In the darkness, it was well past the time where we should have risen. However, I couldn't bring myself to do it. No doubt, Sana was staring at where I would be, the direction of my voice. He was listening, not saying a word until I was finished.

"My whole career, I was dressed by someone else," I went on. "Ren dressed me, Tatara even came up with some concepts. Osamu carefully put together my traditional ensembles, too. And now, I've told you about who started it all: Lady Elizabeth. I think I was scared to do it myself. What if I made a mistake? What if I looked ridiculous? I didn't know what I was doing. They were professionals. They all styled for a living. I was clay in their hands. I didn't make any choices. They knew better what would work on me than I ever did. I styled myself when I was still at my arts school, but I felt safe there. No one was going to judge me. But, it's so scary out here in the real world. Everyone has an opinion, and everyone is going to use it. Wearing feminine clothes is so personal. If someone told me that I... If someone insulted me, I would be destroyed."

I paused, but he didn't speak. Waiting. Under the covers, his thumb was rubbing the back of my hand. Letting me know he was there, the heat of his body another presence. The familiar weight of it. The darkness was safe, too. Just like it always was when I dressed in women's clothes at home. But, it was different this time. This darkness. Instead of hiding, it only let me know he was paying attention more, because he couldn't see me. In that way, he was seeing me.

"What if I wear something I like, and someone says something terrible? I'm not strong enough. Other people wear these things, but it's not personal. They can get made fun of and still have their chin up. But, it's so different when it's for me. If I wore clothes that others chose for me and people didn't like it, I didn't have to take it personally. I didn't like wearing western clothes, so I shrugged when people said they didn't like my outfit. But, I don't know what it means now. People wouldn't dare say they didn't like my clothes when I wore historical kimono. There's a certain level of respect for the garments at a base. There was safety in that... But there's such a freedom of opinion when it comes to western clothes. I don't know why that is, and it's scary."

All these words coming out of my mouth. They were brand new to me. Each sentence was an epiphany, finally allowing myself to think about these things. A strange freedom of my own, from an impossible place that I didn't know I had. My eyes were wide in the dark. It was like a Pandora's box was opened, but what was coming out of it? Remembering Lady Elizabeth and what she means to me. Not having thought about her in a long time, suddenly remembering her vividly as if I'd seen her yesterday. All of my friends from back then, even Keitaro and Ren from when they were much younger. It was all so vivid, and I didn't know what to do.

"You bought this nightgown for me, and it made me think about things. I love how this nightgown makes me feel, but it's scary, too. What am I going to do, Sana?"

Finally asking him a question. Involving him in my monologue. All of my thoughts, spilling out in the open for him. As I spoke, it occurred to me that I'd never really spoken about this to him. How many times had I dressed in western feminine costumes around him? It had been nearly a year. At least ten months ago, right? Dressing casually like this. Playing a card game with him, cutting a bouquet of flowers to go into one of my vases. Wearing these clothes, and being nervous the whole time. So nervous, that I'd freak out and disappear into my bedroom and change. Leaving him outside of the room, not knowing what he thought about it. Being embarrassed, but knowing he must understand on some level. He'd be, after all, left standing in my kitchen or living room wearing feminine clothes himself. And that in itself was a miracle. Him standing there, looking beautiful. Being himself. And yet, I couldn't be myself. 

"Who am I?" I asked quietly. "I don't know who I am. I've never even chosen a dress before. It's always been a costume. But, I don't want to wear a costume anymore." Almost a whisper. 

His hand left mine, and instead his arm wrapped around my back. His bare palm touched my skin, above where the nightgown ended, between the straps. There it rubbed, so gentle. He slid closer, feeling his face on my neck, but not in a sexual manner. Loving me as I want to be loved. Filling a warmth in my shivering heart. 

Slow words. "You have chosen a dress before."

I shook my head, not able to move much in our new shape together, but he felt it. He nodded gently into me. 

"Yes, you have."

Small panic. "No, I don't think so. I had costumes that I borrowed from my company to do photo sets for my blog, and I bought some other costume quality clothes from-"

"Your wedding dress."

Complete quiet. 

