus, Shion's heart sang.

"I did it!" he said under his breath, excitement making him dizzy. "Mom's going to love these!" He squealed into his clasped hands.

"Bright and early as always, huh, Shion?"

"Safu!" Shion held his arms out toward the tray, an artist displaying his finest work to an eager audience. "Look, look! I did it without looking at the recipe!"

Safu's eyes sparkled, a bemused smile toying with the corner of her lips. She stood in the doorway, dressed in a black sweater. Her auburn hair was tucked beneath a woolen cap, which matched the dark green mittens concealing her long fingers.

"That's fantastic," she praised. She unwound a pale scarf from her neck and hung it on one of the nearby hooks. "Are these the ones with the shortbread crust you were talking about the other day?"

Shion nodded quickly.

Safu pulled the wool cap off her head and shook out her hair. She'd cut it recently; it fell just below her ears, sculpted along her sharp jawline. She bent down and undid the laces of her winter boots. She kept a pair of white sneakers tucked in the far corner. She slipped them on, and Shion caught sight of the bright blue socks tucked beneath her black leggings.

"Your mom's going to love them," Safu said, "provided there's any left for her to try."

Shion grabbed one of the chairs from the nearby table and dragged it over. He gestured for Safu to sit in it, and after she settled in with a "thank you", he pulled one over for himself.

"Of course there'll be some left," Shion said. "Why wouldn't there be?"

"Nezumi's not home, then?"

Shion shifted in his seat. "I don't know," he admitted. "His door was closed when I woke up, but I didn't check."

Safu exhaled. "He should at least help out if he's going to be staying here."

"He lives here."

"Barely." Safu glanced at the nearby kitchen window. The sun had started to stretch above the horizon, painting the sky with beautiful streaks of orange and pink. "He's never home, Shion. He comes and goes as he pleases. If you ask me, it's pretty rude to expect Karan to keep housing him if he's not going to contribute."

"Mom doesn't need any more help," Shion said, though he felt a bit guilty saying it.

In the past, Witches summoned beasties with intent to work them as slaves. Witches embedded themselves in the Pretty World and required workers to carry out their whims. Beasties were a simple way to create an elite line of workers who couldn't leave. Animals given mortal form and taught the mortal tongue. Beasties were bound to the Witch who summoned them so long as the Witch held their pelt hostage. Most Witches felt no remorse for their beastie servants. In the simplest terms, Witches had granted beasties a long human life, so the beastie owed them eternal servitude.

Karan's lifestyle was not as lavish as other Witches', and her intentions were far less cruel. She lived simply. She had a Witch's Boy―her friend Rikiga, who came once a month to give her a pint of blood to use in her more intricate spells―but she didn't behave like other Witches. She didn't weave snares throughout the Pretty World and control an empire from the shadows.

Karan was a gentle woman, content with spreading happiness in subtle ways. Her enchantments were not intended to last. They dissipated soon after consumption, but for a little while, her customers were warm and happy.

Shion helped in the bakery because he enjoyed it. Karan had never forced him. Once he'd been able to form coherent sentences, Shion had asked to work in the bakery.

He'd expected a patient smile and a gentle "someday". Instead, Karan's warm brown eyes sparkled with pride. "That's a wonderful idea, Shion," she said.

She'd taught him every trick and technique she knew about the world of baking. Shion's heart swelled at the memory of their early mornings in the kitchen, Karan's flour-covered hands teaching him how to bake without supervision.

Even if he lived to be a thousand years old, Shion didn't think he'd ever be able to thank her enough for her precious gifts.

"And besides," Shion went on, "Nezumi has a job, Safu. He works at the theater."

"Does he give Karan the money he makes?" Safu asked.

"No." Shion's eyebrows went up. "Why would he do that?" He peeked over her shoulder at the clock. He could afford to sit for a few moments longer, and then he would need to begin making today's batches of blueberry and cranberry-orange muffins. "Mom doesn't need money. She pays me for my work so I can spend it in the Pretty World. She doesn't expect me to pay her to stay here."

