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“I can’t promise you forever,” Andrew says softly. “You’re immortal, and I… I’m not.”
“I know.” Lorenzo’s voice is a whisper.
“But I can promise you this.” Andrew looks up at him, still on one knee. “I can promise you my forever.”
Lorenzo is blinking back his tears, and holds out his hand. Andrew takes the ring out of the box and reaches for Lorenzo’s hand. The ring fits as if it belongs there. Andrew kisses the ring after he slips it on, and looks up.
Then he gets up, and they embrace, and they kiss, and Lorenzo starts the music with a wave of his hand. Soft piano notes sound through the room. It’s their song, and they dance, and they kiss, and they make love, the moon and stars the only witnesses to their promise of undying love.
They get married on a beautiful spring day in Spain. The almond trees are flowering and sweeten the air with their fragrance. This time their friends and their family are there, witnessing as they promise each other love and faithfulness and support, and as much of forever as the angels will grant them.
“You don’t have to stay,” Andrew says, avoiding Lorenzo’s eyes. “I’m not who I was. I know how I look.”
“I know you mean it, but I also know why, and I won’t take offence,” Lorenzo replies gently, brushing a white strand of hair from Andrew’s forehead. “You think you are ugly. But you are not. And I won’t leave.” He drops a kiss onto Andrew’s temple. “I promised.”
“Then promise me something else.” Andrew looks at him, blue eyes clear.
“Anything.”
“Promise me that you will embrace life again one day.”
Lorenzo swallows. “Andrew... without you?”
“You knew, we both knew, have always known this isn’t forever. It can’t be.”
“I know,” Lorenzo replies. “But I can’t just forget you and move on.”
“And I’m not asking you to. But promise me that one day, you will take off that ring, and embrace life again.”
Lorenzo grits his teeth, in silent grief. Andrew promised his forever, but now there isn’t much left of it.
“Please, promise me.”
He can’t do anything else. “I promise,” he says softly.
“Maybe I can come back to you.” Andrew locks eyes with him, but his breathing is shallow and weak.
“How would you?” Lorenzo holds his hand, his thumb caressing dry and wrinkled skin.
“I don’t know.” A shaky breath. “I find a way. I promise.”
Lorenzo doesn’t know what to reply. He closes his eyes, presses the hand against his cheek.
“I promise,” Andrew whispers again, hardly audible. He closes his eyes.
“Sleep well,” Lorenzo whispers.
The smile stays on Andrew’s lips.
It’s been thirty years, and Lorenzo takes off the ring not because he wants to, but because he promised he would. He looks at the pale, slight indentation the ring has left on his finger after all those years, the engraving worn to illegibility.
It takes him another few years before he goes out for a drink, for the first time in all those years. Not because he particularly feels like it. Because he promised he would try.
He couldn’t promise he would be successful.
He gets up, is about to leave, and collides with a wall of muscle who spills a drink all over his Versace suit.
“Oh my god!”
Lorenzo looks up, and his heart stops dead for a moment.
The tall, blonde man looks at him in horror. “I am so sorry! Oh my god, I can get you a taxi, and... Oh my god, I’ll have that dry-cleaned and everything. I give you my number so you can send me the bill!” He’s frantic.
But Lorenzo can only stare.
Eventually the stranger realises Lorenzo’s lack of reaction and looks at his face for the first time. He frowns.
“Do I know you?”
“Maybe,” is all Lorenzo can say.
The handsome stranger with that hauntingly familiar face looks at him, the frown deepening. “I know that sounds crazy, but I think I dreamed of your face once,” he whispers.
“I dreamt of your face all the time during the last three decades,” Lorenzo whispers back.
And then a light appears in the stranger’s eyes, they shine in recognition, and fill with tears. “Lorenzo...”
Lorenzo tries to smile, and fails. And the only thing saving him from collapsing and landing on his knees are strong arms that close around him, pulling him against a chest solid with muscle.
“You came back,” Lorenzo whispers against the skin of his neck.
“Of course I did,” Andrew whispers into his hair. “I promised.”