Work Text:
Tim turns a page in the scrapbook filled with pictures of him and John. He smiles at the first one he sees near the last of the full pages, before the rest of the empty ones; 2013, the two of them sitting next to each other during their honeymoon in Italy, looking at the camera. John beaming and leaning into Tim, whose arms are wrapped around his waist. It’s beautiful.
John trails his fingers along the bottom of the photograph. “That was a great trip. I’m still pretty surprised that we could legally get married after 37 years. Too bad we had to go to fucking America to do it.”
Tim holds his husband’s hand. He chuckles before pressing his lips gently into John’s graying hair. “It was worth it, though. Fucking worth it.” He hesitates and grins. “I want to read it again. Since it’s the 40th anniversary of me writing it.” He feels John nod under his chin and closes the scrapbook to go back to the second page, where a letter that has faded with age is glued on the paper. Tim shifts so John is more settled between his legs and leaning comfortably back into his chest. Tim rests his head on John’s shoulder and reads out loud.
“Dear John,
It's 1AM and I can't sleep. I think I went too far too soon
when I reached into your daks. All I can say is I'm sorry. I don't
want to pressure you to have sex. I love you, and if all we ever
do is hug, that is enough for me.
Love, Tim.”
John nuzzles the side of his head closer to Tim’s. “I’m glad I stole it from my Dad. It’s the best letter anyone’s ever written.”
Tim turns his body to face John, and holds his partner’s cheek before going in to kiss him.
Tim wakes as his arm lands on the empty spot beside him where he had felt John just seconds earlier. His heart sinks and his eyes start to water as he stares up at the ceiling of the hospital, the sounds of machines and people walking up and down the corridor outside of his room amplified by the silence next to him.
And Tim cries.
John isn’t there.