He never got out of bed before noon.

Some called his excuse for extra beauty sleep vain; most thought of him as simply lazy. It didn’t matter. Zoisite had his reasons for staying in bed, and they were clear to him every morning when he woke up as soon as the sun broke over the horizon.

He instinctively woke up at this time every day, and this day was no different. A soldier’s life had trained him to wake up early. His long lashes fluttered open to let his bright green eyes meet the sunlight with regret. The young man could just roll over like the countless days before, hiding in the shadow of his long strawberry blonde locks until the day had aged past morning. But sometimes, on certain days, he’d actually rise and confront the thing he loathed.

On this particular day, he felt compelled to do this. Perhaps it was because it had just rained. Perhaps it was because the air was starting to turn colder. Or maybe it was just because he had gone so long without letting himself be honest with himself about it.

Zoisite stepped outside carefully. He wasn’t afraid, but he had his trepidations.

The sunlight washed over him as he embraced the dawn. The grass was slightly wet and a bit cold under his bare feet. The entire world was bright and still at the same time, which is what he hated the most. Even the air barely stirred. The pale yellow light warmed his chest, but his back felt eerily cool in shadow. Yet it was cold enough that his tears still felt warm as they fell down his pink cheeks.

It was the way the world was still cold from a dark night, but the powerful sunlight made one still feel warm almost immediately. It was the way that everything was still covered in dew, wet and glistening and covered in a transparent mist. It was the quiet that was barely disturbed, but still quite alive in the new light. It was the eternal vigor encapsulated inside of the world being exposed by a brand new day.

It was beautifully hopeful; it was depressingly truthful.

It all reminded him of her. The eerie way that the world was alive but quiet mimicked her all too pristinely, especially when she was lost in thought. Bright and silent, untouched and untouchable. Even the way he felt warm and cold simultaneously was a vivid reminder of she was always able to warm him, but still send shivers down his spine. Even the dew at his feet recalled how much she loved the water, and the misty fog echoed her powers. The way that nothing was hidden recalled how she searched for information until it was all uncovered. The way everything was fact, and true, and honest, was just like the way she spoke. Even the faint chirping of the birds was like her sweet laughter.

He missed her.

He didn’t mind sunsets. They were fiery and imposing, crying out for dramatic attention as they day itself died. He had seen enough of them to be unmoved, but he understood why Jadeite didn’t like them. Zoisite stood silently as the day was anew before him, facing his ethereal reminder of her. He was sure he was the only one who tortured himself like this.

Enough. Just a few long moments were enough to make him begin to question what kept them apart, and this was his limit. No more.

He pulled himself from the image to return to his bed, but found himself facing the darkened horizon. There hung the moon. It was pale, almost gone, but glowing. This, too, reminded him of her pale skin framed by her dark blue hair. He wondered if she was looking at him from up there.

Zoisite scoffed. Enough of this foolishness. He shut off these feelings once more, and returned to his chamber. He had endured enough to remind him why he stayed in bed until noon.