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Dove furrowed his brow. His chin wobbled. I don’t know what that means.

I can’t show you if you don’t wake up.

Dove’s answer came after minutes of eerie silence. How do I do that?

The same way you’ve kept summoning me, little Dove. By making it happen.

Melchom thought he saw the human’s lips curl up into a small smile. It didn’t have to mean anything, though.

What if what you show me isn’t enough? Can I get back here?

Melchom’s heart pounded against his chest. Every fiber of his being wanted to scream his refusal. He couldn’t have that. He wouldn’t reign or live in any realm where he didn’t have his feisty human beside him. Melchom couldn’t handle it.

I’ll find a way.

Because maybe Melchom wasn’t as selfish as he’d grown to believe after he’d fallen. And maybe Melchom deserved an eternity of pain for the one that got away… the dove that he should’ve cherished.

Do you promise?

It physically hurt to nod, but he still did it, bobbing his head up and down. His teeth ground together, his fists clenching. Melchom wouldn’t cry. He hadn’t done that… ever. Not even when he lost his crown.

Why? Dove asked.

Melchom thought Dove had moved closer. He must be getting used to the way bodies moved in there, which meant Melchom was running out of time.

A sense of urgency filled him, forcing him to look the human in the eye. He ignored his body’s itch to touch, to tuck a finger beneath Dove’s chin and force his gaze up.

Because I now understand it when you thought of me as a monster. The truth in his words was like a punch to the gut, one that would leave a deeper scar than that hellhound ever had. I don’t deserve owning you, little Dove, but maybe I can compensate you.

Melchom saw his human’s eyes well up with tears before the image of him faded.

Melchom didn’t know what that meant, and he didn’t think he was ready to figure it out. Dove’s body still lay motionless against his body, dirtied with blood and tear tracks Melchom should probably get cleaned.

Melchom didn’t move. Instead, he started digging around, opening mirrors and finding all the memories that had once been important to his human. Melchom needed to at least have this. Another look at his Dove, another minute of marveling of his courage, his bravery.

Maybe Melchom could convince himself he wasn’t as selfish as he’d once thought, but he wasn’t selfless either.

He felt called to by one of the mirrors more than the others. It showed Dove about three or four years ago. He was with his then friend, Jordan. They were trying on clothes. Dove had run away from his parents’ house not so long ago. Jordan had been helping him navigate social services, and he was sharing a room with him. Dove had just been hired at a daycare for little kids, and Jordan insisted they go on a shopping spree to celebrate.

“You should try this,” Jordan showed a cute sundress in lilac.

“No way,” his Dove snorted, but a blush creeped up his cheeks. “Don’t be ridiculous, J.”

“The kids would love it.”

“And their parents would get me fired,” Dove shot back.

Jordan stood silent for a few seconds. “You could still wear it outside of work.”

“Why? So you can patch me up every night I get home with a busted lip?”

“We’re safe here.” Jordan walked up to him, grabbing his wrist. “This is not your father’s town. And you have pepper spray.”

“I don’t know.” Dove chewed on his lip. “What if I freeze?”

“You won’t. Jordan chuckled. “I know you. Besides, what’s the point of living if your wardrobe doesn’t make you twirl around with happiness?”

“I could think of a few.” His human had already been convinced. “But fine. You’re paying for it, though.”