Night was on the cusp of falling, casting a rich shade of indigo across the still surface of the lake. The air was damp, but cool. The heat of the day had slowly sloughed off as eventide had come, cautious and luxurious in its touch that trailed along everything, inciting shadows to blossom and lengthen. A chorus of crickets chirruped somewhere in the brush, and the flora that was in full bloom rustled in a light, tickling breeze. The air was rich with the smell of growth, a mixture of things I could not quite name and number. This was the height of spring, and all the valley was indulging in it.

It was just the two of us, Sebastian and I, standing here in the clearing by the lake. His project's deadline had been extended another season and so it seemed right for us to meet tonight and spend some quality time together.

"You didn't want to invite Sam or Abigail to hang out?" I had asked as I had settled on his bed and began thumbing through the comic book that sat on his pillow.

He had shaken his head, the movement containing no hesitation or question in it. "I'll tell them later about the extension." He had come and sat next to me then, reclined such that I could see his relief and exhaustion in the lines of his body. His gaze had slid to mine. "There's only one person in the entire world right now that I want to see," he paused, a light pink already creeping across his cheeks, "and it's you."

I nodded, unable to contain my grin. "I understand completely."

We had spent the afternoon resting, reading, and talking. We were both behind in the comic series we were reading so it had been a comfortable silence that had covered and coddled us while we had read. The silence was punctuated by all of the small bits of information we hadn't been able to relay to each other over the past few weeks: reactions to the ending of Lionheart XII, jabs at the new programming language that was currently all the rage, inquiries about how our families were doing.

We probably would have spent the entire night like this except I had stumbled and swayed when I had stood up, hungry for more reading material, ready to dig into another comic. He had caught my arm in his grasp, lines of worry creasing his brow as the room had spun around me.

"Hey," he had said, "maybe we should go outside for a bit, get some fresh air. You have to take care of yourself." He eyed me, a genuine concern flitting about his lips with a slight frown. "And when you don't, I will."

Haltingly, I had nodded my agreement. Who was I to argue with caring intentions?

We left his house at the apex of sunset, that golden hour that was glorious and mournful all at the same time. I thought vaguely about how my animals were all likely making their way back inside their barns and coops. I would have to make sure to close up after them when I got back, but there was plenty of time still to do that.

"You know," I had said, "I kind of feel better already. Less dizzy somehow." I sucked in a deep breath of fresh mountain air, feeling my heart throb in my chest as my thoughts touched on that familiar pendant in my bag.

"Being outside does everyone some good," Sebastian had said as we came to the side of the lake. The last rays of sunlight streaked across his face, and I felt my heart stutter as I took in this sight that I couldn't have dreamt of witnessing just over a year ago. Who had we been last year at this time? A fledgling farmer trying to make sense of a new life? A misunderstood software developer longing for a change? A lot had happened in a year.

And now here we were, basking in the after glow of day melting into dusk, somehow less lost and more understood.

"It definitely feels like we're in the second half of spring now," I said looking up from watching a small fish shimmy through the clear waters before us. "Look at all the flowers in bloom, vibrantly pink and beautiful."

"Yup." His curt response caught my attention, and there was an irritation in his tone.

I blinked. "Is something bothering you?" I asked, heart sinking. That had been a strangely sudden change in his disposition.

"The flower festival is in three days," he said moodily, a stormy darkness reflecting in his eyes. I could see that this had been gnawing on him, though he hadn't mentioned it until now.

A curiosity got hold of me. "Can't you just not go?"

He sighed. "All the unmarried people are supposed to participate. It's a tradition."

I felt a jolt in my chest, and an idea crept into my consciousness that both excited and disturbed me. My palms were sweaty as I turned my backpack around so that it hung off my front, but somehow I managed to do so without shaking. "Including me?" Sebastian's eyes flicked to my fingers tugging on the zipper, but his gaze returned to the calm waters of the lake as I groped around for the pendant I had spent every night gazing at until slumber took me. As my fingers closed around its familiar shape, I slipped my hand back out of my bag, feeling a small amount of relief mingled with fear.

"I think for yourself it's up for debate. But for the rest of us who have been here forever..." he trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his hand. I could hear all the unsaid things behind the movement: the gossip, the judgements, the whispers, the questions.

