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Nino knit his eyebrows close, an unsightly frown picking at the corners of his very chapped lips. He’d been thinking a lot lately, and there was one painful question on his mind that pestered and bugged him like nothing ever had before. Honestly, he’d been on the train of thought for a long time, he couldn’t come up with the answer on his own. He knows he should be able to, and it’s kind of a stupid question, but he can’t wait much longer. It’s eating at his soul not knowing.
He pauses his troubling series of ideas to peer up at the alluring thief that has recently, and unknowingly, stolen his precious sleep. Her glasses perched precariously on the very tip of her nose, slipping as she dutifully engrosses herself deeper in her writing. The tip of her tongue peeks out from its hiding place shyly, accentuating her dedicated focus. He loves many things about Alya, little things, the habits only he could ever witness, like how she preferred to brush her teeth with her left hand, or her unique loyalty to orange legal pads when preplanning a story. But Nino also loves the bigger picture, he loves her, he loves their current relationship, and he loves the prospect of the future, what could come for them. Only one thing stands in his way, one question, one answer, so, two things, he supposes.
With a small sigh, he returns to his own work, attempting to edit and cut scenes with little success. The question still plagues Nino’s mind. (His work too, this scene is due in a week.) Instead he opens his “side” project, he isn’t getting any pay for it, to him though, this will be the main production. He began it last year, when marriage first crossed his mind. It was his masterpiece, a collection of memories: pictures, videos, songs, conversations, objects, everything he and Alya had shared in the last ten years or so. For the last scene, he hopes to live feed a camera (manned by Adrien) of him proposing to Alya. It’s nearly complete. One question, one answer, and he will be her’s forever. He closes the program and shuts the laptop down with a huff, setting it aside. Nino knows he should ask her, but he’s scared of what she’ll say, he’s scared that he won’t be good enough, that she’ll leave him behind as a distant memory of some guy from lycée. He’s worrying for no reason, he’s sure of it, his friends are sure of it, but he can’t help it. In any other situation where a couple is happily dating for ten years, marriage can be a near-guarantee. But Nino, he has competition for her heart.
At this point, all his melodramatic noises have attracted Alya’s attention. She pushes her glasses back up her nose, and carefully lays her laptop back on its designated desk space. Turning to her boyfriend, she can’t help but giggle a little, he’s collapsed on the beat-up La-Z-Boy in a matching plaid pajama set and his favorite pink slippers, the pout on his face could rival her younger sisters’ when grounded. She rises from her comfy office chair and wanders over to him, wedging herself onto the sofa next to his warmth.
“Okay, Bubbles, spill. What’s on your mind?” she stares directly at his face, aiming to get his full attention. He does not comply, and continues to avoid her gaze, however much it burns him to do so. He wants to tell her, he wants to get down on one knee and confess his love to her for all the world to hear. But he can’t, not yet. She scowls a bit at his negligence, and manages to tuck herself under an arm and around a leg. She knows it’s useless to press when he’s like this, so she does her best to show her support. She relaxes into him, and wills him to mimic her actions, to open up to her and trust her with whatever is on his mind. Instead he stiffens and flinches away. That was not a normality when he’s down, usually her presence alone was enough to help soothe him, if but a little. Was it something she did? Was it something she said? Taking the hint, she untangled herself from his side, opting to sit close but not touching instead, her legs tucked under her in a butterfly-like shape.
After a moment or two, she realized he wasn’t going to break this silence. Her question would remain rhetorical, at least for the time being. They’d been through hell and back together, when he’s ready to talk, he’ll say what’s on his mind. The reporter in her did not like this decision, but she knew he needed some space to figure things out. With a fallen face, she whispers, “when you’re ready to talk, I’ll be in bed, kay?” Her eyes scan behind her glasses, searching for some sort of affirmation, some sign that he heard her, there is none. Solemnly, she sticks to her words, and plods to the bedroom.
Nino feels nothing short of horrible. He stiffs his girlfriend. He ignores her offer of support. Gosh, his odds are looking worse and worse on this proposal business, but he’s still nervous as to what she’ll say. She probably thinks his moping is all her fault at this point, and to be fair, it mostly is, but for entirely different reasons than what her over-analytical brain is probably thinking. He tried to respond to her, he did, but his body wasn’t acting, wasn’t moving of his accord. He tried to take her hand, to reach for her, to hold her, but his limbs protested with a silent anger. Not at her, no their anger was all directed towards him, his cowardice, his reluctance. He needs to comfort her, to let her know he’s okay, it’s okay, they’re still okay.
