[He doesn't resist, the hair clasp finally falling from his fingers onto the floor with a clatter as he's pushed back onto his own bed, looking up at his brother in numb horror. Ariel's so small. Tristan himself might have a year or two of growth left but most of it is done, he's filled out, he's a young man, well built and handsome. But his brother? Ariel still looks tiny and delicate, short. He's got so many more growth spurts to go through, he looks frail. Tristan's not exceptionally strong but he's not weak at all, and he could easily carry or hurt Ariel.]

[It's so surreal.]

[It's easier to think of that than the hours, the nights spent in this room on this bed with June in his arms. The way she laughed. The way she smelled. The noises she made right in his ear when he did something right. The softness of her skin.]