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"If only I was ten years younger...!"
The phrase echoed in Phoenix's head, over and over. He couldn't stop lying to himself, about why he got so... Tense when Larry told him the "news". Tense was a word to use when he refused to call it jealousy, but the relief he felt when he found out it was fake? It burned into his brain.
You can't keep doing this to yourself, Nick.
He decided, now that Larry was back, he would spend more time with him. Reconnect. Get back to where they were. Maybe even further than where they had been. He hated how much he wanted it to be further.
Of all the people to want to spend his life with, why him?
The next few years were spent getting back into that rhythm, and every time Larry had to get on another plane for his (shockingly successful) job, Phoenix feared that he'd slip from his fingers again.
The next time Larry came home, tired and jetlagged, Phoenix was ready. He'd made a nice meal (that Larry initially refused because the plane ride had made him sick), lit some candles (that apparently Larry had grown allergic to without realizing), and Phoenix panicked when Larry decided he was just gonna go to bed.
He grabbed Larry's shoulder to halt him and the artist looked at him groggily until Phoenix knelt down.
"I know this is a bad time," he admitted. "But I figured, the sooner the better."
Larry's eyes shot open at the sight of the box, pulled open to reveal a gold band with an embedded citrine.
"Please, marry me," Phoenix proposed.
And suddenly, the hands of time had turned back for old Laurice Deauxnim. He sobbed, nodding furiously and pulling Phoenix into an embrace. The future was bright.