"You work in her bakery," Safu pointed out. "It's not the same thing."

Shion exhaled. "Safu, it's not like that. Nezumi lives here, but if Mom had an issue with it, she'd talk to him. He's not mooching off her. He has a job. He's gone a lot, but he does help out when he's here."

Shion enjoyed the times when Nezumi was home. Sometimes Nezumi would sweep the kitchen while Shion cleaned the dishes after the bakery closed for the day. They talked about what books Nezumi recommended, or a new recipe Shion was eager to try out. Shion had started reading more of the classics, and Nezumi seemed to enjoy hearing Shion's thoughts. Or rather, he chided Shion for his "black and white way of thinking"―but Shion had known him for a long time. Mockery was Nezumi's way of expressing happiness.

"All I'm saying," Safu said, "is that it wouldn't kill Nezumi to help out a little bit if he's going to be living here."

Shion glanced up at the clock. "I have to start the muffins." He eased the chair back and rose to his feet. "Would you like to help?"

"Sure. Grandma doesn't expect me back until noon." Safu stood, too. "But this conversation isn't over."

Shion smiled.

⁂

"Have a good night!" Shion called after the smiling Pretty couple that ducked out of Karan's bakery. They held hands as they stepped into the street, looking at each other as if nothing else in the world mattered.

Shion's heart warmed at the sight of them. When the couple had first stepped into the bakery less than fifteen minutes before closing time, there had been tension between them. Shion wondered if there had been an argument, or a minor disagreement, putting a wedge between them.

And yet, as the couple beheld the assortment of cupcakes, cookies, and treats behind the glass display case, the enchantment of Karan's bakery washed over them. The tension eased from their tight shoulders, the shadows retreated from their faces, and Shion watched as the distance between the two vanished until they were holding hands.

Shion sold them four of the lemon bars he'd slaved over that morning. He hoped the happiness of the bakery followed them home, staying within them into the early morning hours. The enchantment wouldn't last forever, but Shion was confident the happiness and the kind memories would stay with them for a long while.

He turned the sign from "OPEN" to "CLOSED" and locked the door. He flipped the front switch to turn off the outside lights and the front half of the lobby, shrouding the shop in enough shadow to assure any approaching customers that Karan's shop was closed until the following morning.

Shion exhaled and ran his fingers through his hair. The silver color was unnatural for Pretties of his age, but Shion's bizarre coloration attracted customers. Teenagers fascinated with hair dye and color contacts spent a little extra time in the bakery. Sometimes they asked Shion who he was cosplaying. The term was unfamiliar to him, so Shion simply smiled and offered them a cookie.

Shion went behind the counter and began wrapping the leftover baked goods in Saran wrap. The buttery scents of the croissants tickled his nose. There were two lemon bars left, and Shion's heart sang. His recipe had been a success.

Once the leftovers were safely wrapped―and the two lemon bars had been tucked away for later―Shion began gathering the display dishes.

He bustled into the kitchen, mouthing his work list so he wouldn't forget what he needed to finish.

Nezumi was perched on the counter, twisting a checkered dishrag between his hands.

Shion's heart skipped a beat as he beheld him. Nezumi's pale cheeks were flushed from the cold, a pale scarlet dusting across his cheeks and on the tip of his nose. Nezumi had already shrugged out of his black leather jacket―Shion saw it hanging on the coat rack, along with the gray scarf―and was dressed in a long-sleeve yellow shirt and worn khakis.

"I didn't realize you were alone," Nezumi remarked, his melodic voice settled around Shion like a warm blanket. "I would've come home earlier and helped out."

"You still can." Shion set the dirty dishes beside the sink and put the stopper down. He turned the tap on and closed his eyes as warm water filled the basin. "You could sweep the lobby for me."

