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As you lie sleeping on the assortment of furs in the corner, Muriel paces the hut with heavy thoughts. Although the two of you had gotten to know each other quite well after the whole Lucio/Devil debacle, and Muriel enjoyed your presence more than he would ever admit out loud, there was still a voice bitterly scratching at the back of his mind that he would never be enough for you.
The more he thought about how kind you are, how loving and gentle you are, how absolutely perfect you are, the louder the voice became. Coming to a final decision, Muriel reaches into your pocket, takes the pouch of myrrh you kept to avoid forgetting about him and replaces it with a pouch of rosemary. He makes sure to light the myrrh-infused incense Asra gifted him so you could still remember for the time being. Muriel’s guilt for stealing your belongings and betraying your trust is fleeting as he reminds himself that you deserve so much more than he could ever possibly give you.
The sun shines, lighting up the room and making him realize that he was awake for the whole night. Shaking off his sudden drowsiness, he makes his way to the chickens outside to feed them and grab eggs for his last breakfast with you. When he comes back in, you are already sitting up and petting Inanna with the gentlest of touches. The sight puts a small smile on Muriel’s face before he remembers that the scene in front of him will never occur again.
This look of sadness is not missed by you. “Is something wrong, Muriel?” you ask with concern. Your question only confirms his reasons for taking away the myrrh--his presence only brings worry and troubles to others.
“Mm,” he absentmindedly replies, turning away to prepare breakfast. His movements suddenly halt when he feels arms wrap around him from behind.
“Whatever is wrong, I hope things get better soon,” you say quietly into his back. Your breath and arms consume Muriel’s thoughts. He swallows the lump in his throat before requesting you to move back. “Oh, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I just wanted to give you a hug--that’s all.”
The sense of guilt is back, along with a flush of embarrassment on his face. “N-no, it’s fine. I . . . liked it,” he admits. Sneaking a glance at your face, he is met with a smile big enough to light up the whole hut.
“Then I guess I better give you some more after breakfast, cutie,” you wink at him. He splutters, trying to think of anything to say back at your ridiculous statement when he ends up grabbing the pan without a towel, effectively burning his whole hand. Despite the pain, he looks for a towel so that he could at least finish making you breakfast. “Muriel! Forget about the eggs, let me take a look at your hand!”
“It’sfine.Itdoesn’thurt,” he responds in one breath, not wanting to inconvenience you any more than he may have already.
“Nonsense. I’ve seen you hurt plenty of times. I think I know pain when I see it.” Making quick work, you grab his medical supplies kit and take out the gauze to wrap his hand. “Hold still, I’m going to repair any burnt flesh and attempt to reduce the pain.” You detail the steps of what you are going to do before doing them, much like you did when first meeting him in the forest all those weeks ago.
But Muriel can barely feel any pain in his hand between your delicate touches and caring voice. Once more, a moment with you is just a reminder of his failures. If he couldn’t keep himself safe from eggs, how could he ever keep you safe? He opens his mouth, ready to apologize to you, but you beat him to it. “I’m sorry. If I didn’t say that to you, you would have never burnt your hand. This is all my fault."
“It’s not,” Muriel interjects. It was his own fault for being distracted. Letting his curiosity get the better of him, he asks “Why did you say that?”
This time, you are the one to blush profusely. “I-I guess it’s because I like touching you.”
“????????????” Again, your words make him splutter with disbelief. “What????”
“I-I mean, I also just like . . . when you smile. It makes me happy. “ At this point, you two are as red as one being can get. Though you were usually bold in your comments, you have never said something so blunt and honest.
“W-why are you telling me this?”
“I just wanted to make sure that you are aware of my feelings,” you reply. Your feelings? “Ah . . . I guess I being a bit too honest today, huh?”
Muriel doesn’t say anything for a long time--so long that you have to make sure he hasn’t fallen asleep. “I don’t understand,” he says simply. He has a feeling he knows what you mean, but he doesn’t even entertain the idea that you could be habouring those kinds of feelings for him.
It takes you almost an equally long time to respond, debating with yourself if you should finally admit the truth to him. “I think I’m in love with you.”
Oh.