He gets up stiffly, and small, rigid steps take him back to their bedroom. She seems to be asleep, her hair splayed out in a fiery web over her pillow, her body facing opposite of his side. Damn, he screwed this one up good. Shuffling to his side of the bed, he kicks off his slippers, the ones she bought for him and accidentally washed in a red load, his favorite, pink, fluffy slippers, and crawls in beside her. He settles in behind her, his head nuzzled into her neck, arms clung protectively around her waist. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, just lower than a whisper, “I’m sorry I’m a coward. I’m sorry I’m taking so long. I’m sorry I’m scared. You can’t possibly realize how much I love you. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Tears leak from the corner of his eyes, she can feel them soaking through her shirt and running down her chest. He’s shaking profusely. She turns over to face him. Frightened by her sudden movement, he jumps a little. “I thought you were asleep,” he sniffles.
She reaches for his face, caressing his cheek, rubbing slow soothing circles over his unshaven stubble. “Honey, how could I sleep knowing you weren’t feeling well? I’m so sorry I made you feel this way.” She sits up a bit, and he follows suit, uncomfortable with himself. “Now, what’s all this apologizing about? You haven’t done anything wrong.”
He worries his lip a little bit, fidgeting with her hand. “I haven’t been completely honest, babe. And I know you hate lying, I never lied, I just haven’t told you everything that’s been on my mind lately, and I know it’s okay not to tell you things, but this one involves you and so I really just wanted to make sure it was the right time and-“
She cuts him off. “You’re rambling hon, I don’t expect you to tell me everything, I just want to help you when you’re feeling troubled. You said it was about me, was it something I did?” It was her turn to be worried again, as his words went on his shivering got worse. Whatever she did must’ve really shaken him. She feels terrible. He trembles silently for a bit, curling himself up against her chest, she hugs him tightly, reassuring that it’s okay, she’s sorry, and things will be okay.
He inhales slowly, regaining his composure. Now is the time, he thinks. It has to be now. “You are totally fine Als, you’re fantastic. I just feel like I’m not enough for you.” She opens her mouth to protest, but this time he talks through her. “I want to marry you, Alya. We’ve been together for ten years. We’ve been living together for seven. It’s the natural step.” His tears have ebbed now, and he sits up straighter. “No, actually, before I continue I want to be able to see you.” He reaches over her and turns on the ugly orange fuzzball lamp. He hates the thing, but she let him keep the turtle nightlight, so he can’t complain. The glow from the lamp basked her in a sea of orange, red and yellow hues, amplifying her radiance (even with bedhead and a tear-soaked night shirt). Her eyes had gotten watery, a small smile gracing her face. “I love you, Alya, but before I can ask you to marry me properly, you have to answer this question for me, because quite honestly, I’m feeling like my position in your life is unstable and that’s why I’ve been so moody and distant and- sorry, I’m off on a tangent again.” He pauses, recollecting his thoughts and inhaling deeply. “I have to know.” Looking her directly in her amber eyes, he says “If you had to choose one: me, or your laptop. Which would it be?”
Her face falls for a second in disbelief before she collapses in a fit of unrestrained laughter, “That’s what you were so worried about?! Nino, you can’t be serious!” He makes a grunting noise, which sobers her just enough to see his face. He is dead serious and he’s having a really hard time trying to decipher why this is such a laughing matter. Her laughing calms to gentle giggles, and she draws him in for a soft kiss. “You, of course I’m going to pick you! I can back up my data, there are thousands of laptops out there, but there is only one fantastic boyfriend who could possibly consider I wouldn’t marry him because I’d rather have my laptop.”
He seems satisfied with this answer and a grin plasters over his face. He laughs, “Yeah, that was pretty stupid of me, huh? Wait though, does that mean you’d be willing to marry me?” No longer bewildered by the slow uptake, she just shakes her head, laughs again, and gives him a slow sweet kiss. “I’m guessing that’s a yes.” He says, relieved. “Just, let me propose properly, okay? Like, don’t get me wrong I’m thrilled that this is all out in the clear, but I have this thing and I want to make sure I do it right.”
“Bubbles, I don’t care if it’s here or in some fancy restaurant or anything, all that matters to me is that we’re together… and that I get bragging rights.” She tucks herself back in at his side, lacing her fingers through his. She sees his eyes starting to droop, happy but exhausted. “For now, let’s just get some sleep, okay?”
Nino switches off the lamp and pulls himself deeper under the blankets, enjoying the comforting warmth of his almost-fiancée’s silky skin. He places one final kiss on her temple and whispers “Goodnight.”