David paused to consider my question. He bit his lip. On the floor above ours, our neighbors were making a ruckus again, but it was faint, especially when I shut my eyes to concentrate on the sounds of David’s breaths, that fell across my skin.

I deepened our embrace. We both stopped dancing. “I think I want to be with you,” David told me.

And I raised a brow. I laughed once more. This is silly, I thought. What is he talking about? “You’re already with me, David.”

“That’s—” He sighed. His shoulders deflated. I assumed David would pull away by now, however, it was quite the opposite. He held me, tighter than before and any other times in our lives, until I was intoxicated by his scent, and my world had been reduced to feeling every single bouts of his tender touches; the way he would brush my jaw with his mouth, every now and then. “I meant, that if you asked me to be your husband, I would say yes,” he said.

I froze. “Wow! It sounds a bit like you’re asking me to marry you!” I don’t know why it sounded like I jested when I told him this. David was, obviously, not joking.

The playlist he had put on ended shortly after I asked him this question.

I heard him gulp. “Would that…” David’s heart was pounding in his chest; those beats, reverberated against me. It made me smile. It was a relief to know I could still make him nervous, because every so often, he would have the very same effect on my mind, too. “Would that be bad?” My lover’s voice was a frail thing. His tone evoked dark urges in me. I wanted to take him to bed again. Ravish him until he would forget his own name—lose himself in the pleasure of being fucked by my cock. I would have told him, then, as he whimpered under my touch, that it was okay; I understood, what he had meant. He had no need, to be this nervous.

I would have done it all.

But now, was not the time for that.

Would that be bad? David’s question echoed through my mind.

I had never thought of marriage. It disgusted me, to be someone’s wife. Yet, being David’s husband? My breaths shook as warmth filled my chest. I held onto David’s shoulders. Started crying. Eyes dampened by everything that I felt, I couldn’t grasp enough bravery from within myself to utter another word. I could only tremble. Whimper. Then, eventually, call him, “My heart.” It was quite an outdated surname, I know, however, there was no other way to describe the emotions he had awoken within me in this very moment. Because it was true, he was my heart—the pulse in my veins would beat for him, whenever he was near, and I am sure, that the sentiment was a shared one, for David trapped my face between his palms, thumbed at my jaw. He kissed me, hard. Did not stop, kissing me, splitting my teeth open with his tongue; moaning, into my mouth; until we were both a mess. Two chuckling idiots that likely yearned to say, I do, I would take your hand in marriage, any day, yet, we were too afraid to even utter the mere idea aloud.

At least, I was.

And I realized, after all was said and done: David, to me, is more than just a mere lover. He is a good friend. A life partner. Someone I want to share every waking moment of my existence with—the good, and the bad. Although I have not pondered on the matter long enough before, friend, doesn’t this mean, that we could make for great husbands together, after all?

David reached for his phone again. “I think we missed the last song,” he told me, nonchalantly, as if nothing had ever happened—as if we had not just bared our souls to one another.

I nodded against him. “Yes, that is…” My tears were long dried by now. “Quite possible,” I added.

Friend, we took our time with that last dance. By the end of our waltz, David and I found ourselves laying on the carpet, holding hands, and staring up to the ceiling, as if it was the night sky. “It was a good day,” he told me.

And I could only agree.

We listened to the neighbors throwing their party, then exchanged stories of what we had been up to during these past few months.

David informed me of his new writing habits. I have already told him this, but I will write it down here, too: I am so proud of the wonderful man he has grown into.

David has always been kind and caring, however… I don’t think he realizes how hard he’s worked. He speaks about catching up on an entire year’s worth of university work in less than a few months as if it is nothing.

He asks me, sometimes, what he has done to deserve me.

Yet, he is the one who is amazing here.

I love him.

I always will, no matter what. I do not think he is a person that I will ever be able to forget. He has done too much for me, to ever become a stranger. I do not know what the future holds. I would like to think, that we will still be together in ten, twenty—fifty years. But if we are not, in either case, I will remember him. Always. And forever. David is too special, and we have gone through too much together, for him to become nothing to me.

On another note, friend: I am reassured. I know being wed ultimately means nothing; even so, to think that David would potentially want to take such a step in our relationship… to think, that he figured out the way to articulate what I have felt over these past few months: I am grateful, that even during the worst of times, he would rather work on us as a couple, than leave us be.

…Friend… Gods, now that I am noting all this down, I cannot help but wonder… are we engaged? I am not quite sure—perhaps, we are?

…I must ask David sometime soon.

I got… slightly emotional in this entry, my apologies for this. Next time, I must absolutely tell you about that wonderful prosthetic and how right it felt once it was on me! (Or, well… in me, I suppose.)

Ahem. Excuse me once more for that tangent. And thank you for listening. As always, I hope you are well, friend.

Yours truly, and with love,

Alexander