For Elio

[latermaybe]

As summer drew to a close, the new semester gearing up and the anniversary of my third year in Darrow approaching, I couldn't help but think back on my conversation with Sihyun at Pride. My reaction to the news of his engagement has nagged at the back of my mind since the Spring. Even more so, I was rattled by my later admission that the planning of a wedding, and the stress and attention it would bring, was something I instinctively shrank from.

It made me quiet and contemplative, and while I could hide such things in the first weeks of the semester, I knew now that Elio would've noticed.

So, tonight, I made tea. I bought a box of pastries we both liked. Our dinner was small, intimate, as it usually was. Comfortable. Content. I was happy, and making a change felt unwise, but I knew we were both waiting for the other to do something. Say something.

And it needed to be me.

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[speakordie]

“Oh.” I nod a little after he’s finished, brows furrowed slightly as I take a moment to process it all. It’s not exactly surprising that the topic has come up, but I can’t help to feel a bit of disappointed that he’s bringing it up like this rather than just asking the question that he knows that I’ll say yes to. He has to know, right?

My cheeks feel hot and I swallow hard, then take a sip of tea before leaning forward to set the cup on the table.

“Signing those divorce papers was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do,” I tell him, and then hold up a hand before he can say anything. “I understand why it had to be done. I’m not saying we shouldn’t have. I just—“

I take a steadying breath and twist a little, bringing one leg up onto the sofa so I can face him. “I guess I just thought that after everything, it wouldn’t really be fair of me to ask you. It’d be too much.”

[latermaybe]

"It wasn't easy for me, either," I reminded him, swallowing down the urge to explain myself further. He'd heard it all before, and the last thing he needed was another lecture from me.

"It's difficult not to feel like I'm living in someone else's shadow. How I ask, when I ask, if I ask... it's all being compared to what came before. And I'm not saying that's your fault. It's not. You're not doing anything, it's... It's me. It's him, if that makes sense. That other version of me."

[speakordie]

I never thought it was easy for him, but I’m sure he knows that. It was hard for both of us, maybe in different ways, but it was torture. Once I was away from him that day, I cried and cried until I couldn’t breathe and all I wanted was him.

But it was the right thing to do, I think. Like my mother snipping withered branches from her peach trees, cutting out rot so something new and healthy could grow. And it’s done just that.

My eyes well up as Oliver speaks but I do my best to maintain my composure, lower lip wobbling slightly as I reach out to put my hand on his shoulder.

“I— I thought I was doing the right thing. I’ve tried so hard to do the right thing but how could I possibly know—“ I cut myself off and take a breath, closing my eyes for a moment while squeezing his knee.

“I didn’t think about it like that,” I admit, biting my lip as I stare at him. “Whenever I thought about asking, and I have, I would worry that you’d feel pressured, or like you’d have to say yes to make me happy, and I’d always wonder. I worry about a lot of things, Oliver, but I never worry about you being him, because you already are. And he was you.”

[latermaybe]

"I know. I know you have, bello You have no idea how much it means to me, that you've tried so hard," I assured him, my hand covering his, our fingers lacing together.

"I don't know that there is a right thing or a wrong thing. There's so much that you've experienced that I've missed out on, but that doesn't give you an advantage. I used to worry that it did, but I know that it doesn't."

[speakordie]

I think I may have tried harder at this than anything else in my life, even playing the piano. I tried not to influence him too much, but also tried to introduce him to things that I knew he would like. I tried not to go too far one way or the other, tried to not keep things from him but also not overwhelm him. There was no end to my trying but it’s okay because Oliver is here, and he’s worth all of it.

“I really tried not to use it,” I tell him, squeezing hard at his hand and then sniffling delicately, giving him a watery chuckle. “Sometimes we’d have the same fights, but I was never quite sure they’d end the same. There were so many different choices you could have made and I didn’t want to take it for granted. I didn’t assume you’d always go the same way.”

I shuffle a bit closer to him, reaching up with my other hand to touch my fingertips to his chin. “You still surprise me all the time, pesca.”

[latermaybe]

Huffing a soft, mirthless laugh, I said, "At least you haven't gotten bored of me."

Looking down at our hands, I smiled sadly, rubbing at the empty place on his ring finger.

"We have a path laid out for us. Not only by this place, but by a future that I think we can safely assume we share, in some way. I've only ever made myself unhappy, in trying to fight it. And I know that sounds like resignation, but it isn't. It's acceptance. Of you, but of myself, even more so. You've always been so much better at allowing yourself to be. I'm still..."

I gestured vaguely.

[speakordie]

“I could never find you boring. You ensnared me from the first moment I saw you,” I assure him with a small smile. “And every first time after that.”

Oliver touches my ring finger, the place where a tan line seemed to stubbornly linger for so long, and my chin wobbles so hard that I have to bite my lip to stop it. I keep it between my teeth and stare at him as he speaks, nodding along as I feel tears spring to my eyes. My brows knit for a moment because he makes it sound so unescapable, like something he’ll never stop running from. But then, because he knows me, he soothes my worry. Some of it, anyway.