Nezumi hopped off the counter. "You seem like you have a pretty good handle on it."

Shion clicked his tongue.

Nezumi set the dish rag aside and folded his arms. His dark hair was pulled into its signature ponytail, several long strands hanging down over his collarbone.

"So," Nezumi said, "how'd your lemon bars work out?"

Shion's cheeks flushed. "How'd you know about them?"

"Safu told me." Nezumi stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I ran into her while she was heading back to the Stitching Witch's place." Nezumi's eyes flashed, the thunderstorm silver coloration of them swimming with pale greys and blues. "She didn't seem too happy with me."

"I can't imagine why." Shion shut the water off and squeezed a drop of soap onto the sponge. He worked it around in his hands, lathering the suds, and began washing the dishes.

The thump of Nezumi's boots echoed across the kitchen floor as Nezumi came to stand beside him. Shion's spine went rigid as the distance between them closed. He was hyper-aware of the warmth that burst through his body. He and Nezumi had spent much of their lives together, and Shion still felt jittery when Nezumi came too close.

"So?" Nezumi inquired.

"Oh, right. They turned out well! A huge success." Shion set the soapy dishes into the second basin to rinse. "I saved two for you."

"How kind of you." Nezumi leaned against the sink.

"How was rehearsal?"

"Uneventful." Nezumi drifted his hand through the air. "Our lead actors aren't off-book, the show's in two weeks, and once again, my talents went underappreciated."

"Poor Nezumi."

Nezumi turned and stared at him. Shion could feel the weight of his gaze against his shoulders, and he became hyperaware of every movement he made. He wondered if his hair was a mess, if his clothes were rumpled.

Nezumi teased him about it often, but Shion worried about his appearance. His silver hair, red eyes, and strange scarlet mark were strange enough. He didn't intend to add to his strangeness by looking untidy.

"Shion."

He looked up. "What is it?"

Nezumi gestured toward him. "There's flour on your apron."

Shion looked down at the front of his apron. "Oh, come on!" Shion wiped at the smudge of white flour streaking across the lavender fabric. "How does this always happen? I was careful this time!"

Nezumi snorted back a laugh. Shion had a bad habit of collecting crumbs and flour on his apron, in his hair, and across his cheeks. Grumbling to himself, Shion untied the apron's strings and tossed it into the basket of dirty rags.

He smoothed his hands down the front of his cardigan. He felt naked standing in the middle of the kitchen without his signature apron. Outside the window, a single leaf drifted from one of the extended branches. The bushes of lilac trees clinging close to the bakery's walls sent delicate smells through the crack in the windowpanes.

"When were you around flour?"

"This morning!"

Nezumi's lips curled up at the corners. "That's been there all day?"

"Don't start!" Shion ran his fingers through his hair, wincing when he encountered a knot. He was infamous for collecting flour, crumbs, and jam no matter how careful he was. "We had tons of customers today!"

"And you work at a bakery," Nezumi said. "It's not like they don't expect it."

"But it's not professional! I don't want people to think I'm a slob."

Nezumi folded his arms. "Who gives a damn what Pretties think? Their opinions don't mean much. They'd freak out if they learned what you really were."

Shion exhaled and shut his eyes. That wasn't the point, and Nezumi probably knew that. He waited for the twist of nerves to vanish from his stomach. He owed his life to the Bakery Witch. Karan deserved only the best after all she'd done for him.

"Hey, come here a sec."

Shion's eyes opened.

Nezumi reached out and took hold of Shion's wrist. Shion's hands were damp, and there was a bit of soap on his index finger. "We learned how to ballroom dance for the play," Nezumi said. "Let me show you how."

"Why should I learn how to dance?"

Nezumi's eyes brightened. "Why not?"

He drew Shion forward and held their hands up. Their fingers curled together, and Shion could feel the beginning of calluses on Nezumi's skin. He let Nezumi guide his hand down until it rested on Nezumi's hip.

