Warmth. Safety. I can't tell where my skin ends and the air begins. This existence has such a soft hold on me. I merely lay back and let everything wash over me.

Nothingness fills my mind. A calm fills my soul.

I don't know how much time passes with me like this, but I'm slowly pulled from my trance and into my surroundings.

Voices slowly trickle in through my ears, overwhelming, yet I can't focus enough to understand what they're saying. I take a step (I'm standing?) forward, hoping the noise will clear itself if only I can find one source.

"-o..?"

I freeze. Am I going in the right direction? I spin, slowly. Once I reach my first position again, (was it?) a child figure stands before me.

"Hello..?" he repeats while leaning closer.

The features of his face come into focus as I notice the other figures around me. I take a step towards him; I feel a sense of trust with him that I lack with the others.

"Do you have friends yet?"

I try to find a face in the crowd, but nothing focuses. "I don't think so."

"That's okay. I'll be friends with you!"

Temperatures drop quickly, as if each faceless figure sucks the heat straight from my bones. I find myself closer to my new friend (did I move?) and bathe in his warmth. I need to be closer. The cold is too hard to bear alone.

His smile widens as he tells me, "I'll protect you," and holds out his hand to me. "Nothing bad will come to you, Raiden. Do you trust me?"

I reach out, pulled in by his presence, and take his outstretched hand. Every good feeling comes flooding back to me and I grab tighter to make sure it doesn't escape.

"Yes, Adam."

I blink, and time flies by. I never left his side and he kept his word. I can't see it happen, but I feel it throughout me.

Months and years pass, one glimpse of a memory at a time. I reach out to them, making out moments every time my fingertips graze over one.

I'm on the ground, bully with a face just out of my field of vision towering over me. But then he's not. I'm not. Suddenly, the bully's gone, and Adam stands above me, hand outstretched. Well, suddenly, but at the same time it feels so very natural.

And it's gone as quick as it came.

Valentine's Day. I don't have as many cards as everyone else. They've broken the rules, given everyone else one but me. And then I have too many. I try to hide a smile as I hide the cards within my desk. Adam gives me cover, shoving the last of his stolen gifts to me.

And lunch swaps. He always brings the best snacks, and always sneaks extras into his bag when his parents aren't looking.

As grade school slips into middle school before me, I find myself wading in the deeper ends of our memories, everything becoming clearer and clearer. I drift aimlessly. These memories aren't from that long ago, it seems. When they start to stray from their original path, I take notice again.

We're 12 again. Adam's living room, Mario Kart, and a bag of chips we snatched from the cupboards when his mom wasn't looking. I'm totally kicking his ass, but I can tell it isn't because of my raw skill.

He jumps out of his skin, nearly dropping his controller, as a sharp sob from the kitchen cuts over the game music.

The game is paused now.

I try to reach out, but my body is cemented in place. "Adam..?"

"Mom?"

And suddenly we're both standing in the doorway to the kitchen and facing down his parents. Tears creep down his face and I can't help myself from taking his hand in mine.

"Mom? Dad? What's wrong?"

I know this part. This is the day Mr. Loeffler received his damning diagnosis.

Next, the sugar coating and the slow, tortuous descent into the bad news. I prepare myself to be firmly suggested to leave, but the moment never comes. Instead, what follows is a bunch of medical jargon as he explains his diagnosis, before Mrs. McAllister dumbs it down for us kids. I don't retain any of the information. I can't. I was never here for this part. My subconscious knows this and sends me waves of anxiety, telling me to leave, to put this memory-slash-dream thing back to its true course.

My hand is still stuck inside Adam's, no matter how hard I pull away. "Adam, I don't think I'm supposed to be here for this."

"No, I need you here. Why can't you stay?"

"I thought you didn't want me here. This was big news and you needed space to be with your family."

"Yeah, but," his hand tightens even more around mine to try and stop the shaking, but it doesn't help. "I really need you right now. I really need you. I can't do this alone..."

"I would, but this is a really personal family matter."

"Raiden," Mr. McAllister interrupts, "you know we consider you family. You're like a second son to us. There's nothing we need to keep from you."

Mrs. McAllister chimes in. "You don't have to stay, but I think it would be best if Adam had someone to talk to. There's only so much comfort a parent can offer."

So I stay. I don't purposely choose to. I'm still just along for the ride.

More time passes by, and I'm getting quite used to it by now, though it's strange seeing everything in this altered timeline. These months were spent alone. Adam wanted time alone with his father before he passed and didn't need me getting in the way of their time together. Or at least that's what they told me. It occurs to me that Mr. McAllister must've used this time, in real life, to teach Adam about their weird cult tradition thing. It's different here. Now I'm with him, every second of every other day.