“There’s a lot of room being accepting something and celebrating it,” I say after a moment, giving him an understanding smile. A tear spills down my cheek and I quickly wipe it away, sniffling as I shuffle closer to you. “I wish you could love yourself as much as I love you. See yourself through my eyes, if even for just a moment.”

[latermaybe]

"I do respect you enough to trust your judgement," I assured him, managing a watery smile and tipping our heads together, my nose brushing his cheek. "And you've chosen me twice." Wryly, I added, "That we know of."

The possibility that this might've happened before, without our knowledge, was somehow both frightening and comforting. No matter what, we would always end up here, one way or another.

"The proposal, the wedding. They're daunting. But being married to you? That's all I want. I want a life, our life. I want kids, and I want them to be yours. Making those plans, when it was all ripped away from us, feels so foolish, but I think we need to be. We need to be foolish. There's nothing else to do."

[speakordie]

“Oh, don’t go there,” I say when he brings up the possibility of there being more times that neither of us remember, but it’s mostly teasing. When he starts to speak, I pull back enough to watch his face, staring into his crystalline blue eyes made even brighter by the threat of tears. He’s so beautiful that it’s hard to believe that he’s even real, but he is. And he’s mine.

“I want those things, too,” I assure him, nodding along and reaching up to touch his cheek, fingers carding through the soft hair at his temple. “You’re right, Oliver. We can try to live safely or we can live in defiance of our fears.”

My thumb touches the soft corner of his mouth, trailing along his bottom lip, and I give him a shaky smile and meet his eye. “I know how hard it is to marry you and lose you, but I still want to do it again. I want whatever you’ll give me, Oliver, as long as you want it, too.”

[latermaybe]

"I don't want you to settle just for what I can give you, Elio. You can have whatever you want of me. You already have it," I pointed out, turning to press my lips to the palm of his hand.

Staying there for a long moment, my lips against his skin, I let my eyes close, stilling the last of my disquiet and uncertainty. I stood abruptly and disappeared into the bedroom. A few moments later, I returned, a ring box in hand.

"I hope I'm not denying you a grand, romantic gesture," I said, sliding to my knees in front of him. It was a ring I'd bought for him over a year ago, with the intention that I might give it to him as a Hanukkah gift, only to realize that wasn't what it was for. It was a delicate platinum band, one I'd briefly worried might be too feminine, with small, inset diamonds set at random, almost like stars. It would sit perfectly alongside another band— a wedding band.

[speakordie]

“I’ll take all of it, then.” His eyes close and I stay quiet, watching him as his holds his lips against the sensitive skin of my palm. He seems to be thinking so I give him time to do so, only to blink in confusion and furrow my brow as he suddenly stands and walks into our bedroom. I wonder if I should follow him or leave him be, but I don’t have time to make a decision before he’s returning with an unmistakable velvet box.

He sinks to his knees in front of me and my pulse rockets, eyes widening as I lift a hand to cover my mouth. The ring is gorgeous, delicate and sparkling, but as much as I like pretty things, I’d wear a piece of twine if it meant that I got to have him.

His words make me chuckle and I shake my head as I drop my hand from my mouth, eyes brimmed with tears as I look from the ring to his face.

“You just have to ask the question,” I tell him as I shift forward until I’m sitting on the edge of the sofa, reaching out to touch the side of his face. “Ask me so I can answer you.”

[speakordie]

“I’ll take all of it, then.” His eyes close and I stay quiet, watching him as his holds his lips against the sensitive skin of my palm. He seems to be thinking so I give him time to do so, only to blink in confusion and furrow my brow as he suddenly stands and walks into our bedroom. I wonder if I should follow him or leave him be, but I don’t have time to make a decision before he’s returning with an unmistakable velvet box.

He sinks to his knees in front of me and my pulse rockets, eyes widening as I lift a hand to cover my mouth. The ring is gorgeous, delicate and sparkling, but as much as I like pretty things, I’d wear a piece of twine if it meant that I got to have him.

His words make me chuckle and I shake my head as I drop my hand from my mouth, eyes brimmed with tears as I look from the ring to his face.

“You just have to ask the question, pesca,” I tell him as I shift forward until I’m sitting on the edge of the sofa, reaching out to touch the side of his face. “Ask me so I can answer you.”

[latermaybe]

"Marry me," I said, thumbing the ring out of the box and taking his hand in mine. "Be what you already are. My husband, like I'm yours."

He told me to ask him the question, but instead, it was a declaration. An acceptance. A celebration.

[speakordie]

More and more in recent months, I’ve been thinking about marriage and how badly I want it, but I didn’t realize just how much until Oliver says the words and I exhale in a rush of euphoric relief. It’s like a weight has been lifted and words fail me for a moment, mouth working uselessly before I nod vigorously at him.

