I dreamed I was back in the forest, being drawn in by the bright light hovering in the clearing. This time there were no shadows, save for the normal overcast of the tall trees. I stepped softly through the woods, bare feet sinking into deep moss.

The star was there, shining stronger than ever, and it warmed me down to my soul. When I finally stepped into that clearing everything was cast in gold, and I stood for a moment basking in that warmth. It felt safe here, felt welcoming, and so so right.

As I stepped closer to the star I reached out to touch its brilliance. I wanted to let it warm my fingertips, seep into my skin and bones, but my hand couldn't reach. When I looked down I found a single tendril of unnatural black wrapped tightly around my wrist. I tried to tug myself free, clawing at the shadow futilely before more of them appeared, wrapping around my torso and legs.

Panic surged in me as I felt myself get pulled away from the beautiful golden light. I reached out with my other hand, still free from the shadowy restraints, and called out. My words were silent, trapped in my throat and hushed by whatever madness haunted this valley.

My strength was waning, I could feel it in my limbs as the shadows stained them, in the ragged gasps that escaped my sore lungs, in the tears escaping my eyes and falling from my cheeks. Before me the light of my star was fading and I knew it wouldn't be much longer before the shadows overtook it and consumed its glow entirely.

I closed my eyes, desperately trying to avoid the sight of my star blinking out entirely.

A warm hand wrapped around my wrist, fighting the darkness to pull me closer. When I opened my eyes again Roman was there calling out for me, although no sound parsed the veil of my dream. Around him the light of the star bloomed, reaching its rays out to push back the darkness trying to consume me. I wanted to be in those rays, feel the warmth of my star completely, but even the golden glow before me was fighting to keep me away.

It hurt. It hurt so much, and when I blinked it all went away, replaced by a soft nest of blankets and pillows. Roman's face was still there, peering up at mine with concern, our hands glowing where they were joined, and in the glow cast from that light I could see I was floating a few feet in the air.

I panicked. I couldn't help myself. Whatever magic held me aloft snapped at the fear welling in my gut and I fell, landing partially on Roman. Embarrassed, I quickly pushed myself up on shaking arms, eyes wide and cheeks still damp from tears.

“Sorry!” I said, quietly.

Roman smiled as he watched me, “Max wasn't kidding about the floating. Or the glowing, actually.”

I let out a sigh, willing my stomach to relax, but my anxiety was still high, and my hand was still wrapped in his. When I raised my free hand to rub my temple Roman went pale.

“Shit.” He said, sitting up and taking that hand from me as well. When he dropped my other hand the feeling of loss was strong, but I ignored it in favor of casting my eyes over my fingertips. It looked as though I'd dipped them in ink and left them to dry, the black spreading nearly down to my palm. My other hand, now free to examine, had paper-white fingertips, in stark contrast. I didn't know what it meant, and from the look on Roman's face he didn't either.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, meeting my gaze again.

I shook my head. My hands felt no different than they did when I'd fallen asleep.

“Okay,” He said, “It's not morning yet, and you need more sleep, so we can stay here for a few more hours, but I think we need to go see your dragon about this. She might know what's going on.”

I frowned deeply and let my head droop a little, but my eyes were too tired to produce anymore tears.

“I know you've done a lot of interacting this week. You're not used to it at all anymore, are you?” he said, ducking his head to find my gaze again, “But we both know this most likely isn't something we should ignore.”

I laid back down, letting out a defeated sigh. Roman didn't say anything else though. Instead he covered me back up with blankets and laid down next to me.

He was right. I knew he was right, I just didn't want to deal with more questions needing answers, more conversations I needed to participate in. I wanted to ignore it like all of my other problems – push it to that deep dark part of my mind that was already so, so full. It didn't hurt, didn't seem to be killing me, so what did it matter?

