As children, Touya and Cheren were, in the immortal words of their mothers, little hellions. One did not stray far from the other, and if they did, it was time to pack up and run.

When Bianca moved to Nuvema, the dynamic changed. Though they played together all the time, suddenly an unknown had entered the equation. One and one could not equal two with an extra variable. Suddenly, sleepovers had three sleeping bags and three pillows and three bowls of ice cream. But Bianca always sat in-between them, sugary and sweet. It was imperceptible to them then, how much distance one little girl could put between them.

As they grew older, they mellowed and gained inches and learned values so different the contrast was night and day. They stood feet apart and could not tell what the other was thinking.

But it doesn't matter. Everyone grows up, Cheren would say.

But it can't matter. Everyone grows apart, Touya would agree.

Cheren wishes, sometimes, that he could remember his childhood. Things like the movies they watched or what grades he got in school come to mind, but these are trite and uninteresting. How can he remember these things, but not the night Touya's father left and he came to Cheren's window, ending up breaking a pane as he tossed pebbles to wake the other up? Or when they had their first fight, shouting and screaming and promising never to see each other again, only to come crawling back a day later, sobbing apologies?

His mother tells him stories, and Cheren can't quite figure out if he believes them or not.

Childhood is a sorry affair, Cheren decides, shifting as Touya sits beside him, allowing thighs to touch and sending sparks skittering up his side. Distance renders him incapable of finding the comfortable ease he had once had in situations like this, where they curl together to share body heat in the cold brought on by the end of fall and evening frost.

He can hear the other breathing, so softly it could be the wind. He wonders if Touya can hear him as well, how loudly his heart is beating, the tremble in his fingers.

This is a kind of power, too, he thinks. The power to unravel and unwind, to take away coherence of thought and rationality of mind.

And when Touya leans against him, warm and tired from walking between Driftveil and Chargestone Cave, he decides that breathing can wait. The other's weight is heavy and thrilling, and it makes him shiver from something other than the cold. He gulps and does not think.

"Where do you think Bianca has gotten to?" Touya asks, some minutes later.

"Perhaps she's still in Nimbasa," Cheren utters, words a little breathless.

"Mm. Maybe."

It has been a long time since Cheren's watched the stars with Touya at his side, and the way they fold against each other now is familiar, like wearing an old, favorite shirt. The tenseness eases away and he's not afraid to press their thighs together a bit more closely.

It is sweet and silent, like faded childhood memories. When there is no distance between Cheren and Touya and Touya and Cheren, everything feels just about right.

I should maybe really really start writing more CherenxTouya fics because they are hella fun. Ah well, can't wait for them to have more time in Summer Brave! By the way, this is a little birthday fic back to DainoChild, whom was very kind and wrote me a pwnsome Kuroshipping story for her Valentine's day requests. Thanks so much, dear!