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Four months, one week, six and a half days.

It seemed like less time had passed since Andeon had pounded on Fallon's door and watched as the flames crawled from beneath it to greet him. It felt like yesterday that he had watched the orange glow from her window from the front lawn of Barren Pines and sobbed into the grass because he was a ******** failure hadn't saved her. Yet it seemed like forever since he had sprinkled confetti on her bed when she was stressed over exams and then helped her pick it up and organize it into small piles of specific shape and color as a distraction. It had been an eternity since she had made him french toast and then taken it away when he refused to use silverware because he wanted to put slabs of butter between the slices and eat it like a sandwich.

Four months, one week, six and a half days and Andeon was standing outside of her front door in a dress shirt and the nicest jeans he owned. They still had holes but he had patched them with pieces of Mackenzie's favorite underwear, and the blue and black satin stripes looked strangely in place against the dark denim. His hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck, his green eyes covered by a half-circle of rose colored glass, and for once in his life Andeon didn't look like he had just rolled out of bed with a massive hangover.

In one fist he held a bouquet of roses, two hours spent selecting them for precisely matching shade and size. The less time Fallon had to spend arranging them, the sooner she would be able to turn those angry eyes on him so he could apologize.

For four months, one week, and six and a half days of absolute silence.

“Sorry I haven't called, I took a really long nap,” he rehearsed as his knuckles rapped upon the door, “Snuzzles got fleas and I had to bathe him for four months. Super fleas. Alien fleas. Hulk fleas. s**t, he is a Hulk flea. I got my period and I had to read this really long book on dealing with the ups and downs of becoming a woman. I had to learn to shave my armpits. I went into a sex coma after your mom came into town by the way she has a nice a** and that French accent is super hot but she needs to shave it was like searching for a mouse hole in a thicket. I really wanted to read all of War and Peace. Who the ******** would believe that, God I should have worn a cup-”

The door opened, and Andeon reflexively threw the handful of paper birthday confetti he'd been holding in his other hand right into Fallon's face.

“Hi Fells. You look great. Nice boobs. Still gay? Yeah. You've got confetti in your hair I love you please don't kick me in the balls I brought you flowers. Hi Fells. Hi.”

Andeon stared as though slapped in the face, watching Fallon pick the confetti out and let it fall to the floor. She was not scrambling to pick it up or snapping commands for him to go fetch labels and small plastic jars. She was not screeching insults or throwing shoes at his head. He looked like Batman after bankruptcy, Superman after someone had shown him a basketball-sized chunk of Kryptonite, Green Lantern after his ring had been taken, Magneto in that incredibly sub-par X-men movie where he got shot with that stupid cure needle and lost all of his power even though it was totally gay and not at all the way it should have happened and who the ******** decided not to put Gambit in those movies anyways, Dr. Manhattan after- well, you get the point.

“That's cool,” he said, forcing a wide grin, “Mine is at the end of the month. I'd like a new X-box controller. Mackenzie broke mine. Well, I broke mine when I threw it at the TV, but in my defense Mackenzie beat me because she picked Ivy and that's some ******** bullshit, you know? I'd also like a cake. You make great cake. Can I come in? I'll come in. Hi Fells.”

Andeon was still rambling as he ducked under Fallon's arm and into the room without invitation. He paused, looking for a place to set the flowers. Finding none suitable, he shoved the stems down the front of his pants and stood there with a waistline bouquet. He waggled his brows and gave one extremely obnoxious wink. The plastic wrapping crinkled loudly.

“These are for you. I might be talking about the flowers.”

Andeon looked left. Andeon looked right. He leaned in with hands cupped to the sides of his mouth and whispered loudly, “I'm not talking about the flowers.”

Andeon had been in and out of the hospital like lightning, most of his wounds having been healed when Queen Serenity had returned his body to two pieces instead of three, and Chronos had subsequently returned it to one piece instead of two. There just wasn't much left for modern medicine once the ancient powers of Love and Flowery Girl Justice were through with you. Unlike many of the them, there had been no flurry of friends and family to whisk Andeon away for a few weeks of recovery. Only Mackenzie had sat at his bedside, and he at hers, their fingers laced together with their newfound need for one another. He winced visibly at Fallon's mention of his other half, but couldn't muster up and kind of anger. He deserved that. It was fair.

“That ain't fair, Felly,” her protested anyways as he sat down on the floor and pulled off each shoe with both hands. It revealed knee-high yellow socks with individual spaces for each of his toes. The tops of his feet were covered by a familiar sponge face and buck teeth. He sniffed a shoe once, made a face, and slipped the pair into the caddy. He immediately took a pair of her own shoes off and tossed them in opposite directions. One hit the far wall with a dull thud. “You know Mackie. If she had you by the tits you wouldn't be going anywhere. Come to think of it, I wouldn't mind seeing that. Our place is just across town. No? No. Okay.”

Sitting cross-legged on her floor, Andeon could only look up at her. He wiggled his toes in their individual pockets and picked a piece of lint out from between two of them. Between thumb and index finger he rolled it into a ball and leaned over to strategically place it on the tip of her foot, snatching his hand away as though certain she was about to kick him. It probably wasn't a terrible assumption to make.

“Truth of it is,” Andeon pushed himself up, “I've got an awful secret, Fells.”