“Yes,” I finally say, blinking away a set of tears as I watch him slide the ring onto my finger. Oliver may have been worried about me making comparisons but I don’t, not even a little. It’s a moment that feels brand new, and as soon as the ring is on my finger, I suddenly surge forward and throw my arms around him, tackling him excitedly to the floor. “Yes, obviously.”

[latermaybe]

With a rush of relieved laughter, I caught him in my arms, the two of us collapsing on the floor in a tangle. "Careful," I warned, after nearly knocking my head on the coffee table and knowing his pointy elbows were always at risk of getting bumped on something or other.

My hand in his hair, I kissed his face, whatever bit of it I could find. His cheek, his eyelid, the bridge of his nose. "I thought you might," I teased lightly, my lips against his ear and a wide, nearly shell-shocked grin on my face.

[speakordie]

“Right. Can’t break it before I buy it,” I tease, reaching up to cradle the back of his head as we settle together on the floor. He covers my face with kisses and I blink away another set of tears before catching his mouth in a slow, lingering kiss.

“I’d marry you today,” I say between kisses, feeling nearly overwhelmed by my happiness. I wasn’t expecting this today, but like I said— Oliver still finds ways to surprise me after all this time. “I’ll marry you however you want.”

[latermaybe]

"It's after five, I think we might have a little trouble getting anyone to officiate today," I pointed out with a chuckle, my hand slipping through his hair.

"We can get our marriage license this week," I suggested, hopeful and a little hesitant. "Maybe ask Jamie to come with us? I want it to be for the two of us. The party we plan afterward can be as extravagant as you like. Would you be okay with that?"

[speakordie]

It’s different than last time in a lot of ways, but I like that. I like his idea, too. A big reception would be nice but I like the idea of the ceremony being just the two of us.

“I am definitely okay with that,” I assure him, smiling serenely as his fingers drag back my hair. Oliver looks happy, and that means the world to me. I want so badly for him to be happy. “Ceremony for us, and party after. I want to show off my husband.”

[latermaybe]

A part of me had been afraid of that word. Of what it might feel like to be a husband. That it might ultimately be ill-fitting, as so many of the roles I put on ultimately were. But it felt right. It felt like something I already knew to be true.

"I'm the one who gets to show off," I teased, tucking his hair behind his ear, my hands gently framing his face. "You are famous, after all."

[speakordie]

“Oh, shut up,” I reply with a laugh, grinning ear to ear down at him as I settle down on top of him, my ass resting comfortably in the cradle of his thighs.

“You’re my muse. That music wouldn’t exist without you,” I tell him. I would have wound up as a musician whether or not I met him, I’m sure, but I wouldn’t be making music like I’m making now. I know that much. “I’ll have to write us a song for the wedding.”

[latermaybe]

"The music existed before I cam along, Elio," I reminded him, wanting him to believe in his own talents, his own inspiration, without whatever spark I ignited in him. Still, it was a nice thought, and I wasn't above taking just a little credit.

"Something disgustingly romantic?" I teased, a hand resting on his hip and gently kneading the wiry muscle there. "You should. You can serenade me. We'll make all the guests uncomfortable."

[speakordie]

“I know it did, but you helped shape what it is now,” I tell him while touching his face, fingertips tracing his cheekbones and his lips, the elegant bridge of nose. “I would have been great, but you made me even better.”

“Oh, terribly romantic.” As he speaks, I pop open the top few buttons of his shirt so I can press my palms to his hairy chest, then up to the sides of his neck and then back down. “Serenade you, ha? Is that what you’d like.”

[latermaybe]

"You can save the serenading for when we send the guests home," I teased, letting out a low, appreciative hum at the warmth of his palm on my skin.

Hands at his hips, I held him close, relishing his familiar weight. "I love you," I said, after a moment. The words seemed a paltry substitute for what I felt. Contentment. Gratitude. Amazement. I lifted a hand to his face, cradling the sharp bone of his jaw in my palm, my thumb brushing gently along the line of his cheekbone. I wished I was an artist. His profile begged to be chiseled in stone.

[speakordie]

“I know you do,” I assure him, letting out a hum of my own as his gentle fingers touch my face. Maybe it sounds cocky, but I don’t mean it that way. Oliver has hidden so much of himself for so much of his life, and pretended to be something he wasn’t.

I know that he isn’t pretending with me. This is who he is, and I know that he loves me. He shows me all the time.

“It’s rude to stare,” I tease, but the smirk on my face makes it clear that I really don’t mind. In fact, I let him look at me for a little longer, and then lean down to press my palms to the floor on either side of his face. Our eyes meet, then cross a bit as I get closer, then close when I kiss him, passionate and lingering.

“I love you, too,” I say against his mouth, nipping gently at his bottom lip.

[latermaybe]

"Was I staring?" I murmured, playfully apologetic. My hands drifted over his thighs, his hips, squeezing his narrow waist gently as I pulled him close and groaning under the onslaught of his kiss.

"This feels familiar," I murmured, when we parted, thinking of the last time we'd ended up frantic and naked in this very spot.