"Your wedding dress isn't a costume."

He sounded satisfied, having pointed this out. A happiness there, to show me. He went on, surprising me further. I was stunned into silence. It sounded so simple, and reminded me just why I love him, one of the millions of reasons.

"And if you liked those costumes you bought for yourself, then they weren't costumes. Costumes are just clothes, aren't they? They might not be constructed right, or they might be made of cheaper materials, or be too theatrical to be worn from day to day, but they're just clothes in the end."

I let out a breath, no direction as to the meaning. "I suppose that's true. But..." I didn't know what to say.

"You chose them," he filled in for me. "You styled yourself, without anyone's input. You did it in a safe way, where no one could judge you if you weren't ready. I'd say that's an accomplishment. And you had the courage to show me the clothes you chose, which was very brave."

My voice was so small when it came out again. "That's true." My emotions. Realizing his meaning. 

"You've been styling yourself for years where it counts."

My arms squeezed him tighter involuntarily. Needing him. How the same we are, how we understand each other like this. This precious gift. This conversation seemed so short compared to how long I'd waited in my life, the significance of it. His precious words to me. What they meant.

My nose buried into his hair, smelling his shampoo from yesterday. Holding him close. He was wearing a nightgown like me, a short and black one. How much we understood each other. So the same. Knowing he understood so completely. I could say anything to him about this, and he'd know already. It made me feel the safest I've ever felt. 

"I want to know what your style is," he said, a little muffled. "What's your style? What do you like? I want to know all of it." His warm breaths, floating down the front of my nightgown due to our closeness. His voice, as if he were dreaming of it already, making a blush on my cheeks. 

I stared forward into the darkness, peeking for a light, but there wasn't any. "I don't know. I've never really thought about it. I feel...ridiculous."

His arms tightened around me. His head shook a little. "You're not ridiculous. You're never ridiculous."

My brows creased as my eyes closed, loving him. I held him closer, squeezing and not letting go, like the middle of a hug that lasts forever. Trying not to think about what came before. How impossible the conversation would have been with absolutely anyone else. 

"I want to see your style," he whispered, muffled more, into my skin. "I can't wait to see your style."

Unexpectedly, I sniffled. Not meaning to cry at this. I'd started off in wonder, thinking about myself in new ways. But, it had turned into this. Knowing he had my back. Being able to tell him these things, and for him to understand. Never in forty years had I been able to say anything like this and know I wouldn't be met with ridicule or questions. He just knew. Loving me, being excited. 

"I don't know how to find myself," I said, surprising myself yet again. Just finally talking, whatever came out. 

"Hmm. I'd say you're doing a pretty good job already."

Stunned into silence again. We were just talking, but he was right. By talking about it, I was making changes to my thinking. This safety. Courage to say what I normally wouldn't. 

I nestled my lower face into his hair, loving the feel of it. His hand began to rub my back, and I melted like butter in his arms. Loving him more than I thought I could love. Talking to him about this, without fear. His listening without judgment, because he'd never judge. There was nothing to judge, and it was amazing. How made it made me feel inside...

To be loved this completely. The entirety of me. 

"I want to talk more about this," I breathed into his hair. "I don't want to get up and have to go. I want to stay like this."

"Me, too," he said immediately, no hesitation. We were one in the same. "I don't want anything else. I want to know what you're thinking about this. I love you."

My breath hitched. The next long one took in all of his scent, filling me with it. Making a bliss like I've never felt. "I love you, too."

Soon, we'd have to get up to prepare for our day which was already late. This conversation could go on for another day. We might sleep on it or continue later today. What was certain was that we would. I knew so completely that he'd want to. And that made me feel...I had no words for it at all. Because, how does one express the feeling of being loved for everything they are? There aren't any words. It's just a feeling, and it made me want to cry. 

As I held him, completely being able to be myself, I cried. Just a little bit into his hair. He felt it, but didn't flinch. Instead, the pads of his fingers touched my back, pressing there. Holding me as I cried, with such a love that was like a universe. One which only contained us two. A love so gentle, that it's quiet and unyielding. Not having to have expectations. Just love, pure and wise, simple and beautiful.