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“TK, no! Don’t touch that!”
TK looks over at Carlos, hand frozen mid-air above the multitude of paper scattered across the dining room table. In the center sits a binder set flat against the wood and opened to a page about flowers. It’s covered in various Post-Its notes: yellow detailing numbers of local florists, pink with the type of flower and its meaning, and orange covering their own preferences as discussed.
Carlos is aware that it looks a little chaotic, but to him, it’s organized chaos.
He’s usually very neat when he works. His handwriting is joined up and has been since he wrote his first essay in high school, he always uses a ruler to underline the title, and every piece of paper he’s ever written on has the date somewhere on it. In his experience, it’s the little things that make his life easier. Being able to stay organized like that transferred over from school into the academy, then eventually into his work, both as a patrol officer and wannabe detective—not just yet, but somewhere down the line, he’s sure that is where his career will take him.
Now, though, his organization has transferred over into wedding planning. He’s got a binder, Post-Its and pens in every color possible, and each color has its own meaning. Everything has its place, and it all makes sense to him, but at this point, he’s pretty sure TK wouldn’t have a clue.
Which is probably why he’s looking a little shocked at the sight of their dining room table right now.
“Um, babe,” he starts cautiously, dropping his hand to his side. “What…” He shakes his head. “Just what?”
Carlos laughs. He finishes chopping the final carrot for dinner, sliding it to the side of the board in a neat pile. Each diced vegetable has its own section, and he’s very happy at how organized it looks, ready to go later tonight when they’re ready to eat.
Wiping the knife clean, he sets it back into its rightful place in the knife block, puts the chopping board into the refrigerator and heads over to TK. He wraps his arms around him from behind, his head resting on his shoulder, and it’s his favorite place to be.
“Hi,” he murmurs.
“Hi,” TK replies. He brings his hand up again, letting his fingers hover over one of the orange Post-Its. “Blue hydrangeas and white baby’s breath,” he reads softly, “for Gwyn.”
Carlos holds his breath as he waits for a response.
Over TK’s shoulder, he can see the note he’s reading from. It’s one of the messier ones in his opinion, his handwriting more scratchy than usual and the date in the top right corner not neatly underlined, but it’s the most important note on this page. He’d written it in the dark a few nights ago whilst TK was in the bathroom getting ready for bed. They’d been at his parents’ house for dinner, one of many since the engagement, and naturally, the conversation turned to wedding planning. TK had started talking about his mom and the flowers she always said she would’ve loved to have at her wedding if one were to happen despite also saying she never wanted to get married again. He’d looked so wistful when he spoke about it, like he was longing for her approval of their wedding, and that was when Carlos came up with the idea. He might not be able to give TK his mom back, but he can give him little reminders of her and how happy she’d be for him.
But he’d forgotten to mention it to TK, and now he must admit he’s a little nervous about his fiancé’s reaction.
“Carlos, did you…”
He wants to make a comment about TK’s half-questions this evening in an attempt to lighten the mood, but he doesn’t. And he doesn’t need to see TK’s face either to know there’s a furrow on his brow as he contemplates the words written in front of him.
Knowing not to push and wanting a response makes the next few moments anxiety-inducing for Carlos, but he just holds onto TK and presses a gentle kiss to his neck as he tries to hold onto the tethers of his patience.
“You remembered,” is the first reply he gets, the words whispered into the quiet surrounding them.
“Of course.”
Sometimes it feels like he could remember everything TK has ever said and done. Realistically, he knows that’s impossible, but his words seem to stick in Carlos’ head. The good, the bad, the nonsensical. Often, he finds himself noting down the most ridiculous of phrases on the notes app of his phone just because TK said it and it made him laugh.
He loves those stupid phrases, he really does, but he loves remembering the important things, too.
More recently, TK has been talking more and more about his mom. Carlos thinks that the wedding planning has brought up a lot of buried feelings, things TK didn’t necessarily want to face, but he’s coming to terms with the fact that his mom won’t be at his wedding, and it’s difficult for him. And though Carlos knows he can’t do much other than just be there for his fiancé, he’s hoping a simple gesture like flowers from a precious memory might make the day a little easier.
“And you want to include them in our wedding.”
It’s not a question, but Carlos answers anyway. “I do, if that’s something you’d like.”
