The test had been right, the doctors confirmed it. She's already four months now, I can't believe it. But at the same time, I can. She's already getting to be almost as big as a house! The doctors said that it's going to be twins, identical twins. Just like me and you, Angel.

I can't imagine what it's going to be like, having little ones around already. It seems like the three of us just stopped growing up as it is -- we're only twenty-five, Blythe's only twenty-four.

While you may have your steady job as a school teacher and Blythe with her nurse job, I'm only a tattoo artist; how am I suppose to help you guys? I know that you're always saying how we 'get by', but with two more mouths to feed, will "get by" really be enough?

I'm nervous, Angel, real nervous. What will our lives be like? The three of us, we see how others get when they have kids. They all get lazy and jaded, and they can't bother to hang around friends anymore. Will we be like that?

I can't give you children like she can. Will never tell you that unsuspected news of how I'm going to be bringing another life into the world. I can't whisper those giddy words, or tell you how it moved, or anything. I could never tell you anything like she could.

Will you stop loving me when they're born? Will you love her more because she gave you them? Will you visit her more often?

Forget everything we've shared, everything we've been through?

For Christ sakes, Angel, there was only us until she came! Would you forget about me? About us? Because she gave you these little boys?!

I'll never forgive you if you do, you know.

Days turn into months, and soon the babies are in our world.

The small Lionel Inverse and the even smaller Azrael Inverse are born, the first one on very last minutes of August 31, the other to the very first of September 1st.

After the first few weeks, I notice some strange things about everything.

Neither of them scream. At all, really. They do this whine sort of thing, and they get all fussy, but they don't scream their little lungs raw at all like most babies do. Well, they don't unless you take one too far from the other. They're a lot like the two of us that way, aren't they Ange?

Another thing is, is that they have the brightest blue eyes I've ever seen and they absolutely love to make faces. Blythe likes making faces back at them, and I do too. You don't make faces back to them, though. You're "too cool" for that, you just laugh to yourself and they fuss because of that. The you panic and wonder what you did wrong, while me and Blythe just sit there and laugh at you.

That's another thing I noticed: it's as if nothing between the three of us, aside from there being babies, has changed.

Blythe is still the bubbly and sometimes downright stupid goof-off who is constantly inviting her friends over (with promises of tea to drink and babies to coo over of course). You still are calm and collective, while at the same time have your usual moments when you have little spaz-outs.

Not to mention that you still treat her with the same near-plutonic affection, while your attention to me is just as passionate as ever.

Everything is... the same. I'm glad, I guess I was jealous and angry over absolutely nothing.

I guess I owe you an apology for all those months when I would give you the cold shoulder, thinking that I was preparing myself for what I had thought would be inevitable.

God, I love being here. Here with the man I love both body and soul. Here with the woman who always understands in her own way. Here with the little boys who only help brighten the waking hours.

Just...here.