To tell you the truth

The house welcomed them back - its warm, familiar quiet wrapping around them like a long, steadying hug. To Mele, it felt like safety. To Fali, it felt like the edge of a knife.

He hid it well, but inside, fear coiled tight. Not just for Mele’s safety and privacy, but for the thought that someone might talk - that a rumor, a single careless mention of where they’d been, could send people knocking at their door. Yet, as he glanced at her, he knew whatever he was feeling, she was feeling tenfold - and somehow, she was still holding it together.

It slipped through at times, little cracks in her voice or a moment’s silence too long, but mostly, she’d sealed herself away. By nightfall, it was clear nothing more was coming; she’d buried it all behind that quiet strength of hers.

It wasn’t until later - the two of them sitting on the couch after a movie, dinner long gone - that she finally let a hint of it show. Leaning against his side, her head on his shoulder, she whispered,

“I’m tired.”

He nodded and reached for the remote as the credits rolled.

“Alright. Ready for bed?”

She gave a faint nod, shifting just enough for him to stand. Instead of fetching her wheelchair for the short trip to her room, he simply slipped his arms beneath her and lifted her up. She clung to his neck without protest, her warmth pressed close as he carried her the short distance.

Her room was softly lit by the bedside lamp. He set her gently down on the bed, noticing her nightgown draped over the edge, then smiled.

“Well… goodnight. Sorry about today.”

She smiled faintly.
“You know, even if it could’ve gone better… I wouldn’t call it a bad day.”

He raised an eyebrow. “No?”

She tilted her head, her expression softening.
“Because I got to spend it with you.”

That made him smile - a quiet, honest one - as he turned to go.
“I love you too. Goodnight.”

“Wait.”

He paused at the door, hand resting on the frame.
“What is it?”

The lamplight caught her expression - a mix of worry and longing.
“You promised… this morning…”

Then it hit him. She’d asked him to share her bed tonight. He hadn’t said yes outright, but he had said he’d do anything she wanted. His pulse quickened.

“Y-you were serious…?”

She nodded.
“Yeah… but let me get changed first.”

He swallowed, nodded back, and stepped out, closing the door softly behind him. For a moment he just stood there, his thoughts spinning too fast to settle. Then he stumbled into his own room to grab the thin shirt and shorts he slept in, pausing halfway through to straighten a pile of clothes for no reason at all.

Get it together, he told himself. It’s just something small. A comfort thing. Not… something else.

When he returned, he waited outside her door until her voice came, quiet and gentle.

“Fali?”

He froze for half a second before taking a deep breath and opening the door.

The lamp still glowed softly. Mele sat propped against the headboard, her flowing nightgown hugging her figure, her legs hidden beneath the blanket. She smiled and patted the space beside her.

His throat went dry. Still, he crossed the room and sat down where she indicated. She reached over to switch off the lamp, leaving only the faint silver of moonlight tracing her features. Her eyes glimmered in the dimness - calm, but unsure.

“Come on,” she whispered. “Lie down.”

He obeyed, slipping beneath the blanket and rolling to face her. Her smile - small, tired, and impossibly warm - could have melted the coldest heart.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

He nodded, unable to find words. His thoughts were a blur of emotion and restraint. What he didn’t know was that Mele felt the same - her own heart racing, unsure how she’d found the courage to follow through with this wish.

But now, he was here. Close enough that one shift of her body could bridge the small space between them. The bed wasn’t meant for two, yet somehow, they both fit.

Her voice trembled when she spoke again.

“Fali… I… I’m scared.”

She could just make out the widening of his eyes in the dim light.

“Scared?”

She nodded, her hair twisting against the pillow.
“Yeah. I’m scared.”

“Scared of what? Of being attacked again?”

“That, and of being humiliated. I’m… I’m a cripple now. I can’t perform on stage like this. I can’t be the Reaper’s Songstress… a goddess amongst mortals… in a wheelchair.”

He frowned, concern etched on his face.
“Isn’t that what you wanted? To leave that world?”

She shrugged, a weak motion of her shoulders.
“I thought it might be. Now I’m… not sure.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she hastily brushed them away.
“Oh, I’m crying again. This isn’t what I wanted.”

She sniffed, holding back the sobs as he spoke softly, with utter sincerity.
“You can cry. I won’t judge you.”

A sob threatened to escape, but she forced it down.
“I know… but I don’t want to be weak and emotional all the time. I want to be able to stand up for myself. But… I can’t stand up at all.”

Tears spread across the pillow, dampening the fabric beneath her. Soon it would feel cold against her skin.
“I’m sorry… it must seem like I change my mind every few hours…”

Fali paused for a second, choosing his words carefully.
“So… you still want to perform for people, then? But you don’t want to be seen… or be at risk?”

She nodded, sniffing heavily. He instinctively reached forward, brushing a tear from her cheek with the curl of his finger.

“Didn’t you say the reason you took a sabbatical was to make your own music?”

She nodded again, quiet now, listening.

“Then why not turn to recordings, rather than playing live?”

Her sobs stopped instantly, as though a switch had been flipped. Sadness gave way to anger - at herself. She balled her fists under the blankets, frustration vibrating through her small frame.

“I’m stupid! I’m stupid! The answer was right there the whole time! I…”

A finger pressed gently against her lips, silencing her torrent of words. Fali smiled softly.
“I told you, you’re not stupid. You’re incredible, Mele. Look at you - you realized there was a way, made an internal commitment without even knowing it, and now you’re determined to follow through.”

Her thoughts slowed, quieting in the truth of his words. Perfect, unwavering truth. She sniffed, voice soft and hesitant.
“I’m… sorry… you’re right…”

He stroked her cheek gently again, the faint ridges of dried tears beneath his fingers a reminder of her vulnerability.
“It’s alright. You’re just tired.”

She held his hand to her face, feeling the warmth seep through, a few stray tears rolling over her knuckles, but he didn’t mind.

“Ready to get some sleep?”

She nodded once more, still unable to speak. He withdrew his hand, offering a final smile.
“Goodnight. We can talk more seriously tomorrow, okay?”

She nodded again. Silence settled over the room, broken only by the distant call of a farm animal. Fali rolled onto his side, facing away from her, forcing himself not to see her so close - he wouldn’t sleep otherwise.

For a moment, there was nothing, only stillness. Then he felt it: a soft shift, a shuffling. An arm slipped under his body, another over, wrapping beneath his armpits and clinging to his chest. Her grip was gentle but insistent, as if she were using him as an anchor to pull herself closer. He felt her breath warm against his neck, the faint pressure of her body resting against his back. His breath hitched - he knew exactly what that pressure was.

Her hips pressed lightly against his lower back. The blanket shifted slightly as she drew her legs along with a small, careful movement, pulling herself snugly against him. She didn’t speak. He couldn’t move without disturbing her, yet he felt her warmth through the thin layers of clothing.

He expected her to pull away after a while, but instead her breathing slowed, evened out, and he knew she had fallen asleep. Her grip didn’t loosen, and he lay there quietly, chest rising and falling in rhythm with hers.

He exhaled softly. It was going to be a long night, but he wouldn’t trade a single second of it for anything.