Giggles. The jingling sound of fingers fumbling with keys and the soft click of a door opened. Two shadows stumbled into the house with playful shoves. The lights were off.
“Hey Arthur. Follow me?”
You grabbed my hand that was still holding the keys with the rare strength of youth for a man who downed 7 shots of whiskey just two hours ago. Alcohol still strong in my veins, I grinned, letting myself be dragged along like a doll. I followed you toward the stairs, feet almost tripped over some miscellaneous things on the floor we forgot to put away, using the other hand to grab the banister to steady my wobbly legs up to the last steps when I finally realized my hands wasn’t holding the keys anymore.
Not letting me have the time to worry, you led me through the hallway, into the bedroom and opened the glass door, pulled me out to the balcony and held me in your arms. Late night breeze tickled my skin, moonlight as warm and smooth as sweet butter, the moon a halo enveloping you in my eyes.
Alfred. The warmth of your chest, the woody scent of cedar in your breath and the corner of your mouth that always drawn into a silly smile made me think, Alfred, someday my immense love for you might just flow out of this tiny body, Alfred, someday if you don't love me anymore, I might just die. You let go of me and for a moment I was scared, but your voice soothed my drunken mind.
"Oh Arthur, I love you. Do you even know how much I love you?" Your voice had always been unique, loud and booming even when whispering. I felt guilty looking up to your adoring eyes. I tried to, yet I'm just certain the moment you say it, and that blissful assurance fades away until all that’s left is doubt. But you took my trembling hand and I knew I was just forgiven, because such gentle gaze, such pure smile cannot be given to any filthy person. "Arthur," you continued, "more than anyone else, I know that you need to be loved, you have gone through so much, lost so much, and I cannot be more honored to be a part of your life."
You stopped, looking straight at me. The shade of blue I had learnt to love more than any color sparkling in the moonlight not unlike the surface of a lake on summer nights, glossy and lucent. The streetlights below had long dimmed out. "Arthur," you called my name as if it was a prayer, "I want to make you happy." You took out of your pocket the velvet box that I later wondered why I could not see the whole evening, getting down on one knee. "I want to make you happy for the rest of my life, if you allow me to."
Curtains fluttering in the wind. Moonlight glistened on the silver band. My legs felt weak all over. You smiled.
"So Arthur, will you let me?"