It was the first nice day in months, and Justin was on Hannah's porch early, knocking on the door until a bleary-eyed Deborah answered.

"What?"

"It's almost eleven and Hannah needs to come out and play,"� Justin said firmly, his eyes inadvertently taking in Deborah's tank top and pj pants. "Look! The last of the snow's melted. Go get her. Please."

"Yessir." Deborah saluted crisply and turned on her bare heel towards the stairs and the room she shared with her sister.

"Your boy's here," Deborah announced as she shuffled back into their room. Hannah was sitting up in bed, yawning and stretching. Justin's knocking had roused her too; she was just slower to action than her sister. "He wants you to go play."

"He's not 'my boy', you know"� she protested, swinging her legs over the edge of her bed and cracking her toes on the carpet. "He's my best friend. He's the greatest thing I have in my life. I love him in that don't-want-to-have-your-babies-but-you-can-be-the-godfather way. He's not 'my boy.'"

"You keep saying that. I don't think you mean it, really. You don't want him to be just the godfather, and you know it."

"Mrf," Hannah replied through the fabric of the tshirt she was pulling over her head. "Maybe not. But he'd be content as the godfather. So that's where he'll stay. Where are my shoes"

"You should talk to him about that," Deborah said, taking a minute to remember the way he'd looked at her a few minutes ago - the way he always looked at her. "I mean, you know he cares about you. You should figure out how much before you pass judgment on your children. They're under the dresser."

"That'd be the most awkward talk ever, and you know it. We talk about sports. And constellations. And watermelon. And cartoons. We don't talk about each other. About us. Ah, here they are."� She pulled on her sandals and stuffed her wallet into her pocket. "Did he say where we're going?"

"I didn't ask; he just told me to send you outside. I'm going back to bed."

Hannah bounced down the stairs and grinned at Justin, who was sitting crosslegged on the couch, reading the newspaper he'd brought up from the base of the driveway. "G'morning, beautiful," he said, not looking up.

"Deborah went back to bed,"� she said, trying to keep the smile out of the corners of her lips and the blush out of her cheeks. She busied herself by rummaging in a drawer for her housekey. "Where're we going?"

"Dunno," Justin said, folding the newspaper carefully and laying it on the table. He ran a hand through his curly hair and grinned at Hannah, then looked away quickly. "Park?"

"Park's awesome. Can we get a muffin or something along the way?"

"Nope, no food. Ever. C'mon." He grinned at her, a smile that she'd always thought of as 'impish,' and opened the door. He gestured magnanimously for her to precede him, and she traipsed across the threshold, grinning like an idiot. Justin pulled the door firmly shut behind him and jumped over the stairs and landed on the concrete driveway, humming a slightly off-key tune.

"What'cha singin'?"

"Some song from The Phantom of the Opera. My dad made me see it last night and there's this one song that's been in my head since they sang it. It's the duet between the girl and Fabio or whatever the name was - the duke guy. In the snow. Pretty song."

Hannah shrugged; she didn't know much about movies or musicals, but the melody was pretty and Justin's imperfect rendition was a lovely compliment to the warm day and soft breeze through the trees. The walk to the park was brief and spent in comfortable silence between the two friends. Hannah walked closest to the street, her left hand occasionally swinging close to Justin's, brushing the back of it, flinching away, embarrassed. They stopped by a coffee shop and she got her muffin - cranberry - which gave her hands something to do. She threw the wrapper away in the trashcan at the entrance to the park and the two made their way down to the massive lake in the middle of the grounds. Most of the benches were already taken up by mothers and children, young couples visibly in love, or solitary figures, reading or listening to music. They passed the basketball courts and the playground where they'd once played on the see-saw for hours and just talked.

The first empty bench they came to was just above the dam, between the playground and a rather inconspicuous gazebo, which was occupied by a book discussion group. Hannah and Justin settled in on the bench, Hannah with her legs crossed and Justin sitting Indian-style, leaning slightly forward to look at the ducks coming out of the lake towards them. Hannah considered her last bite of muffin and then tossed it gently at them. The ducks clambered over each other to get to the food, making a racket that alerted the nearby readers and lovers. Justin and Hannah laughed.

Once the noise had subsided, Hannah pulled her feet up under her and looked over at her friend. "How have you been?"

Justin stared out over the lake, his blue eyes squinting like he was looking to see something on the far shore. His dark hair twisted in the wind, and his thin lips twitched. "I've been okay."

"I know that's not true,"� Hannah replied. "I mean, 'okay' for you and 'okay' for me mean different things. What has your life been like? We haven't talked in a long time. You haven't been in school, you know."

