I tilted my head, still holding his hands, still basking in the rarest kind of miracle: Malvor, silent by choice. Then I smirked. "Well," I said, tone dry but eyes glittering, "as a thank you for respecting my boundary…" He perked up instantly. "…I assume you've prepared some kind of utterly ridiculous outfit for me?"
Malvor beamed. Not smiled. Not smirked. Beamed. Like I'd just said the most romantic thing in the history of gods, mortals, and dramatic entrances. He didn't even speak. Just snapped. In an instant, I sparkled. My nightshirt vanished in a shimmer of champagne light, replaced by a floor-length gown in deep purple and gold, the fabric alive with constellations that moved. Tiny stars winked and danced across the hem. The sleeves draped like smoke. The neckline was bold enough to make a god bite his knuckles. There was a cape? Oh, the glorious cape. It matched his. Flowing. Regal. Enchanted to billow dramatically in a breeze that didn't exist. Malvor looked at me like he might cry. "Darling," he whispered, one hand pressed over his heart, "you look… divine."
I turned slowly toward the mirror. "Is this velvet and illusion fabric?"
"Only the best for my birthday-month battle goddess."
I arched a brow. "I suppose you have matching outfits for every day of October?"
He grinned, wicked and proud."There's a rotating wardrobe, themed by week. Tomorrow is capes and claws. Tuesday is rhinestone vengeance. And I'm still waiting on the delivery for dramatic brooding under storm clouds, but I have hopes."
I sighed. "You're lucky I love you."
"I know," he said, absolutely unashamed. "Now you match."
He offered me his arm, completely extra, completely perfect. I took it. Our capes billowed behind us as we stepped into the chaos, like royalty. Ridiculous, glittery, boundary-respecting royalty.
We came home laughing. Hair mussed. Clothes rumpled. A smear of gold leaf still clinging to my cheek like a badge of honor. His cape torn, again, and neither of us sure if it had been the upside-down lava slide or the duel with enchanted cupcakes that did it. Confetti stuck to our boots. We didn't care. I kicked the door shut behind us, still breathless from laughter. Malvor collapsed dramatically on the nearest lounge, one arm flung over his forehead like a fainting noble. "Today," he gasped, "was chaos perfection."
"We were chased by mechanical chickens," I reminded him. "And I'll never look at jam the same way again."
The laughter faded. The quiet that followed felt different. Waiting. I crossed to a corner of the room where the air shimmered faintly. Slipping my hand through it, I tugged at a seam in the realm itself. The fabric of space folded back. I pulled out a simple glass bottle. Unmarked. Unlabeled. I turned, walked back, and placed it in his hands. He blinked. Tilted it, as if waiting for glitter or song or divine fireworks. Nothing. Just glass.
"…A bottle?" His tone hovered between confusion and amusement.
"Open it."
He did. The cork popped, and the air shifted. Warm. Soft. Familiar. It smelled like me. Not perfume. Not magic. Just… me. That impossible mix of heat and skin and sunlight. His breath caught. I leaned over and closed it again. Then opened it. A laugh spilled into the room. My laugh. Light. Unplanned. One of the rare ones that cracked straight through my ribs before I could guard it. He looked at me, wide-eyed now. I took the bottle back. Closed it. Offered it again.
"This," I said softly, "is me. Little pieces."
My fingers traced the glass. "A new one each time you open it. My laugh. My heartbeat. A sigh. A breath. The way I say your name when I'm annoyed. When I'm scared. When I'm…" I trailed off.
He didn't speak. Didn't joke. Just stared at the bottle like it was made of starlight. "Some of them are dumb," I added quickly. "One is just me hiccupping after wine and trying to pretend I'm dignified." His fingers tightened around it. "And some are for when I'm not here," I whispered.
Silence. Then he pressed the bottle to his lips. Not to drink. Just to feel. When he spoke, his voice was reverent. "You bottled yourself."
"I thought you might get bored by one version," I tried to joke.
"I could never." His voice broke into a whisper.
He pulled me gently into his lap, still cradling the bottle with one hand, the other wrapping around my waist. He kissed my temple. Then my forehead. Then my jaw. He held me like I was the gift. Because I was.
He clutched the bottle to his chest, as if it might vanish if he didn't anchor it there. No smirk. No quip. Just silence. Reverent. Rare. I sat cross-legged beside him, my knee touching his, fingers brushing the glass. He passed it back without protest. "This isn't just for when I'm gone," I said. "It's for when I'm quiet. When I forget how to show it."
He looked at me. Really looked. Like he was memorizing every curl of my hair, every fleck of gold in my lashes, the glow of my cheekbone in candlelight. "You think I don't know?" he whispered. "That I haven't already felt every piece of you, even the ones you've never said out loud?"
My smile trembled. "I just wanted to give you something real."
He laced his fingers with mine. "You gave me you. There is nothing more real than that."
The bottle pulsed softly between us. I glanced down. Just for a moment, it shimmered gold. A heartbeat. My heartbeat. Echoed. Matched. He inhaled like the universe had just taken its first breath again. He set the bottle carefully on the nightstand. Not because he wanted distance, but because love isn't something you clutch like a weapon. It's something you trust to stay.
Then he stood, offered his hand. Not to dance. Not to perform. Just to lead me to bed. No sex. No spectacle. Just skin against skin. Heartbeat against heartbeat. When we lay down, he didn't reach for me like a man who wanted. He wrapped around me like a god who cherished. "Open it tomorrow," I murmured, cheek pressed to his chest. "Let it surprise you."
He kissed my hair. "No. I'll open it the next time I miss you. Even if you're right here."
In the hush of the Realm of Mischief, no illusions, no spotlights, I let myself believe it. That I didn't have to give more. Do more. Be more. I just had to be. Now, just being was more than enough.