"There's no music," Shion pointed out.

"There wasn't at the rehearsal, either," Nezumi replied. "Don't worry about it."

"OK." Shion couldn't help but smile. "You win. Show me how."

"Excellent. Now, follow me. Step back. Like that, good. Then forward."

Shion tried to follow Nezumi's movements, watching Nezumi's boots and trying not to step on his toes. Nezumi led him in a slow circle around the kitchen, announcing, "One-two-three-four, one-two-three-four". Shion let Nezumi guide him around the kitchen, trusting that Nezumi wouldn't let him crash into the wall or stumble.

"Nezumi!" Shion laughed, after another few minutes of aimless twirling. "This is ridiculous―I'm not good at this!"

"You're fine. Now keep up!"

"No, I'm done." Shion let go of Nezumi's hands and stepped back. Warmth bubbled through him, swelling up like a wave and cresting. He smoothed his hands down his cardigan. "I have to finish cleaning the bakery."

Nezumi stood in the middle of the kitchen. The scarlet hue had vanished from his cheeks, and his silver eyes flashed in the light.

"Not bad for a first lesson," Nezumi said. "You kept up. I'm impressed."

Shion turned back to the sink. "It's a lot more of a workout than I expected."

"At least you didn't step on my feet."

"Has that happened?"

"Entirely too often." Nezumi rolled his eyes. "Thank god for these steel-toed boots or else I'd be down a few digits."

"That's horrifying." Shion quickly finished washing the dishes and rinsed off the soap. He left them in the dish drain, and then hurried over to the broom and dustpan. "Nezumi, could you dry the dishes, please? I have to sweep the lobby."

"Where's Karan?" Nezumi asked.

"I think she stepped out to go visit Safu's grandmother." Shion grabbed the blue handle. "It's something to do with territory lines and the Royals."

"Witch politics. Boring."

"That's why Mom doesn't invite us."

Nezumi cocked his head to the side. "Y'know, I've never asked this, but why do you call her 'mom'? I'm a beastie, too, and I don't call her that."

"She's like my mother," Shion said. "She made me."

"She didn't make you. You were one thing, and then she made you something else. That doesn't mean she's your mother."

Shion picked up the broom and held it against his chest. The cool metal stung his fingers, or maybe he was squeezing it too tightly. "She made us into human beings, Nezumi. We were something else, and she decided to make us human beings. She's been kind to us. I wouldn't know half the things I do if not for her."

"So, by your logic, her turning you human and teaching you means she's your mother?"

"She raised me," Shion explained. "So, yes. I call her 'mom'. Why does that bother you?"

"I never said it bothered me." Nezumi stuffed his hands back into his pockets. Shion noticed he usually did that when something bothered him. "She turned me human and taught me, too."

"You don't have to consider her your mother," Shion said, "if you don't want to."

"Do you consider her my mother?"

Shion's heart clenched. "Why does that matter?"

"Because if she's your mother and you think of her as my mother, then that would make us brothers."

Shion's tongue tasted like metal. He rolled his fingers down the broom handle. He'd never thought about that before. He and Nezumi were created by the same Witch. The Witch Shion called 'Mom' because she'd been the one to make him the person he was today.

Shion turned away. He could feel Nezumi staring at his back, the weight of his stare boring into his spine so hard Shion wondered if the bones would break.

"I have to clean the bakery," Shion said. "Let's talk about this later."

Shion hurried about to the bakery to begin sweeping. He knew Nezumi could come after him, but he didn't think Nezumi would. Shion had never acknowledged his feelings for Nezumi, but he'd never once considered them familial. Nezumi had always just been there, warming Shion's world with his mere presence.

Hearing the word 'brother' made Shion's stomach churn. His very existence railed against it. The moment the word left Nezumi's mouth, Shion wanted to cry out, "No! You're not my brother! You're―"

But he didn't know what word to say.