"I know. And it's kinda true. I'm okay. Or I will be okay. It's just been a long time since I felt settled, comfortable, myself, you know? The move was tough; going through all of the stuff in my room reminded me of...you know, everything."

Hannah took a deep breath and nodded.

"It hasn't been the same. We all knew it wouldn't be. Our old house was too empty. The new one is too small. We're talking about getting a puppy. It's kind of fucked up, I guess, when you think about it."

"But,"� Hannah started to say, and then stopped herself. What kind of substitute was a puppy? Justin's mother had died less than two months ago. And the best his father could do was a puppy?

But the man had just lost the woman he'd married, the woman he'd loved. The mother of his only son. Justin's dad had never been the most logical thinker. Maybe a pet made the most sense. Maybe it was the best idea.

"But what?" he asked, tilting his head to look at Hannah in profile.

"Nothing," she said, softly.

"Right." Justin turned back to look at the lake. He sighed, his eyes darting around the scene, over the people and the lake and the children and the ducks. Then, abruptly, he unfolded his legs and stood up. He reached down and grabbed Hannah's hand before she could process that he'd even moved and dragged her to her feet as well. "C'mon, let's walk," he said.

Hannah was too surprised by his sudden rise and even more surprised by his hand in hers that she jumped to her feet and to his side. He didn't lessen his grip on her fingers and she didn't try to get out of it; she followed him, the lake on her left, towards the bridge and the rest of the park. They crossed it, still hand in hand, no sound by the wind across the water and the sound of their shoes on the wooden planks of the bridge. Then didn't look at each other; she kept her eyes on the ground and his eyes were straight ahead, clear and unseeing.

They'd followed the path three-quarters of the way around the lake in complete silence before Justin's grip loosened slightly on Hannah's hand. Was he letting go or just relaxing? She pulled her hand away and shoved it into her pocket, brushing up against his shoulder with each step with her right foot.

"I'm sorry,"� he said suddenly, stopping as abruptly as he'd started. He spun around and faced her, placed his hands on her arms and looked into her eyes for the first time that day. "I'm..." he dropped his hands and shrugged. "Sorry. I'm sorry, Hannah. I mean, you didn't ask about the puppy, really, just how I was, and the puppy has nothing to do with that, but I just didn't know who else would think it's...it's kinda funny, you know? Dad and I are getting a dog 'cuz mom died. It's not even ironic, like if she hated dogs and we always secretly wanted one, y'know? Just that...shit, Hannah, this isn't real. It can't be real."� The words came out in a rush. He shrugged again and smiled lopsidedly. "Sorry, I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Justin. I asked how you were. I wanted to know. I want you to be okay. I want to help you."

He looked at her, the smile spreading a little. "Thank you, Hannah. I just don't really want to talk about this right now. I want you...I want you to be in my life. It's great that you are. You're my best friend, and it's a beautiful day, and let's enjoy the weather, ok?"

Hannah nodded and rubbed her arms where his hands had held her seconds before. What else was happening in his head? She wanted him to touch her again, to take her hand again, even in the middle of his grief, his confusion. She looked at him and realized suddenly that she did love him, everything about him, his whims and his eyes and the way he was looking at a tree over there, his voice and his jokes and his smile and his occasional touches or compliments...she loved him. She loved him more than she'd love the godfather of her children. She loved him and it hurt her to think about and suddenly the wind picked up again, caught her hair, covered her eyes. She brushed it away and looked to the ground, wondering what to say now, now that she had this idea and this word in her head and didn't know how to get it out. The wind ruffled a single leftover dandelion puff, dislodging a few of its seeds to the wind. Hannah made a small sound and knelt beside it. She snapped it off at its base and held it up to Justin, his hair framed by the sun behind him and his eyes asking a question that she wasn't ready to answer.

"Look! The kids must've missed this one. Here," she said, rising and handing him the slender stalk beneath the fluffy flower. "Blow the seeds off. Make a wish."

Justin considered the flower for a moment, his eyes thoughtful. He bit his lower lip and raised his eyes to hers. She hadn't realized she'd been staring at him intently until their eyes locked. "Well?"

He blinked and looked away. "I don't have any wishes right now, Hannah. I'm just out."� Justin looked at the flower for another second, then extended it to her. "You do it. You've got wishes. Use one."

She took it, and considered. Her mind swirled, she avoided his eyes, and then she shut her own eyes tight, took the stem in both hands, tilted her head back, and blew the seeds straight up, into the air, where they were picked up by the breeze and carried into the sky.

"What'd you wish for?"� Justin asked and took the empty stalk from her hands, twirling it idly in his fingers.

Hannah was a little affronted. "I can't tell you," she said. Justin wished as frequently as she did - on stars or pennies or red lights. He knew the rules.

