Over the past few months, little Pasha Khruschev had a lot of time to think.

Experiencing the “real world” in an entirely different light had been fun while it lasted...which wasn’t very long. After being cleared for discharge, he bid Audrey goodbye with about fifty hugs and let his parents whisk him away to their home, where they let him eat cake and marshmallows until he was nearly sick. He went to bed with a tummyache that he didn’t mind in the slightest, cuddled up next to Abel, and wished very, very hard that he wouldn’t dream.

He found out the next morning (after a happily dreamless sleep) that his father had taken a leave from work, and that he and Pasha’s mother expected him to take a short leave from school. His mother, a concerned frown tugging on the corners of her lips, put her small hand on his pale, freckled arm, and spoke to him about a possible future in homeschooling, her tone nearly pleading. His heart sank; he worried about his friends, wondered what would happen to his favorite clubs, hated the thought of going without Audrey, feared what might happen if he couldn’t meet with Tallulah or the Basterds.

“Just think about it,” she urged, voice cracking. It took every ounce of Pasha’s willpower to refrain from stomping back upstairs and crying into his kitty pillow. He ate his breakfast slowly, the sugary cereal fueling a different kind of tummyache as his parents explained how things would be.

“You can’t wander out like you have been anymore, Pasha. We had no idea where you were for hours before the hospital called! Do you know how much I worried?” his mother scolded. Though she tried to be as gentle as possible, the corners of his eyes were still damp with tears.

“No, mama,” he responded softly.

“You stay here with us. No late walks. No friend visits. We make sure you’re safe.” His father’s eyes were stern as he spoke, as if blaming the coma on his son. Pasha didn’t quite understand why he was taking this angle - if he could have chosen not to be involved in all of that, he would have! - but he continued to sit quietly, nodding every now and then, lip bit, feet kicking nervously back and forth. He wanted to spend time with his family, and was very happy that his father had taken time off of work to be around them, but...this was not quite how he’d wanted things to play out.

Day after uneventful day wore on, his only real interaction with his friends happening through monitored IM chats. Every now and then one of them was allowed over for a visit, but his spirits weren’t very high, and he worried that he wouldn’t make good company. He loved being happy, bubbly, bright Pasha, and it was feeling kind of hard to do that right now, between the horrible things he’d seen in his comatose slumber and his smothering parents. Though he wanted to see his friends badly, he rarely extended an invitation. He skipped out on patrols, refusing to risk it; not only did he have to fear retaliation from his parents, should they discover him missing one night, but he knew how scary it could be out there. He knew really well. And it might take a little while to get over that.

One night, after many months of parental-imposed house arrest, Pasha had his first dream since the coma.

There was candy. So, so much candy. Audrey smiled and laughed and played with him in the park where he used to stargaze. They talked about school, and about her new boyfriend, and made plans to make up for their birthdays that Pasha had to miss. Everything was bright and vivid and happy.

They held hands and danced in circles in the daisies until they were too tired to move, eventually plopping down into the field of petals. The grass became candy sugarstraws and Pasha gnawed on it absently, gossiping with his best friend about the latest events at Meadowview. He was still occupied with newly-forming candy flowers that he hadn’t realized that Audrey was sitting and staring off into the distance.

“Who’s that?” she asked him, pointing. Pasha sat up, half of a butterscotch buttercup dangling from the corner of his mouth. He looked like a very colorful little rabbit.

“Oh...! I don’t know.” No sooner than the words left his mouth, he thought about retracting his statement. Something felt very familiar about the older boy walking towards them. He was almost reverently quiet as he watched him draw nearer, gaze flickering from his long, dark hair, his impressive cloak, his sharp dress, his...kitty ears? He didn’t remember making the decision to do so, but his cautious hand was reaching up towards the “stranger” as he got within arm’s reach, fingertips brushing the stars along one cheek.

“Abel...?” he thought he might have asked, but the name might have come out more like an mmm. Arms wrapped around him in a display of adoration. A little kiss made his freckled cheekbone tingle. He thought this might be what love felt like. Maybe.

That, or he was turning into candy too.

When he awoke with an unfortunate abruptness, he first checked to make sure he hadn’t chewed on his pillow during his candy dream. No, thankfully. Looking over at Abel’s sleeping form, he smiled, reaching to scratch behind his ears. His guardian didn’t stir in his slumber, but Pasha pretended that he saw a hint of contentment in his expression. It was a strange dream, but not...necessarily a bad strange. It was kind of nice, though admitting that to anyone would prove pretty difficult.

“Maybe one day...science or magic powers or wishing stars could make you a person for always too,” he mused quietly, collecting his books and backpack on his way out.

He skipped breakfast and walked to school with a tightness in his chest and a lump in his throat that he couldn’t quite explain.