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Two years and three days after his father’s death, Ike stands in his bedroom and holds his heart in his hands. “You should take this,” he tells Mist.
His sister looks up from the papers she is organizing, all yellowed like the afternoon sun broken into sheets by the dusty windowpanes. Ike raises a hand, knowing from Mist’s pose that she is not going to move from where she is lounging against the desk, haloed with flyaways and draped with a moth-eaten wool cardigan their father used to wear. Mist squints. Then her eyes widen. “Oh, wow. No, you should take it.”
“You’ll get more use out of it than I will.”
Her eyes narrow again, her face scrunching. Ike shifts his weight, ready to bear the brunt of her anger. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Not sure what she’s thinking, he begins with the obvious. “It’s a girl’s ring.”
“And you think I’ll propose lots and lots of girls in my life? Huh?”
He frowns. Oh, oops. He didn’t mean for it to sound like that. “No. Not really. I thought you might like to wear it.”
Mist studies the ring for a moment, her expression settling into a frown as well. “You should keep it,” she reiterates. “I could wear it, but… it’s an engagement ring. It’s meant to be used.”
Looking between his fingertips, Ike watches the gem embedded in the ring reflect the filtered sunlight in white faceted flashes, turning it slowly like the painted dancer atop mother’s old music box. The crystal looks all the more brilliant for the dull shine of the gold band holding it, sloping smoothly in a perfect circle only broken visually by Ike’s skin. “It’s too pretty for a guy like me,” he says. “Besides, it wouldn’t fit.”
“You don’t wear it, you dummy,” Mist huffs, the papers in her hands rustling as she abandons them on the desk. “You give it to someone else and they wear it.”
Ike tries not to blush the color of Mist’s dress, eyes darting aside. “Oh, well, I know that,” he explains. “I just don’t have any intention of marrying…”
“Maybe not right now, but you will someday.” She smiles reassuringly, which would be bad enough on its own, but then she says, “Just because you and Elincia didn’t have that special spark doesn’t mean that girl’s not out there waiting for you.”
Suddenly very uncomfortable, Ike fidgets with the ring, rubbing it between both index fingers and both thumbs. Rocking it back and forth, pressing the gemstone toward the window and away, into the light and out. “I hope she’s not,” he begins, “Because I’m not looking for her.”
“Ike!” Mist laughs, swatting the air with one dismissive hand. “Don’t be so cold!”
“I’m not being cold.” Back and forth, in and out. “It would be colder if I married someone and didn’t love her.”
They are both quiet for a moment. “You really don’t think you’ll fall in love?” Mist asks.
She sounds genuine and caring, as Ike knows she can be. Emboldened, he stills his fingers, stares down at the topaz eye of the ring, and comes to his conclusion. “Not with a woman.”
“With a man, then?”
Ike shrugs, his lips twitching with a smile he keeps to himself.
The wooden desk creaks as Mist adjusts herself, crossing her arms and turning fully to Ike. Her head nods, though, and she maintains her relaxed look. “The ring might be too small for most men, but it might fit someone.”
Would it? Maybe. Ike holds it up again, peering through the gold-rimmed slot beneath the gem. It does seem the right size for a man with slender fingers… Yet even if the band is right, the topaz is still there, a radiant magnet that refracts the light and attracts the eye. “He wouldn’t like it. It’s too glamorous for him.”
“So you are thinking of someone.” Refocusing, Ike finds Mist looking right back at him wearing a knowing smile. When he blinks in surprise, she grins. “Do I know him?”
He lowers his arm. “I don’t have to answer that.”
She leans forward. “So I do know him.” Just as suddenly, she straightens up, clapping her hands together. “Oh, I know who it is…”
“Mist, please,” he begs. “Let’s not gossip.”
“Aww, but you two are so sweet! You know he likes you back, right? I know you’re thick-headed, but you’re not that thick, are you?”
This time, he cannot help but blush. “I know. I know he likes me, too, I mean.” He knows it very well. He’s lucky. Impossibly so.
“So, give him the ring! It should fit him perfectly.”