My heart pounded in my chest with anticipatory stress. Was I really going to do this? Was today the right day? But if not today, would there ever be a right day? What if proposing only made his bad mood worse? And what if he said no? I silently sucked in a deep breath and felt my decision balance on the edge of a blade.

"I'll dance with you if you go." My voice sounded suspiciously nonchalant as I shrugged, trying to conceal the turmoil that churned my insides. "Though I don't know if that really solves anything."

He gave out a short, sad laugh, and I was glad not to detect anger in it. "I appreciate you offering to suffer along with me," he said and managed a small smile that dissolved back into distress. His fingers fidgeted, and I knew that he longed for a cigarette, though he did not reach into a pocket for one. A flutter of pride shone through my tempest of fears for a moment.

"I just hate it," he continued, a cold fury colouring his words now. "I hate the stupid outfits. I hate the stupid dance we have to do. I hate having everyone watching. It's so embarrassing, and you'd think I'd have gotten used to it by now, but I haven't—I can't. I just can't." His words ended with anguish, a torturous sense of defeat accepted and embraced. There was a silent question behind his words: what's wrong with me? Why am I the only one bothered by this so much? He looked at me with mournful eyes that were full of dying stars, and my breath caught. I understood him, understood that intense discomfort that this dance brought him. I remembered that anonymity I had valued so much back in Zuzu City, and knew that despite the freneticism of the city, that was one aspect that he longed for and could not have here. Anonymity brought a freedom with it, and didn't we all just want freedom, in the end? The freedom to be who we wished, and do what we pleased?

My decision slipped from its precarious perch and I knew what I wanted to do.

"Well," I began, picking my words carefully, the thud of my pulse filling my head like a low, throaty drum, "what if you no longer met the criteria for having to participate?" The mermaid's pendant seemed to warm in the palm of my hand, encouraging and evocative.

He cut me a severe look that wasn't nearly as suspicious as it should have been. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is," I paused and held my hand out in front of me, my fingers unfurling around the glistening blue shell. "Sebastian," his name fell from my lips like a curtain on a stage, "it's been a tough spring being away from you so much. And I know you've been busy and I don't want you to feel bad about it, but it's been hard. I think you've felt it too. I'm thankful for all the time you've spent with me, but I wish I could've been there more to support you." I swallowed as his eyes drifted down from my face and he took in the pendant cupped in my palm, glinting in the fading light of the day and the glow from my ring. I inhaled deeply. "I want to be the one you wake up to, I want to be the one who takes down your nightmares so you can sleep. I want to cook for you, I want to care for you, I want to whisk you away from this house and the monsters within it. Sebastian," I continued, just barely maintaining my nerve under the intensity of his gaze, "I offer you myself. I offer you my life and my love."

He stared at the pendant and then at me, his dark eyes wide and flecked with surprise. Fear gripped me once more in the moment of silence that settled between us, and my stomach felt like it was sliding further and further down my body. I watched him suck in a breath and slowly, carefully release it, the quietude broken by the delicate whoosh of breathing. A delicious blush spread across his cheeks and the biggest grin I'd ever seen to grace his face slid into view. "I accept," he said, and his voice quavered with a jubilant tenderness. "I'll set everything up. We'll have the ceremony in three days, okay?"

His words were a rushed stream, but there was no unkindness in their pacing. Exultant joy cast a luminescence about him and I couldn't help but return the smile that he gave me. The prince of darkness looked damn good despite the light that seemed to be cascading off his skin. I could have cried from relief, but managed to contain myself in spite of the emotion surging within me. "That sounds great, Sebastian. Three days. That works out perfectly."

A look of confusion furrowed his brow for the merest of moments, but then sweet, crisp dawning fell upon him and his grin returned in full. "It is perfect, isn't it?"

I nodded, pressing closer to him. His arms wrapped around me snugly. Perfect—truly that was the word to describe this moment as night conquered day, anger fell to liberty, and fears melted into the shadows that sheltered and consoled us. "Do you recall what I said to you last year around this time?"

He nodded with a sudden jerk of his head, and I knew he remembered now. "'Next year we shall bow to no Flower gods'," he murmured. "You are so clever."

"I try," I murmured, grinning in spite of myself.

"Imagine," he began, and there was a dreamy quality to the fevered look he wore. "In a couple days, I'm going to be living on a farm. I can't believe it." The words were soft and wistful. "I'm happy, though," he said, a shy smile curving his lips.

"Good," I whispered before my fiancé closed the distance between us and kissed me.