I listen to him vent, I hold him as he cries, and in the happier moments, I keep his mind distracted with video games and movies.

He's much more honest here.

As the death of his father approaches, I feel the air tighten around him with his tension. Right before it's about to burst, I find myself back in his room. The both of us sit on the edge of his bed. I can't focus on him, but I know he's there, and avoiding my face.

He says it so quickly, I almost miss it. "Raiden, I'm bisexual."

I know this already, but dream me doesn't. "Wait, really? That's awesome!"

The tension in the air lightens, allowing us easier breath and movement.

"Yeah," he smiles, face flushed. "I wanted to tell you before anyone else. I want to tell my dad before he goes, but what if he's not okay with it? I don't want my last memories with him to be bad."

"They love you, Adam. And you don't want to wonder 'what if' for the rest of your life."

I don't see him ask. I don't see their reactions.

He had six to twelve months left to live from his diagnosis. In reality, he lived for nine more months, but somehow, in this dream world, he makes it ten. I can't figure why.

The next thing I can register is his hand in mine. Then our black formal clothes. We're standing together in front of a coffin, already lowered into the ground. Someone needs us to leave so they can finish the burial and we can move on to the second part of the memorial service.

"Adam... You ready?"

He doesn't acknowledge my words. His eyes are caught on the coffin lid, littered with bright flowers. I squeeze his hand tight, and his body responds with a single tear down his cheek and full-body shaking and he suppresses a sob.

"Oh, Adam–" I let go of his hand to wrap my arms around him. He immediately throws all his weight onto me as he throws his arms over my shoulders and buries his face in my neck.

I can barely hold him up, let alone lead him back to the cars, but we somehow manage to get back to his home without him leaving my arms.

Time has been moving faster and faster here. I don't know how long this'll last and when I'll wake up, but we're getting closer and closer to our real ages.

This one's at least a couple years later. I can tell because of the lack of gloom. I find the both of us, yet again, in his room and on his bed with controllers in our hands.

Again, I am winning. At least until I'm slammed on my side by one of Adam's pillows. By the time I've spotted my remote on the floor and figured out what happened, Adam is back in the lead.

"Hey!" I throw the pillow right back at him, hard, to make sure his controller gets knocked away too.

"Oh, it's on now!" He snatches one of my legs and yanks it towards him enough to knock me onto my back. The next few minutes are a battle, each of us with an unspoken understanding that whoever wins this little wrestling match is the overall winner.

I only managed to get the upper hand once, and the rest I blame on not being able to move as freely as if I were awake. I stop struggling once he has both my shoulders pinned down and I can't manage to lift them again.

Winner decided, we stay there to catch our breaths and get over our laughing fits. When everything winds down, we're left in a giddy, comfortable silence. He looks down at me fondly, and after a few seconds he starts to lean in. I rush up to meet him halfway and wrap my arms around his neck once he lets up on my shoulders.

He eagerly comes in when I tug him closer. We're both desperate again, as if we're still fighting, but this is so much better. I can feel his smile against my lips and I just can't get enough.

We seem to be there like that forever until I hear a knock at the door. We try and break apart, but the door's already open.

"Boys, I–" Mrs. McAllister hovers in the doorway, but turns away when she spots us. It takes her a moment, but she recovers. "I made meatloaf for dinner tonight. It should be done in fifteen minutes." And just like that, she's gone.

And I'm passed on to a couple days later.

"Ready to tell them?" He rubs his thumb over my palm. We have our parents waiting in the next room. It took us a couple days just to figure out what we are, but now that we do...

"Yeah... You?"

"Yeah."

I move to leave the room, but he doesn't follow.

"Adam?"

"Do you... Do you think he would've approved of us? My dad, I mean."

I take his face into my hands and lean my forehead against his. "Your dad loved you so much. As long as you're happy, I know he'd approve. You are happy, right?"

He leans in to give me a soft kiss. "I'm so happy."

His skin on mine gets hotter and hotter until I can barely stand it. I'm sweating. Everywhere. A pain shoots up my right arm as my recognition of him starts to ebb and fade away.

I find the strength to open my eyes.

Only once they're open and I register that I'm really here, that I'm really awake, I still feel him around me. I notice his arm draped over my chest and it starts to hit me.

That wasn't him. That's not what he's like. That's not how we are.

It felt so natural when I was asleep.

Waking feels like giving up what we could have been.