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Somewhere on Brahma, a starving child feels bruises on his skin that are not his own.
Somewhere on Mars, a bruised child feels an ache in his stomach that is not his own.
Thirty years later, a private eye stands in front of a master thief to protect him, but the master thief still feels every titanium spike as though it is his own arm they have sunk into, and he knows what that means:
He's found his soulmate.
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“What do you reckon teenage you would say, if he could see you now?”
Nureyev tilts his head, considering. “Probably... ‘how did you let yourself get so old?’ Or perhaps, ‘what the devil happened to your face?’”
“Oh, shut up,” Juno says, but they’re both smiling.
“No, I... believe he would be quite happy, really,” Nureyev continues softly. “To know that he’s going to find someone… good. Someone he can trust and who’s as much a goddess as you, dear.”
Juno's expression somehow grows even more tender. “Fuck, Nureyev. How did you do it?”
“Do what?” Nureyev responds.
“Hang on to that bleeding heart of yours, even through everything.”
“How did you?”
“...Point taken.”
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