. . .
Oh.
He can’t even begin to imagine what his face looks like nor can he even think of responding to you. How could you possibly be in love with someone like him?
You seemingly take his silence as a bad reaction and begin to ramble on in order to alleviate the situation. “I-I’m not saying this to get anything out of you. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way, Muriel. That’s why I haven’t said anything until now. I wanted to wait for you to tell me when you are ready, but I guess my feelings are unrequited . . . which is fine! As I said, I don’t expect you to indulge me in my desires at all! I just want to see you happy and smiling. If I-”
“Why?” he cuts you off. Despite the disdain of speaking his mind, he can sense that you were beginning to panic about his silence due to the lack of breaths you were taking.
“Why what?”
“Why do you l-love me?”
Your eyes finally meet his, instantly seeing the mixture of pain and confusion in his eyes. “Oh, Muriel. Do you want me to list it alphabetically or chronologically?” you joke, hoping to lighten his mood, but the frown and scrunched brows remain unmoving. “Ahem. W-well, truthfully, there are so many reasons that it would make it impossible to tell you right now. To start, though, you are so, so kind.”
?? Him? Kind? You must have confused him with yourself. There’s no way someone who has committed so many atrocities as he has could ever be kind. Before he can even open his mouth to argue with you, you continue with a passionate tone that he has never heard before. “The amount of times I have felt joy in your presence is uncountable. Whether it’s the simple joy of just being near you or when you whittle me a new figurine, no one can ever hold a candle to the kindness you’ve shown me.”
Grabbing his hands, you continue, “And these hands. I know what you think about them. I know how often you tell yourself that you’re a monster who only knows how to harm others, but Muriel, that is so far from the truth. These hands have shown me nothing but gentle touches and caring strokes. Yes, you can easily harm me, but you haven’t and you won’t. I trust you with my life, Muriel.”
When his hands begin to shake, you bring them up to your mouth to kiss them. “See? You can probably break my hand if you squeeze hard enough, but you’re not. You can control yourself. You. Are. Not. A. Monster. Okay?”
He swallows a lump in his throat, yet again perplexed with how to respond to anything you’re saying. Though it’s selfish of him, he asks, “Can you tell me more reasons?” His words are so quiet that you have to strain to hear him, but when you realize what he says, you just smile and indulge him some more.
“No matter how much you deny it, you are the most beautiful person I have ever gotten the privilege to see.”
This time he stops you, though he wishes he didn’t. “Even with my scars?” The big question on his mind he swore to himself he wouldn’t ever ask slipped out of his mouth so easily in this moment of vulnerability between you two. He never talked about his scars much around you in detail because he was so terrified of your answer. He knows that they don’t scare you, evident from your first encounter with him, but he clearly is still insecure about them.
“Even with your scars,” you reassure him. “I promise you I am not lying when I say you are beautiful or handsome or cute. Your scars don’t scare me or make me love you any less. They are a reminder of what you went through and how absolutely strong you are. They are not a reminder of how you are a bad person because you simply aren’t one. Nothing I can say or do will change your past, and I wish with everything in me that you never had to go through that to begin with. But you did, and you overcame it! You are still overcoming the leftover trauma, and I will continue to support you; telling you every day that you are not a bad person until you believe it.”
Muriel almost allows himself to be happy before he remembers that he betrayed your trust this morning when he stole the pouch of myrrh from your pocket. The frown deepening on his face is not missed by you yet again, and he decides to tell you the truth--that way you'll see why you shouldn't love him. Retrieving the missing myrrh, he confesses, "I . . . took this out of your pocket earlier." You look at him in confusion and a bit of pain flashes in your eyes that immediately breaks his heart. "I wanted you to forget about me . . . so that you can find someone who actually deserves you."
"Muriel, do you think I deserve to be with someone I love?" you suddenly ask.
"What? Of course!"
"Then I don't see why I can't be with you." He feels his breath catch in his throat as you remind him that you love him. "No matter how undeserving you feel, I guarantee that there is no one in this world that I love more than you."
"B-But I stole from you," he argues. How can you still not understand that he is not good for you?