Because of course, it’s about what TK wants, too. Carlos may have taken over the physical side of the planning—binders and pens, printing photos from the internet and organizing them on a piece of cardstock like it’s a real-life Pinterest board—but TK is fully involved in every stage. It’s a joint process, one Carlos is enjoying so much more than he expected if he’s honest. It can be stressful at times, but they’re planning their future together; what’s not to love?
TK picks up the Post-It, pulling it off the page. It leaves a gap on the otherwise full page, and Carlos immediately wants to take the note from TK’s hand and put it back in its rightful place, but he holds off.
“Mom always liked you,” TK says quietly, letting out a content huff. “When she first came to stay, she teased me all the time for how much I talked about you. We hadn’t been together long, but she knew how hard I’d fallen, and she was… She was worried.”
Carlos doesn’t say anything, simply holding TK as he speaks in his own time.
“It was different with Dad because he knew you professionally. He got to know Officer Reyes before Carlos, so I think you earned his trust that way, but Mom was trying to protect me. She…” His voice cracks, and he trails off. After a deep breath, he continues on. “Carlos, she’s seen me in places no mother should have to see their son. All she ever wanted to do was protect me. You came into my life after Alex and…”
He doesn’t need TK to continue to know what he’s thinking. They’ve spoken about it a lot, about his addiction and what he went through, how he got out the other side. Carlos knows TK’s mom found him, more than once, in states he can’t remember getting into. She saved his life, and Carlos gets it; of course she was protective over TK.
“I know, babe,” he whispers, rubbing his hand up and down TK’s arm.
He continues, undeterred. “She was worried and protective and… I don’t know, she loved me so much.” He lets out a shaky breath that Carlos can feel in TK’s chest. “But she always liked you. Always.”
“I liked her, too.”
“I know.”
Shaking his head, TK sets down the Post-It again. It’s on an angle, not properly filling the gap it left before, but Carlos doesn’t let it bother him. Instead, he focuses on holding TK, pressing gentle kisses to his skin in the hope that his mere presence can be soothing for his fiancé.
“She would’ve loved to have been there, to see us get married,” he adds in a small voice. “It’s what he always dreamed of for me.”
“She’ll be there in spirit.”
Their beliefs are different, and Carlos respects that, but he truly believes that Gwyn will be watching down from wherever she is. She wouldn’t miss out on her firstborn son’s wedding, so though she won’t be there in the way Carlos wishes he could make happen for TK, she’ll be there in spirit.
And if not in spirit, then in their hearts and souls.
“Yeah,” TK agrees, flattening the Post-It once more. His hand then moves to settle on Carlos’ arm, and he sighs. “I was thinking… I saw this idea on Pinterest. A chair on the front row dressed all in white with a photo of whoever is—you know, missing. We could put the flowers there.”
It sounds beautiful to Carlos. He almost wants to cry at the thought; having something like that dedicated to Gwyn at their wedding, reminding them and everyone else that she’s there with them. Instead, he taps at TK’s hip, silently asking him to turn around, and TK does. From there, one of Carlos’ hands rests on TK’s hip and the other cups his cheek.
“That sounds perfect, Ty.”
“Thank you, baby,” TK murmurs, pressing himself against Carlos. “Thank you for doing all of this for me.”
Carlos runs his thumb across his cheek. “It’s for us.”
TK hums as he leans into Carlos’ touch even further. “I know, but you’re organizing everything and going all groomzilla on the wedding and—”
“I am not going all groomzilla—”
“Carlos.”
He shuts his mouth when TK grins at him.
“You literally have a binder full of wedding ideas, color-coordinated Post-It notes, and everything, you are going a little bit groomzilla on the wedding.”
“I’m sor—”
“Shut up,” TK says fondly, rolling his eyes. “I love you, Mr. Control Freak, and I love your binder full of wedding plans. I love that you’re so invested in this, in us, and I love that you remember what I said in a stupid rant about flowers.” Carlos goes to reply, but TK shakes his head. “You are the kindest and most thoughtful man I have ever met, Carlos Reyes, and I can’t wait to marry you.”
Despite the tears running down his cheeks, Carlos leans in and kisses TK. It’s only a chaste kiss, but Carlos hopes it says what some words simply cannot.
“I can’t wait to marry you either,” he whispers. Then, trying to hide his grin, “Just one thing…”
TK raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
“It’s Mr. Reyes-Strand to you.”