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The first thing he came to was the smell of silver sugar.
“Shall?”
Someone was calling him. Their voice was muffled, but sweet, gentle. He wanted to follow it.
“Shall?
His eyelids felt like they were fused together, but he managed to open them. Two red spots on a beige background stared back at him.
He blinked the fuzz out. The two red spots were in fact two eyes. They reminded him of Anne’s.
“Shall?” the person standing next to him asked again.
Ah, so that’s where the sweet voice came from. A hand cupped his cheek, and he leaned into the warmth with a sigh.
Those hands were safe. How he knew, he didn’t remember, but he was sure of it.
That was about the only thing he was sure of, in fact.
What… had he been doing?
He tried to focus, but his brain struggled with even the most simple of thought. He recalled bits and pieces: the clink of glasses, the off-tune chanting, Mythril Lid Pod’s incessant bugging…
Ah, right. Mercury had invited them all to a party — “To celebrate Anne’s fifth anniversary as a silver sugar master,” he’d said. There had been alcohol, and while he hated to drink, he had accepted a glass or two if only to shut Mythril Lid Pod up.
It seemed he had taken more than a glass or two.
Or maybe he just had some really potent alcohol.
Or a low tolerance.
Whatever the case, he was aching, he had trouble thinking right, he wanted to rest, and he wanted—
“Anne,” he breathed.
The other person smiled. “Yes, that’s me.”
Huh? He narrowed his eyes, trying to focus. The person had Anne’s red-orange eyes alright. Their hair was also the right color, a pale pink straw. But most importantly, they smelled of silver sugar: specifically, Anne’s silver sugar.
“It’s really you?” he asked.
“Yes, it’s really me.” Her smile fell a bit and he mourned its loss. He wanted her happy, not depressed. “Are you okay? I think you’ve drank a bit too much.”
The knowledge that this was Anne filled him with… with… he didn’t know what it filled him with, but he felt content and at peace. He leaned to rest against Anne, head on her shoulder. She was soft and cushy.
“I’m fine now that you’re here,” he mumbled.
Anne giggled. It filled him with pride that he could make her laugh.
Her arm came around his shoulders, and he burrowed his face deeper against her. When her free hand reached for his hair, carding her fingers through the strands, he let out a content sigh, mind and senses filled with her.
He could stay there forever.
“Let’s go back, Shall.”
He hummed. If they went back, then he could rest.
Hold on… rest meant going to bed. Going to bed meant leaving her. Leaving her meant being alone.
He didn’t want to! He wanted to stay like this, wanted to stay with Anne.
Ah, but wait. Didn’t married couples sleep together? If he and Anne were married, then he could sleep in the same bed as her.
Newfound resolution in mind, he found the strength to pull back from her embrace. He held onto her elbows for balance.
“Anne. Marry me,” he told her with the most seriousness he could manage.
She snorted. “I’m already married, silly.”
Something broke inside of him. It was like the ground had opened under him and swallowed him whole. It was like when Anne had sent him away, except a million times more heartbreaking and more confusing.
He thought that he knew Anne the best. How could he have missed her getting married? Why didn’t he do anything to prevent it?
But most importantly: “To whom?”
Anne smiled, a bit unsure. “To you, who else?”
And just as quickly as news of her marriage destroyed him, the news she was married to him made him whole again. His heart was back together and fluttering in his chest like a butterfly.
“You’re my wife?”
“Have been for a few years, yes.”
“You’re my wife?”
“Unless you have another brother called Shall fen Shall who looks and acts exactly like you, then yes.”
He embraced her with all the strength he had (which wasn’t very much: his arms felt like wet sugar), tucking his face against her neck, and breathing in her scent.
She was his wife. They were married. That meant—
“We don’t have to be apart?” he asked in a small voice.
“Is that what you were worried about?” Anne hugged him in return, rubbing a hand up and down his spine. “Even if we weren’t married, there’s no way I’d ever leave you.”
“I would never leave you too,” he confessed.
They stayed like that for a while. Lulled by Anne’s sweet scent and her warmth, Shall fen Shall’s eyes grew heavy, his breathing deepening. Soon, he was asleep.
“Shall? Shall, hold on, did you fall asleep on me? How are we going to go home? Shall? Shall!”