He was breathing heavily when he woke, his mind still tangling fingers in silky silver hair that dissolved into standard-issue bedsheets. It took a few moments to collect himself, to realize that the boy who enchanted him was somewhere below, not in his bed. He looked down at his sheets in disgust before lying back; fortunately he was old enough now to have his own room in Brain Trust's facility.

     He'd been so close he could see the strange, cross-shaped flecks in one golden eye. Masaki wondered if he'd be able to look into those eyes when they met again.