He goes, glad to be led along a little. Let Ren push him and prod him and mould him into shape. Right now, he'd be glad of it.

The attic is lit as it often is late at night, with the soft glow of a multitude of lights in the rafters, threaded through by Yusuke's glowing stars from the planetarium. Goro likes the restfulness of it, the multitude of shadows to hide in—although maybe he shouldn't, at this point in his life. The bed is, as he promised, turned down, with the cable of an electric blanket hanging out. It is February, after all.

Goro buries his face in Ren's neck. "I was wondering about him," he says, lips brushing skin. "What do you think he'll even do now?"