The time was undefinable. It was the odd moment between what one might call night and morning, when the clock's numbers became irrelevant, the moon's position entirely futile and all that remained was the haze of the night's activities before. If Even remembered correctly, they had been quite strenuous. His back was stretched, his arms were sore, his wrists were bruised, his neck was knotted, and he had never before felt so entirely satisfied and overwhelmingly confused.

Sleep eluded him, or at least it had entirely refused his summons no matter how many sheep he counted, or periodic table elements he recited. This was not entirely new, and there was a note of comfort to the insomnia, for it brought to his attention that he was not alone. No, Lumaria had chosen to stay. He had not expected it. He was not even entirely sure that he had wanted it, but that warm feeling in his stomach told him that apparently this caused him some form of assurance. Relearning emotions was no easy task and it certainly irked him in ways which he could not express in cohesive thoughts, which served to irk him even more.

For instance, staring at Lumaria's back in the moonlight revealed an aspect of this man which brought him great curiosity. There were a handful of rather 'cosmetic' scratches (understandable, given the events of the night before he recalled with a slight shiver). He looked again now in the calm of a more gentle darkness and there were silvery scars, running along his flawlessly smooth skin, remnants of deep cuts and wounds, old scars which refused to heal after all these years. Even reached out, his fingers ghosting the skin, casting harsh shadows across his form.

Lumaria immediately drew away, sitting up and turning to face the other man with an insulted look of surprise alight in his eyes which quite clearly revealed that he had not been sleeping either. Their thoughts, apparently, had been far more important than the rest that they desired. Strange, that they had to turn in opposite directions to fake slumber in order to let it consume them, respectively.

Lumaria's eyes seemed to demand an answer to a question he did not voice. Even understood, regardless. "Your back. You were once injured." He stated softly, as though reading the fact from a lab report. Lumaria's eyes narrowed dangerously. Even might have believed that they had shared nothing a mere handful of hours ago. The treatment would not have been unexpected though, granted. It had not been the first time and it would certainly not be the last.

"Not every man is lucky enough to have a childhood where someone was willing to care." He explained simply, his voice smooth, guarded, and almost regal. It dared Even to feel pity, scoffed at the notion of having a 'hardened past', or being 'misunderstood'. It demanded attention and respect in a way that none other before could have.

Even looked amazed as he sat up as well, the covers splaying over his slender form, his brows knitting in a haze of confusion. He chose to speak once again, his voice a hint raw, soft. "Turn again. I think that I have a salve which can help-"

With a stubborn flourish, Lumaria sprang from the bed and stood before Even, hands on hips in proud defiance, a smirk playing at his full lips, entirely naked and so uncaring that Even could have sworn that he looked his fiercest. "I do not need your help, Even." His tone was controlled, low and confident. "It is you who needs me. I have absolute control over my emotions. Even reawakened, I know exactly where I stand. Do you?"

"Yes, yes, of course you are." And with that, Even waved off his bravado for exactly what it was, childishness. He stood from the bed, tall, slender and in his own way quite majestic, a porcelain figure of white, draped in the countless folds of his sheets as his long, silken hair hung about his expression of tired compliance. "Better late than never." The enigmatic smile on his own face made even Lumaria's confidence falter. as he looked at the other man, bathed in moonlight (...sunlight, maybe?) it was impossible not to see that he commanded something deeper within him, something paternal.

Even wrapped a blanket over Lumaria's bare body, protectively drew him back to his bed still in a half daze. Lumaria sat obediently as Even took a small, delicate bottle of potion from his night table. He applied it to his fingertips and slowly he smoothed it over the scars. He was careful to the point of being almost paternal in nature. "Life has certainly not been kind to you." He continued, those fingers expertly tracing along the scarred tissue, cool and comforting. Lumaria hummed in response, neither confirming nor denying.

"Regardless, I'm glad you're here." With a tone of finality, Even swiped his last bit of salve on and scooted back to admire his handiwork. There was a calm moment when Lumaria sat, calm and minutely euphoric. 'Unconditional'. His mind produced the word without reason. These sorts of occurrences were not entirely unexpected at this time of night...or rather, morning.

"Thank you." Lumaria whispered. He felt a chaste kiss at the base of his neck in response. The sun was rising and he finally felt ready to rest.