And wasn't that a strange feeling. I hadn't really worried about death in years. Previously I wouldn't have cared if outside forces killed me, and I was constantly skirting the edge of suicidal ideation – hovering on the brink of acting on those thoughts. I never got much closer than jay-walking or staying out in the cold too long.

Now people cared about me and it felt like breaking a promise to think about death.

I curled up on my side, as I usually did at night, and found my forehead pressed against Roman's arm. His warmth wasn't overwhelming and it helped to quell some of the panic in my chest.

When I awoke, some hours later, Roman had moved only slightly to accommodate my body, now pressed closer to his. He was already awake but didn't seem to mind me snoring lightly against his chest. Rather he was very focused on Marshall, who seemed to agree with me that laying against Roman and seeping his warmth was incredibly comfortable.

He was petting the cat and I watched, mesmerized by the movement and too tired to fight it. I didn't want to sit up. I didn't want to ruin this perfect moment of safety, but I also didn't want Roman to catch me watching him and get uncomfortable by my presence. I sat up, pulling my knees towards me and wrapping my arms around them. Safe from the awkwardness of openly cuddling with my crush, I let me gaze cast over him again, watching as Marshall nuzzled against his palm.

This wasn't the sort of thing I would have ever expected a week ago. Hell, this setting had never appeared in my wildest of dreams, and my brain was having trouble processing it. If you'd told me even a couple of days ago that I'd be sitting in a tree-house with Roman Miranda after a good night of sleep nearly cuddling with him the whole time, I probably would've figured you'd lost your mind. That or there was going to be a really painful prank at the end of it.

I could've still been scared of that possibility but something in my gut said that Roman wouldn't hurt me.

“Are you feeling any better?” He asked. Today he wasn't making as much eye contact, and my heart thumped loudly in my chest before I realized he was doing it for me.

I considered his question, reminded of the events of a few hours before, where my dream of stars and shadows had taken on an element of danger I couldn't have predicted. Part of me regretted not talking to Tethyria when Max brought it up, and when I looked down at my arms that feeling only increased.

There was no way to hide the markings on my hands, even after pulling the sleeves of my ratty sweater down as far as I could. The fingers of my left hand were a deep, dark black. The fingers of my right were as white as snow. They hadn't changed in the few hours since we'd woken up the first time, but they hadn't receded either, still staining the tips of my fingers like a thin layer of vibrant paint. I couldn't help the small gasp that escaped my throat, could barely stop it from becoming a sob, and I hardly noticed as Roman sat up and took my hands to inspect them.

“That's probably not good.” I didn't know how to respond so I focused on not hyperventilating, “Hey, Julian, you gotta breathe for me, alright?”

He rubbed my back gently and I felt compelled to rest my head on his shoulder. He didn't seem to mind, continuing his gentle massage as I closed my eyes and tried to match my breathing to his.

Not long after I calmed down Roman convinced me to walk with him to Max's house. We needed to eat real food, he said, and get warmer than we could practically sleeping outside in late March. He also had to return the blankets and pillows. He'd gone over there to borrow some after he'd found me, and refused to let Max know where I was. That explained his sudden disappearance.

The walk was slow and quiet, our hands stuffed deep in our pockets as we trod through the mud and leaves of the forest floor. As we neared Max's house I reached out for Roman's arm and pulled him to a stop. I didn't want any more people knowing about my tree-house, especially not Max, but I wasn't sure how to say it without feeling rude. I flicked my eyes into the woods we'd come from, then back at Roman, opening mouth to let words come out and getting frustrated when they weren't there waiting.

Roman only smiled, “I won't tell him about the tree-house if you don't want me to.”

Had everyone in my life suddenly become psychic, or was I just really easy to read now? Either way I was caught somewhere between relief that he wouldn't tell, and confusion at whatever had happened in my life to bring to this moment where my hand, wrapped loosely around Roman's wrist only seconds before, was now gently encased back in his.

I let him lead me forward, half in a daze as we crossed through the open back gate and into Max's yard.