When Shion returned to the kitchen, Nezumi was gone. The dishes in the drain had been dried and left on the rack to be put away.

⁂

Long after the bakery closed, Shion sat on the edge of his little bed in the upstairs corner bedroom. His walls were decorated with assorted recipes, most of them from a collection of wedding planners from the Pretty World. On his dresser were more recipe books, several of the pages stuffed with scraps of paper to mark the pastries Shion desired to craft.

As a beastie, Shion would never know the thrill of creating true magic―but baking felt like its own form of the Enchanted Arts. Pastries could hold so much flavor in small packages. Brilliant colors and beautiful images contained within something not intended to last. A charming display of hours of hard work.

Before the pages had fallen into disarray, Shion had flipped through the wedding books every night. He marveled at the pictures of Pretty men and women kissing beneath the setting sun, awash in a delicate assortment of colorful roses. Shion would sigh and smile as he wondered what it would feel like to kiss someone.

Karan had kissed his forehead and his cheek plenty of times, but Shion viewed her strictly as his mother. For all intents and purposes, Karan was Shion's mother. She'd given him life, housed him, and taught him the tools of her secondary trade in order to guide his way in life. Her gestures toward him were familial and comforting.

Safu had kissed him once, but it had been on the cheek. Her face turned bright red after, and she'd quickly wished him goodnight and fled back to the Stitching Witch's workshop. Nezumi laughed at him when Shion explained what happened, telling him he was "completely clueless."

The truth was, when Shion pictured kissing someone, he always fantasized about Nezumi. He dreamed of running his fingers through Nezumi's long hair―soft and silky, Shion knew, because he'd done it once when Nezumi was half-asleep at the breakfast table―and pressing his mouth against Nezumi's the way the Pretties did in his books.

Shion wondered if Nezumi had gone off to his room, or if he was sulking out on the streets. He hoped not. Pretties walked the streets during the day, but the darkness belonged to the Goblins. And while Goblins were kind enough on the outside, but Shion worried often about the shadows that lurked beneath their painted smiles and the brown glass of their eyes.

Though Shion supposed he and the other beasties were the same. Before Karan had drawn him out of his old skin, Shion had been an animal. Shion didn't know what kind of animal he'd been, as most beasties didn't, but it didn't matter. Those memories were meaningless. Shion couldn't remember the days before his mother gave him a life. Human life. Glorious and sometimes a bit frightening, but wonderful all the same.

Shion's memories of his first weeks as a human were hazy, but one stuck out clear as day. Shion had been exploring the grounds outside the bakery―supervised by Rikiga, who stood on the porch smoking from his pipe―when he happened upon a mouse caught in a trap.

The poor thing's front leg was broken, blood streaked in its grey-black fur. Shion freed it from the trap without a second thought and soothed it even when the mouse bit his fingers.

Beasties were incapable of using magic, but Shion knew someone who could. Someone who could fix any problem with a simple wave of her hand. Still unable to form complete sentences, Shion sprinted across the grass, stumbling up the stairs and skirting around Rikiga. He'd run through the kitchen, cradling the little mouse in his hands, shouting for his mother.

Karan had kissed away Shion's frightened tears and taken the wounded mouse from his palms. In the soft warmth of Karan's grasp, the little mouse ceased squirming. Giving him another smile, Karan took the mouse upstairs and into one of the spare bedrooms.

Shion didn't watch Karan perform her healing magic on the mouse. He'd sat in the living room and cried while Rikiga awkwardly tried to comfort him until Shion fell asleep.

The next morning, Karan came downstairs, not with the mouse but with Nezumi in tow. She'd pulled him from the mouse's flesh, repairing his damaged bones and turning him into a creature strong enough to withstand the snap of a mousetrap.

Shion and Nezumi's introduction had been... rocky. Excited at the prospect of a new friend, Shion held his hand out to greet the other beastie, and Nezumi―still feral and frightened at the time―bit him hard enough to draw blood.

