Courage

Amber and Mitsu spent the night at Leila’s camped out in her living room. There was nowhere else to rest their heads, and Amber was sensitive to Leila's fears for their well-being, so she offered to sleep a little closer to the front door just in case.

Amber also cast protective magic over the entire block for her peace of mind. It was a task that consumed three wands in total, but she didn’t seem too concerned about it.

At his insistence, Amber had taken the loveseat and the snuggest throw Leila had to offer while Mitsu hunkered down on the floor with nothing more than a chunky pillow and a frayed blanket to soothe the chill in the air.

Ren had, for the first time, been promoted from couch surfer to bed warmer, and the way he stumbled and sent Mitsu a near-panicked glance over his shoulder as Leila pulled him into her bedroom and slammed the door shut was telling.

In reality, the reason Ren was sleeping on the couch and not in Leila’s room might not have had anything to do with her at all. He’d known his best friend for much too long. He could say with great authority that his cool exterior and pointed words weren’t Ren just putting on airs.

Plenty of women who’d dated him misunderstood him—they thought he’d melt a little more, like a piece of peppermint candy on their tongue—but it never happened. Ren was unbreakable. Unbendable. Mitsu was his best friend, and he spent years trying to convince him to quit smoking because of his inflexibility.

From the bite-sized bits of information he’d gathered about his relationship with Leila, she didn’t seem to expect him to change—and maybe that was the reason why he was.

Ferris had done something to them. Leila and Amber had done something for them.

As Mitsu marveled at the way Amber's hair glimmered in the glowing fireplace, he decided that he didn’t want to meekly ignore all the changes he’d been through as a person. And so, he mustered the kindling of courage he’d lacked all this time.

“Amber?”

Her blanket rustled at a low murmur as she turned over to look at him. Her eyes were bright and alert despite the shadows underneath her lower lashes.

“What is it?” Amber asked. She didn’t sound irritated with him, but the fatigue was heavy in her voice.

He didn’t say anything, trying to gather his words like a bushel of berries. She seemed to fill in the blanks for herself. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable today,” she said.

She tucked her arm underneath her pillow as she switched to a more comfortable position. “I don’t want you to feel like you need to marry me for some noble cause.”

"Don't worry," he said, "I don't feel that way." It wasn’t as if he suspected she had orchestrated the entire conversation with Leila just to make him feel morally obligated to marry her.

He was, however, admittedly nervous. Mitsu curled his hands in the thin blanket covering his body like it was a shield. “You know,” he said slowly, his tongue thick in his mouth, “I never told you the reason why I said no.”

She looked almost confused. “A no is a no. It’s okay if you—“

“It’s not okay,” Mitsu interrupted. “At all.”

“Why not?”

“Because you think I don’t love you.”

Amber looked too stunned to speak, so Mitsu boldly continued, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. It’s just that before I came to this world, I had a wife, and she—she passed away.”

“You were married?"

"Yeah," Mitsu said, closing his eyes. “To the most wonderful woman on Earth." With his vision temporarily tucked away underneath his long lashes, he focused on nothing but the words coming from his mouth and the crackling fireplace.

“Ever since she died, I’ve been…obsessed with finding someone who had some kind of— spiritual or magical power so that they could help me deliver my final message to her.”

“I thought your world didn’t have that kind of magic,” Amber interjected gently.

“It doesn’t,” Mitsu said, smiling joylessly. “So I decided before I met you that I would give up. But then you—”

Mitsu took a shaky breath.

“You told me about telling the bees, and you said that I might be able to talk to her again, and I… just can't seem to let go and forget.”

Despite the minimal sound in the warmth between them, Mitsu couldn’t even hear Amber breathe as he continued, "I want to love you fully—not in some fake relationship for political power, but in something better.”

He opened his eyes finally, and his vision was blurred. “I’m so sorry that I can’t.”

“Oh, Mitsu, no—” There was a thud as Amber stumbled off the couch and scooted toward his trembling form on the floor.

“Bees above, please don't say that,” she pleaded as she pulled the covers away and wrapped her arms around him. “There's nothing you need to apologize for."

Mitsu just let her hold him close, the tears strangely unforthcoming. She petted his hair soothingly. “I told you from the start, didn’t I? That telling the bees is about staying connected with those who have moved on?”

Amber kissed the top of his head. “I would never ask you to forget. I’d never want you to,” she said with quiet conviction. "Who told you that you had to?"

Her breath tickled his hair, and Mitsu closed his eyes at the sensation. "Everyone,” he said, laughing drily. “Except Ren, really.”

“They lied to you, then,” Amber said, dismissing their words. “There’s nothing wrong with the fact that you still cherish her. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with the way you love me." He could feel her lips as they curled into a smile. “Or the way I love you.”

Mitsu hadn’t realized how focused he’d become on forgetting Sakura, but Amber’s words were an affirmation that he knew he had secretly craved for so long. He tried to forget—honest, he’d tried—but the ugly truth everyone neglected to acknowledge was that he had suffered far more because of it.

He couldn’t watch their favorite cooking show together. He couldn’t keep all her mementos in the house. He couldn’t walk down the shampoo aisle and let himself remember without feeling like he needed to punish himself for lingering on her memory. He'd felt like he had to get rid of Sakura like she was some kind of malady the mediums could remedy with a little incense and cash.

If Amber was telling him that he didn’t need to do that anymore…that he could speak to her again, could share about her and their life together without forcing himself to let go of her forever… then bees above, he wanted to.

Mitsu chuckled.

“What?” Amber asked. “Was my confession that bad, Mr. Booty Man?”

“You really like the sweats, don’t you?”

“Can you blame me?” Amber asked. “Have you seen how you look in them?”

“My wife—Sakura—actually bought them for me as a joke,” Mitsu admitted, his heart fluttering.

Amber laughed. “A joke? I’m not sure about that.”

“…Well, I thought it was a joke.”

“It wasn’t,” Amber said, laughing hard enough that she had to wipe away tears. “And I must say, she had impeccable taste.”