"Yes, but I forgive you. While I am a bit hurt, I understand why you did it, and I don't love you any less for it." You let out a little sigh and bring your hands to his face, cupping his cheeks. He surprisingly doesn't flinch away at your touch and actually leans into it.
"You know, there's such a thing as being too forgiving," he whispers.
Giving a soft laugh, you begin to stroke his face gently with your thumbs. "You deserve it, though. Let me love you until you learn to love yourself, okay?" He closes his eyes and lets himself be comfortable. Can he do that? Can he be happy? He didn't bother asking again if you thought he was deserving because at this point, he thinks he knows what your answer is, and that scares him the tiniest bit. He never thought that anyone could ever tolerate him, much less love him. It was overwhelming but . . . nice at the same time.
"Okay," he replies, opening his eyes to see you right in front of him. He blushes even harder when he realizes that you are basically straddling his lap. Usually, at this point, he would ask you to move or shift uncomfortably at the display of affection but he lets himself be loved, for now. You stare into his green eyes, saying nothing with words but saying everything with your look. He wants to look away to save himself from some embarrassment at your intense gaze, but he is too entranced with you as well. Neither of you says anything, not wanting to disrupt such a peaceful silence. However, when he recognizes the same desire in your eyes, he voices the request that he has been craving for weeks, "Can you kiss me?"
"It would be my pleasure."
Wanting to take things slow and shower Muriel with as much affection as possible at this moment, you start by lightly brushing your nose with his. Though confused at the action, he doesn't say anything since he finds himself enjoying the little touches. You move up to kiss his forehead, whispering barely coherent confessions of love as you make your way to his eyelids. He feels so loved at this moment more than he has felt in his entire life. You actually trust him not to harm you . . . and he thinks he does too. Becoming impatient, he accidentally lets a hushed whine slip out; a good enough sign for you to finally reach his lips. When he feels the softness of your precious lips against his, he allows himself to touch you and to enjoy himself. As you continue to kiss him and gently stroke his cheeks, he carefully wraps his arms around your back. Rather than going stiff like he believed you would, you defy his uncertainty by pulling him closer and leaning into his gentle caress.
As Muriel lets you lead the way, he ponders what miracles and actions of benevolence he must have done in a past life to be able to indulge in such bliss.
It's nearing late afternoon when you two finally part from each other. Although Muriel would want nothing more than to stay tangled with you, he realizes that neither of you two has actually eaten anything yet. He stands to go and collect forage in order to make lunch but is abruptly halted by you. "Since you've injured your hand, let me make lunch today," you offered. "I'll go to the market and pick up some ingredients to make your favorite, okay?" Normally, he would deny such kindness, not wanting to be a burden, but the look in your eyes tell him that you want to do this for him.
"You'll come back, right?" he asks, unaware of how absolutely adorable he is.
Rather than going on a tangent about how much you love him (again), you settle for a simple reply. "Always." The word is more than enough to satisfy Muriel's doubts and worries that you'll abandon him for today. He even permits a small smile to slip through his meek demeanor, which in turn widens your own smile--although he still doesn't fully understand why.
Kissing his lips one more time, you say goodbye, but he grabs your arm before you can leave. "Here," Muriel says as he hands you back the bag of myrrh, obviously not wanting you to forget him ever again.
Smiling, you take it before admitting something to him. "You know, even if all of this didn't happen, I couldn't ever forget you. The spell stopped working on me a couple of weeks ago; I just keep this myrrh because it smells like you."
At a loss for words, he replies with the only thing he knows that could lessen his burning face, "Please just go to the market."
Rather than feeling sad that he is asking you to leave, you laugh at his response, now knowing what he actually felt about you. "Okay, but I will be back soon, my love."
Before Muriel can even think to respond to your pet name for him, you're out the door. Biting back his disappointment at your departure, he tells himself that you were planning to come back-back to him. Left to his own devices, he debates on what to do before concluding to stare longingly at the door where you just stood, waiting for your return. "I love you too," he confesses softly. Maybe one day he'll be brave enough to say those words to your face, but for now, he has all the love he can take.
For the first time in a long time, he feels hopeful. Hopeful for you, himself, and for the future.