Shion unconsciously rubbed the spot between his thumb and forefinger where Nezumi's new human teeth had punctured. An unsteady friendship had formed between them as Nezumi's cognitive abilities grew, and soon, Nezumi became as much a part of Shion's daily life as Karan's baked goods and Rikiga's pipe smoke.

At some point, Nezumi had woven his way into Shion's very being, melding into his blood the same way the language of magic, the Selentium Vox, had threaded through him and transformed him from animal to human.

Shion couldn't imagine a world without Nezumi. His heart ached when Nezumi was away for longer than a few days, and his thoughts soared when Nezumi took the time to tell Shion about his day and the strange books he read.

But brothers?

Shion had never considered Nezumi to be his brother.

With a sigh, Shion flopped back on his bed and shut his eyes. He wished he'd been brave enough to tell Nezumi how he felt. He wished he'd voiced his heart's desires and told Nezumi how important he was.

Shion shut his eyes and let the darkness of the evening drift over him. He might not have been brave enough to speak his mind when it mattered, but at least he was brave in his dreams.

⁂

At half-past midnight, Shion grew tired of tossing and turning.

Sleep had evaded him, no matter what methods Shion tried to calm his pounding heart enough to drift off, and Shion didn't feel like waking Karan up for a sleeping tonic.

Fresh air worked as well as a potion, and so Shion pulled on his cardigan, eased open his bedroom door, and crept down the hall.

Karan's bakery had a small trapdoor in the attic leading to the roof. Sometimes Shion crept up there when sleep escaped him and watched the city below. He eased the door shut, careful not to let it slam, and crept across the roof. The wind ruffled his silver hair, a cool dusting kissing his cheeks and calming the pounding of his heart.

Shion stared out at the sea of stars. Kronos was a little district, a well-secluded section of a larger city Karan referred to as "District No.6". Shion curled his fingers into the fabric of his cardigan, seizing the warmth and pulling it into his core. The cool midnight air dusted his cheeks, fluttering over his silver hair and tickling his nose.

The Pretty World could be overwhelming, in larger quantities. Shion sometimes ventured out to the coffee shops and bookstores with Safu, wandering down the cement sidewalks to the Stitching Witch's house or into the heart of downtown to visit Inukashi and their hounds. Shion felt at home in the company of the other beasties, but it didn't erase the over-stimulation of the mortal realm.

Sometimes Shion wondered if the anxiety lingered from his previous life as an animal. Pretties in his mother's bakery didn't unnerve Shion, but outside of his home turf, he shrunk away from their prying eyes.

Shion took a deep breath. The night belonged to the Goblins, but Shion couldn't see any on the streets below. If he did, he would duck inside, despite the protections of the Bakery Witch's home. No Goblin mischief could breach Karan's impressive wards, patched together with crushed asters and a few pints of Rikiga's donated blood.

A low creak startled Shion from his musings. He whirled around and saw the trapdoor edging open, and Nezumi's silver eyes flashed in the shadows.

Shion's heart jolted. "Nezumi?"

"The hell are you doing?" Nezumi climbed onto the roof with ease and kicked the trapdoor shut behind him. Shion jumped, hoping it hadn't woken his mother.

"Couldn't sleep," Shion said, watching Nezumi quickly close the distance between them. Nezumi didn't bother looking out at the city lights. He spent most of his time out in the Pretty World, and it no longer held the same wonder. Shion also supposed that, as a mouse, Nezumi had thrived inside the darkest corners of Kronos. Even though he couldn't remember his life as an animal, some of the novelty of the human city must have worn off.

Nezumi folded his legs and sank down next to Shion. His dark hair was tied back, bunched in an unruly knot at the top of his head. He wore his trademark leather jacket, but the superfiber cloth was missing, granting Shion a glorious view of Nezumi's slender throat.

"I didn't realize you were home," Shion said, before silence could creep between them and make it awkward.

