[ Ginger, who already misses Mika when their eyes don’t meet - who looks at him like spring only exists because of the sound of his laugh - ]

We’ll have to decide a time -

[ He’s excited for that. They could - ah? Ah… Aaaah… ]

Mikaaa… [ The troublesome one Rum had called him, needy and clingy like the vines of Mika’s magic… This is probably what he meant by that: Ginger’s ridiculous possessiveness. His goes pink and his lip juts out a little. They were having a moment, hey… ] … Of course…

I’m- happy he cares about you. [ And from what Ginger could tell when Mika had been delirious with moon-radiation: ] I’m… happy… you care about him, too.

[ And he means that. But. But - a silent moment of restless handholding, as he struggles to put his jealousy into words - ]

But… Mika, you’re my - [ What, family? Boyfriend? Lover? They don’t yet have a word for what they are. ] … You’re mine.

And you’re so pretty. And kind. And wonderful. What if - what if he wants to… kiss… you? What if… he gets to see your morning bedhead?

[ He hates the idea of it, thanks!! ]