"I like your warmth, stupid Magna." Luck mumbles sleepily. "If it bothers you, you can shove me off anytime..." It comes as easy as breathing. Luck's body pressed against his like this, their limbs tangled with each other's, and his rough, calloused hand holding a smaller, slender one. It's just like how things always are between them. It's just like Luck barreling into his room, shocking him out of his slumber. It's just like Luck toying with an empty pudding container, then running away from incoming fireballs. It's just like Luck running without looking back, with full trust in him being able to keep up. Magna should've known, really. It all comes naturally, like two halves of one whole. It all comes effortlessly, like mana to a mage and like static sparks to flickering embers. It all comes as easy as breathing, the way his heart beats steadily for this boy in his arms that took his hand so earnestly and hasn't let go ever since. Magna is hopelessly in love with his best friend, but he'll never tell him that. Or: The five times Magna hides something from Luck and the one time he doesn't.