"Went for a walk," Nezumi replied with a shrug. "I just got back."

"Oh." Shion looked back out at the city, at the pale stars peppered throughout the ocean of inky blackness hovering above his head. The longer he looked at Nezumi, the more he remembered the pain in the pit of his stomach after he'd failed to tell Nezumi how he felt.

"It's nice up here," Nezumi went on. "Better than being down on the streets."

"I come up here often," Shion said. "When I can't sleep."

"Hmm." Nezumi sat back on his hands.

Below them, a couple in matching green outfits bustled down the sidewalk. Shion couldn't catch enough of a glimpse to tell if they were Pretties or Goblins, but their outrageous clothing made him guess the latter. Shion didn't feel as anxious outside with Nezumi perched close by. Though he was sharp-tongued and snide, Nezumi had an aura about him that made Shion feel safe whenever he was near.

"Nezumi," Shion said, his tongue heavy and thick behind his teeth, "about earlier―"

"Don't worry about it," Nezumi said with an indifferent shrug. "It was stupid."

"It's not, though!"

Nezumi's eyebrows raised at Shion's sudden shout.

The moment the dam cracked, the truth came pouring out like frozen water. Shion turned to face Nezumi and said, "You're not my brother. You never have been. I know Mom made both of us human and we've spent most of our lives together, but you've never been a brother to me, Nezumi. You're―you're so much more than that."

"Shion―," Nezumi interjected.

"You're cynical and rude and you make fun of me over every little thing I do. But you also look out for me. You ask me how I'm doing, you help me out at the bakery even when you're tired, and you bring me trinkets from the Pretty World because you know I don't like being out there alone. You mean so much to me, Nezumi, and I just―I don't know how else I'm supposed to―oh, the heck with it!"

Before Nezumi could react, and before Shion's nerves could stop him, Shion leaned forward and planted a kiss on Nezumi's mouth.

He caught Nezumi by surprise, because the kiss landed on the corner of his lips. It only lasted a few moments before the butterflies in Shion's stomach urged him to pull back.

Shion opened his eyes and stared into Nezumi's face. His silver eyes were blown wide, panes of quicksilver and thunderstorm gray twisting in the irises. Other than the shift in his eyes, Nezumi's expression was blank, as if Shion had merely commented on the color of the midnight sky rather than giving him an impromptu kiss.

"Huh," Nezumi said.

"I'm so sorry." Shion's face burned. His eyes stung and his vision tunneled until all he could see was the distinct shape of Nezumi's shoulders. "I shouldn't have―I shouldn't have done that."

Shion flinched as Nezumi reached out and cupped his face in his palm. His thumb brushed the delicate curve of Shion's cheekbone, the rough scratch of calluses dragging over his flesh.

And then Nezumi pulled his hand back and showed his thumb to Shion. The whorls and swirls that made up his unique thumbprint were obscured by a smear of white flour.

Shion reeled back and scraped at his face with the back of his hand. "Again? I haven't been in the kitchen for hours!"

Nezumi snorted.

Shion's body flushed with warmth. He felt embarrassed and overwhelmed and sick. He flinched as Nezumi's hand returned to his face, his thumb pressing against the center of Shion's lips. If Nezumi was going to make fun of him, Shion wished he would get on with it so he could scurry back inside with his tail tucked beneath his legs.

And then Nezumi replaced his finger with his lips.

Shion jolted with surprise. Just as quickly as it began, Nezumi pulled back. The silver glimmer of his irises caught in the streetlamps.

"Nezumi," Shion said. "What―"

"I'm returning it to you," Nezumi replied. "So you can try again."

Shion's cheeks burned.

Nezumi started to sit back, and Shion's heart clenched in his chest. A second chance. Nezumi was giving him a chance to try again.

The uncertainty trembling through him burst in an explosion of red and blue stars. "Nezumi, can I―is it OK if I―," Shion started, and when Nezumi stifled a laugh, Shion had his answer.

