Page 13 of Love Is…

And here’s the most important one. The big THANK YOU. Thank you for loving me. Because even when I act uncertain, and I get scared, I know that you do. I always have. I’ve been so incredibly blessed to have you love me as a best friend. As a brother. A blood brother – I remember that pact, honey, you know I do. And thank you for holding me, and kissing me, and loving me in that way too. It’s never been like this, never ever. How could it have been? You’re my one and only. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. I’m so honored that you let me. That you love me back.

Happy Valentine’s Day to my amazing soulmate. I’ve always been yours.

Love,

Luke

Luke knows he got to the end because his gaze stills and grows unfocused. Because his breathing hitches.

“Always,” Luke whispers, for emphasis.

Carefully, Hal closes the scrapbook and puts it aside. When he turns to Luke, his eyes are bright, and so, so tender. He puts his hands on Luke’s hips and hauls him right up into his lap, so Luke is just a fraction taller, looking down on him, eyelashes almost touching they’re so close.

“Not poetic, huh?” Hal asks, voice full of gravel.

“Nope,” Luke says, against his lips.

Their kisses tonight have been unhurried. Patient and lingering, a promise that they have all the time in the world, hints of what’s to come later.

Now Hal kisses him with overt, desperate hunger, plunges his tongue into his mouth, digs bruises into his hips with his strong fingers. Luke melts and falls into it, lets his mouth be ravished, pleading sounds building in the back of his throat.

As quickly as it started, it stops, Hal’s hands sliding up his chest and easing him back. Their lips part with a suction-cuppop.

“What?” Luke asks, not hiding his irritation. That was some Grade-A kissing and he wants to get back to it.

Hal – to his gratification – looks winded, red-faced, and a little drunk. But he huffs a laugh and says, “Wait just a sec. I got you a present too.”

Luke groans. Whatever Hal got him will be much nicer than the photo album. “I thought the pizza and fort were my gift.”

Hal grins, looking pleased with himself underneath his makeout flush. “Nope. Just the romantic setting.”

“Uh-huh.”

Hal hooks one arm around Luke’s waist, holding him on his lap, and with the other reaches beneath the pillows for something. He comes out with…

A ring box.

Luke’s heart, already at a run, launches up his throat. His lungs seize. Excitement and joy present themselves as nerves, rattling through his bloodstream like too much coffee. What he says, voice a croak, is, “You’re not really doing this on Valentine’s Day. Even you aren’t that cheesy.”

Hal’s answer is the kind of smile Luke used to dream about. The bone-melting, toe-curling kind of smile that ought to be illegal. He thumbs open the box and reveals two simple silver bands. White gold, or platinum. One is larger – that one’s Hal’s.

“What do you say?” he asks. “Let’s do this.”

Luke kisses him until he’s forced to drop the box.

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