Tangled In Strings

Chapter 30: UnMasked

The morning came slowly.

Not with a burst of light or birdsong, but in a soft, patient haze — like the world knew to tread gently. Pale rays of sunlight filtered through the vine-laced windows, brushing across the blanket-strewn bed where two figures lay in a quiet tangle.

Snatcher was still half-asleep, one arm lazily draped over Moonjumper’s side, shadows curling protectively around them both like a second blanket.

But Moonjumper was awake.

And his mask was gone.

---

✦ No More Glamours

The mask sat on the nightstand, still and cold. For the first time in years — decades, perhaps — Moonjumper’s face remained uncovered.

No swirling void of starlight. No magical illusion to keep others at a distance.

Just his true face.

Sharp cheekbones, dark eyes with silver flecks, and faint tear streaks that had dried sometime before dawn.

He stared at his reflection in the window, vulnerable and unsure.

And for once... didn’t flinch.

---

✦ Waking Up Slow

Snatcher groaned softly and stretched like a cat, rubbing at his eyes with one shadowy limb. When he blinked open and saw Moonjumper — maskless — sitting beside him with a soft expression, he stilled.

“...You’re not wearing it.”

Moonjumper looked at him nervously, heart pounding. “No.”

Snatcher sat up slowly, eyes never leaving him. “Are you... okay?”

A pause.

Then, a smile — real, tired, but there.

“I think I’m finally starting to be.”

Snatcher reached over and brushed a thumb along Moonjumper’s cheekbone, gently tucking a lock of hair behind his ear.

“You look... real.”

Moonjumper’s breath caught. “Does that mean good or terrifying?”

Snatcher smirked. “Both. But mostly hot.”

---

✦ Slow Morning Rituals

They moved slowly through the morning.

Snatcher made tea — actual, non-cursed tea — while Moonjumper sat at the windowsill in a long robe, the golden light kissing his unmasked skin. He didn’t hide. He didn’t reach for the illusion. He just... let himself exist.

They ate honeyed toast and jam, Snatcher sneakily stealing bites off Moonjumper’s plate and getting a glare every time.

“You have your own.”

“But yours tastes like star magic and romance. Mine tastes like ash and spite.”

“You’re the one who made it.”

“I know. Tragic.”

---

✦ Opening Up

Later, they sat in the garden — the one Moonjumper had grown with quiet love. Birds fluttered near the vines, and small ghost wisps played among the wildflowers.

Moonjumper leaned against Snatcher, warm and quiet, the mask nowhere in sight.

“I wore it so long, I forgot what my face looked like,” he murmured. “It was easier. Being a symbol. Being something other than… me.”

Snatcher was silent for a moment. Then he gently laced their fingers together.

“You’ve always been you. Mask or not. The one who threatened my forest, made moonlight bloom, cursed my library books, and still somehow makes me want to kiss you until time melts.”

Moonjumper chuckled. “You have a way with words.”

“I have a way with you.”

Moonjumper leaned in and pressed a slow, soft kiss to his forehead.

---

✦ The Mask Stays Off

By the time afternoon light slanted through the trees, Moonjumper had set the mask on a high shelf inside.

Not locked away.

Not burned.

Just… placed there.

Like something no longer needed, but respected.

Snatcher saw it, and didn’t say a word. But he did pull Moonjumper in for a kiss so lingering and sincere it stole the breath from his lungs.

“Thank you,” Moonjumper whispered.

“For what?”

“For seeing me.”

---

✦ End Scene

Outside, the Rift pulsed faintly. Vanessa’s shadows stirred in the distance.

But inside their garden sanctuary, peace reigned.

No masks. No illusions. Just love — messy, healing, and very, very real.