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    Summary

    Nai wasn’t, strictly speaking, the one who had rescued him. It was Rem’s group, their mission, and the first anyone had seen of Legato was a bundle in her arms, sticklike and cellar-pale, a raw animal. He owed his life to her, even if he never managed to behave that way. 

    But it was Nai by his hospital bed, rubbing Vaseline carefully on his chapped lips, heaping the bed with real blankets, humming something under his breath until it felt like a song Legato had always known. Later Nai was the one who dipped his head into the sink, hands firm in his hair, and dyed it blue. Teal, nearly. Outrageous, extravagant. Loved, he thought, looking in the plastic mirror Nai held up to him, a smear of dye wet on his forehead. One corner of his mouth jabbing compulsively up, up, like a smile. 

    Series
    Language:
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