It takes Ike’s brain a second to start working again. The idea that he could propose to him, that other people would encourage him to do so, had never crossed his mind. He is glad to have Mist’s support, but it is a little overwhelming. Besides… “It might fit him, but it’s not right for him,” he argues, shaking his head. “If I ever propose to him, I want it to be just right.”
With a disappointed sigh, Mist nonetheless nods. “I understand. You don’t want the use the ring just because it’s what you have on hand. You want to get him a ring that matches his personality.” She smirks. “Something bold and sharp, maybe?”
Ike huffs. “No,” he says, ducking his head. His eyes flit across the pages of sunlight on the floor. “Something practical and elegant.” The gold band can stay, maybe, depending on his sense of style at the time of engagement—though he wore gold-trimmed robes at one point in his life, now he has transitioned away from them, and Ike wants to account for his fancies. Should there be a gemstone, it should be small, polished to a shine yet inconspicuous to the improper eye.
Maybe something red, like his eyes.
“You really are in love with him,” Mist mutters. Ike refuses to be embarrassed. Mist hops up onto the desk, the ends of father’s oversized cardigan spilling downward with her skirt as she slouches. “Well, if you’re not going to use the ring, what should we do with it?”
“You really don’t want it?” Ike asks. If he could wear it, he might. Though he’d be awfully worried about breaking it, or his finger, in a fight. It just seems nice, to have something physical to wear to remember his parents by.
“I don’t know… it seems wrong to wear it like an ornament when it’s mean to be a sign of love…” Letting her hair fall in her face, she begins poking at the papers on the desk. “There is a chance I would propose to someone who could wear it…” Mysteriously, she trails off, the silence charged with something Ike cannot yet comprehend. “You know…” she says anyway, and Ike gets the feeling that he should.
“Mist?”
She turns to him, her eyes shadowed yet alight with determination. “I mean I might use it to propose to a woman, but I still like men, too, and it… well, it… do you get it now?”
“Yes, of course,” Ike says, understanding. He holds out the ring. “You really should take it, then. Like I said, you’ll make more use of it than I will.”
Mist huffs, shaking her head as if Ike has missed the point, yet she holds out her hand anyway. “I guess it would be a bigger shame if we sold it,” she muses as Ike tips the ring onto her palm. It sparkles like a bead of sunflower nectar, sticky with sunlight. “Or if it stayed hidden in this room forever. There,” she says, slipping the ring into place on her right hand. She splays her fingers in the window-light, admiring the glow. “I actually really like it!”
“Told you so,” Ike claims, turning away. Now that the problem has been solved, he can get back to work. The rest of his father’s chest needs to be sorted through, and the day isn’t getting any younger.
“Well, actually, I think you’re wrong. It would’ve looked good on Soren.” Ike stops dead. “Too late now, you’ll have to get him a different one.”
Whirling around, he tries to look more angry than panicked. “Mist!”
She only smiles, smugly shuffling some papers about. “Ruby would match his eyes. It’d be so romantic, not that you could afford it now that you’re not a noble. Maybe corundum? That’s meant to ease anger, so that’s definitely a good choice for his temper.”
“Mist! Be nice!” Yeah, Soren has a temper, but he’s also so considerate and so compassionate in ways other people might not understand because he tries to hide it from them, but Ike can see clear as day, like a ray of light shining through spring water. Soren can be angry, but Soren can be gentle, too. He’s learning how to love and how to be loved—Ike knows he loves him, Ike hopes he knows he loves him just the same—Oh, Mist is never going to leave him alone if they do get married—
“No, I am not going to be nice,” Mist enunciates. “I’ve never gotten to tease you about a crush before. This’ll be fun!”
With a mighty groan, Ike leaves her behind him and stalks over to his father’s chest, kneeling down in front of it and giving his hands something to do. This is going to be a long afternoon… he can’t wait until supper. Hopefully, Mist can keep a secret in the name of solidarity.
Despite her teasing, it’s nice to know that they are more alike than he previously thought. He’s glad that she’s accepting of him, and that she took their parents’ ring. No matter who she marries, it makes Ike happy to remember that his family will only grow with time. His heart is more than ready to hold them and write new memories onto its pages… he can already imagine Soren’s handwriting tattooing itself in sunbathed ink.