Lalli opened his eyes. The weight holding them down had vanished. The hollowness in his chest, the empty space in his head, all gone. He was alert, alive, awake. He disentangled himself from the blankets, taking a deep breath of air that felt so fresh it almost sparkled.
He went to find Tuuri to tell her the good news. She was hunched over an old book, deep in concentration. Lalli stood quietly, waiting for her to notice him.
"Oh, hey, Lalli," she said, still focused on the book in front of her. "Listen, can you stop breathing down my neck for a minute? I need to finish translating this."
Lalli barely moved. Tuuri didn't appreciate how great the day had just become. He had returned, out of exhausted darkness. He was alive, no longer fading, or withering as his eyes sealed themselves shut and his mind deteriorated into dust. But Tuuri wouldn't look up, so he slipped like a shadow into the next room.
The next room was different. He felt someone looking at him.
Lalli glanced up, straight into Emil's astonished gaze. He saw the Swede's face become luminous, as a smile spread like a sunrise across it.
But Lalli wasn't concerned about Emil's face. There was a problem, and it was his friend's messy hair. Lalli knew Emil couldn't be properly happy without perfect hair.
At that moment, Emil couldn't care less about his hair. Nevertheless, the smile on his face shone as Lalli smoothed his hair back down, making sure each golden strand was in its proper place.
Lalli stepped back in front of him, and Emil thought he saw his friend smile. It was a small smile, but it lit his face. Like magic. Not that he believed in magic, or anything weird like that.
He might not believe in magic, but he believed in his friend, and he was glad Lalli had finally awoken.