His arms circled Nezumi's shoulders. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Nezumi's. It felt better than the first time he'd tried; the kiss landed on Nezumi's mouth rather than the corner of his lips.

And then the sparks escalated as Nezumi kissed him back, a thunderstorm rolling through his body all the way down to his toes. Shion's hands snaked into Nezumi's hair. He fixated on the sensation of Nezumi's arms drifting around his waist, pulling him closer. Shion twisted the silky strands around his fingers and tugged gently, the way he remembered seeing in the photos of his wedding books.

Nezumi must have liked it, because instead of pulling back he sighed against Shion's mouth and pressed their bodies together.

The bubbles of excitement churned beneath his skin. Shion wondered why it had taken him so long to kiss Nezumi. Now that he'd given into his greatest desires, he couldn't believe a time had ever existed where Nezumi didn't know how he felt.

The same twist of excitement that filled him the night Karan turned him human came to him now. Shion felt new and warm and trembly, and he knew he never wanted it to stop.

"I like you," Shion murmured against Nezumi's lips as he drew back to catch his breath. "I like you a lot."

"I can tell," Nezumi replied, but there was a lightness and warmth in his tone that made Shion want to hug him and kiss him all over again until it was the only thing he could think about.

⁂

Shion stared out his bedroom window and watched a Goblin sprint down the sidewalk. Her electric blue hair stuck up on top of her head like a pair of tentacles. Shion wondered if it would be fun to run outside at night. He wondered if Nezumi would go with him.

Shion closed the curtain and turned back to Nezumi, who was still dozing on the bed. The digital clock on the nightstand announced twenty minutes past three AM. Nezumi's breathing was soft and even, but Shion knew Nezumi was an exceptionally light sleeper.

Shion's stomach was still filled with butterflies. As far as the kissing on the roof had gone, they kept it chaste. Shion had begun to shiver as the night crept on, and so Nezumi suggested continuing somewhere warmer.

Even after moving inside, safely tucked inside the walls of Shion's bedroom, they hadn't gone much farther than a few soft kisses on the lips and a few exploratory kisses on Shion's neck that made him squirm and giggle. Shion knew fundamentally what came next―and he was positive Nezumi did, too―but it was unfamiliar and exciting and Shion wanted to take his time navigating the beginning of their new relationship.

As Shion wandered back toward the bed, he felt as if he'd finally stepped over a threshold. From animal to human to something more. There was no coming back from the place he'd discovered, but Shion knew no matter what his future held, he would never regret taking that first step.

He saw the clock, and his heart swelled. He'd never been awake this early. It was thrilling and different. Shion hadn't slept much tonight, but he didn't feel sleepy.

"Would you get back in bed already?" Nezumi grumbled. He was curled up on his side, his head pillowed on his arms. His eyes were still closed, but despite the harsh tone of his voice, his lips were curled at the edges.

Shion crawled onto the bed and flopped beside Nezumi.

It was new. Sleeping together in Shion's too-small bed, legs tangled together and arms wrapped around each other for warmth. Shion's heart fluttered at the excitement of it. He'd imagined sharing his bed with Nezumi for years. Now that it was happening―no longer a kind dream Shion enjoyed without the possibility of existence―Shion felt giddy and nervous and eager.

It was the same sensation that had overwhelmed him those first few weeks when he'd awoken and realized he was human. A few steps forward into new territory that Shion could only barely navigate on his own.

Shion closed his eyes and exhaled. He felt Nezumi's weight beside him, the warmth of his body radiating beside him. Shion's heart skipped a beat as Nezumi shifted closer to him, sliding across the bed, drawing their bodies closer to one another.

"I like you," Shion echoed, because even though he was certain the other word would convey his true feelings, he wasn't certain if Nezumi was ready to hear it just yet.

Nezumi hummed in response and angled himself closer to Shion, as good an answer as if he'd spoken the words himself.

THE END