"Why not? C'mon, Hannah. We're not kids anymore. Wishes don't come true. They're just games."

She looked at him sharply, wondering where she'd been when he stopped playing her games. Maybe it had been a while. Maybe she just hadn't noticed. Maybe wishes don't come true. She was suddenly glad she hadn't wished for him to love her.

"I can't tell you, Justin, you know that. It won't come true."

"Right, okay." He reached for her, smiling. She wanted to pull away; instead she took a step forward and looked up at the sky. "When did it get so dark?"

"Hmm?"� Justin's query was drowned out by the sound of the wind tearing towards them off of the lake, moving the trees in music and carrying the dandelion seeds further and further away. "Aw, shit." He grabbed her hand again, and they ran. They got to the gates to the park and Hannah started to turn, but Justin pulled her to his side. "No, my house is closer. C'mon, we'll wait it out there."

Justin's house was a few blocks away; they jogged up the road and sprinted the last few feet to the house. He spun her towards him at the door and grinned. "You're not getting in 'till you tell me what you wished for."

"Oh, you asshole. Just open the door, will you?"�

"Why? It's not like we can get any wetter out here - you might as well tell me." But he laughed as he said it and put the key in the lock. They pushed his sliding glass doors open and tumbled into his tiled kitchen, still laughing and dripping wet. He slid his hand out of hers and pushed a damp piece of hair out of her eyes. "I'll go grab some dry clothes, k?"

He thundered up the stairs and she wrung out her hair in the sink as he moved around upstairs. She dried her arms and face off with paper towels and he came down a moment later, tshirt, pj pants, and towel in hand. He tossed them at her and grinned. She smiled back, her breath finally coming back to her, and headed into the bathroom to dry off and change.

"Thanks, Jus," she said, coming out a minute or so later. The pants were too long, and the shirt had a hole in the sleeve, but they smelled like his clean laundry and like him and they made her smile. She tossed her damp clothes on the towel he'd spread by the door and poked her nose into the family room. Justin was lying on the couch, head pillowed on his hands, the remote on his chest moving in and out with his breathing.

"Welcome," he said, his eyes focused on the TV.

"You are not watching a monster-truck rally," she said firmly, reaching for the remote. Justin just as quickly snatched it back and waggled at her.

"Why not? It's big shit running over smaller shit. It's fun. What'd you wish for?"

"Give it a rest. And move your ass over; I'm not sitting on the floor."

Justin picked up his head and shifted his weight. Hannah assumed he was going to sit up and plunked down at the edge of the couch. As soon as she was settled, her friend leaned his head back and into her lap, eyes meeting hers briefly before he turned back to the trucks on tv. She squirmed; his hair was still wet and cold on her legs, but smiled broadly and laid one hand across his chest, half-grabbing for the remote.

"If I fall asleep and start snoring," Justin said after a few seconds, "just poke me. I haven't been sleeping at night, so I tend to drop off on the couch."

"You're getting my pants wet," she replied, playing with his wet curls slightly.

"They're my pants," he reminded her, and yawned. He closed his eyes a few minutes later, a smile on his lips and a steady rhythm in his breathing. He looked content - like the boy who still believed in wishes.

"Justin,"� she said quietly, pushing a damp piece of hair off of his forehead. He didn't stir; he was asleep. Hannah watched him breathing, her friend, her love, the person she cared for above anyone else. She traced his profile with one finger; he stirred slightly but didn't wake. Her fingers explored his skin, gently, half-hoping he'd wake up and find her looking down at him, fascinated by the lines of his face. He didn't wake, but the smile didn't fade, either.

"What did I wish for?" Hannah said quietly after a long time. "I wished for you, my love. I wished that you'll be happy. That you'll smile like you used to, that your demons will leave you alone, eventually. I wished that you'll find everything you need in someone, even if that someone isn't me. I wished that you'd know that I love you, and that I want you to love me too, but if you don't I want you to know what this feels like. I want you to be happy again. I wished that you'd sleep well and happily and maybe dream of me, but you don't have to. I wished...I wished for you. That's really all. And you said wishes don't come true."

"Hrm?" Justin said, his blue eyes opening and meeting hers. She jumped slightly.

"Nothing, Justin. Just talking to myself."� She laid her hand on the side of his face briefly, and as she went to pull it away he reached his own hand up to cover hers. Their eyes met again and they each smiled.

"Hey Hannah?" He didn't have to ask the question, but hearing her name sounded wonderful coming from his lips. "You know you don't have to tell me what you wished for. It'll come true. Sometimes they do."

"I know," she said, and he closed his eyes and drifted into sleep again.