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They don’t usually drink on weeknights, so Rean is a little surprised when Crow pulls out a bottle of red wine with dinner. It’s not unheard of, and ordinarily, Rean wouldn’t think twice about it, but combined with the way Crow has been acting lately, it sets off a ping on Rean’s radar.
He’s been buzzing with this nervous, almost frantic energy that reminds Rean of the very early days of their relationship, when it felt like Crow’s eyes were constantly snapping from corner to corner, seeking the reassurance of an exit sign, and there’s a strange, new weight that settles in what used to be comfortable silences—but the thing is—what really drives him crazy—is that Crow doesn’t actually seem to be withdrawing. And he gets this look sometimes, this soft thing so full of yearning that Rean feels it like a string about to snap in his chest, but he can’t tell if Crow is yearning for something more or for something that’s already gone.
Rean has tried very hard to be calm about it.
He’s used every trick he’s learned to draw an answer out of Crow, but Crow just laughs it off or twitches like he’s been caught somewhere he’s not supposed to be and spins a half-baked excuse that ends against Rean’s mouth. Rean knows he really should be better at resisting that by now, but he’s ashamed to say he’s still as weak to Crow as he was when Crow flipped that fifty-mira coin in the air outside the student union building eleven years ago. At least he’d been able to rein himself in back then. Now, all Crow has to do is exist and Rean is half gone, and the worst part is that Crow knows it.
The soft, popping sound of the cork being pulled from the wine brings Rean back to the dinner table where Crow is pouring both of them a glass.
“What’s the occasion?” Rean asks, not liking the concern that wells up inside him.
It’s not an anniversary or a birthday—Rean is excellent with dates and it’s so important to him that he never forgets to commemorate Crow’s continued existence in some way to let him know he’s loved, so he hasn’t forgotten something big. Instructors don’t really get promotions unless they’re moving into administrative roles, and while Crow has the skills for it, as far as Rean knows, he’s happy with his part-time gig.
Crow just shrugs with an enigmatic little smile and says, “It’s Tuesday.”
“Right,” Rean replies, as though it’s not completely maddening. “Tuesday.”
This is stupid. It’s stupid to be getting this worked up over a bottle of wine at dinner. Rean sighs and takes a sip before he digs into his pasta, and tells himself to relax. Things have been good—better than good; these past nine years have been everything Rean never believed he could have, even with their ups and downs… and that’s partly what scares him.
They’ve been together for nearly a decade. It’s the longest Crow has stayed in one place since he was thirteen.
Crow catches him spacing out and calls him on it, so Rean apologizes. He asks Crow to repeat himself, and Crow relays the story of how he got his exceptionally grumpy first-year to finally crack a smile. Rean relaxes at the sheer normality of the conversation, and shares some anecdotes from his own day as they eat. Dinner continues like this and everything is completely normal—with the small exception of Crow pouring himself a second glass.
And a third.
“Are you okay, Crow?” Rean asks, laying his fork down on his plate.
“The wine is good,” Crow answers with a smile that doesn’t quite hide his tension. “Shame to waste it.”
“You know too much wine gives you a hangover.” Rean narrows his eyes. “Need I remind you of Alisa and Ferris’s wedding?”
Something pulls at Crow’s smile and Rean quite read it.
“Point taken,” he sighs. “Was a nice wedding, though. Way too flashy for me but it was their day, so…” he trails off. He takes a long drink and exhales. “You know, it kinda feels like everyone around us is gettin’ married lately.”
Rean swallows.
There’s a ring hidden inside one of his dress shoes—the pair Crow absolutely hates—in their bedroom closet. It’s nothing too fancy, just a simple, silver band split by an inlaid channel of diamonds in the center. He hadn’t intended to buy it; he’d actually gone into the store because he saw a charm in the window that reminded him of Emma, but somehow, he completely forgot about that when he saw the case of engagement rings.
Rean still isn’t sure what possessed him to make the purchase. It started as idle curiosity, a fun little thought experiment, a hypothetical “if we ever got married, what kind of ring would he like?” and before Rean knew it, he was holding a receipt.
That was a year ago, and Rean has pointedly ignored the ring’s existence because he doesn’t know how to approach the subject without sending Crow into panicked flight.
They obviously don’t need to be married to love each other or share the rest of their lives. Rean likes the symbol of it, of what it’s supposed to mean, and he wants so badly to give that to Crow, but he can’t think of a way bringing it up could end in anything but disaster. It took so long just to get Crow to stay; Rean couldn’t bear losing him again. And besides, he’s happy with what they have. Just because they’re not married doesn’t mean they love each other any less. A change in their titles and a hyphen between their last names won’t change them.
Will it?
Some of his friends say it does, and others say it doesn’t. Rean isn’t sure if the change the formers speak of is real or just some oxytocin-dopamine cocktail their brains cooked up, but he admits his entire world shifted off its axis the first time Crow casually introduced Rean as his boyfriend, and he wonders how it would feel to be his fiancé or husband.
He imagines referring to Crow that way. Have you met my fiancé, Crow? Or saying: hello, I’m Rean Armbrust-Schwarzer, and it paints his insides with neon so bright he swears his skin actually emits some kind of glow.
It would be nice—but not so nice it’s worth the risk of losing Crow for good.
The reason Rean is so attracted to the idea of marriage is the same one he suspects repels Crow: the permanence. Yes, he knows marriages fail and all that, but for Rean, marriage is more than a party or an expectation or a tradition or a rite-of-passage; it’s a real, soul-binding commitment. To grow individually and together, to make a conscious effort not to drift apart. It’s a promise only death can break, and just because someone learns to love again doesn’t mean the new love replaces the one they lost.
It’s so much more than a gesture or a piece of paper for him, but Rean understands how the concept he finds comfort in could easily be confining to Crow. Maybe knowing he can leave is what allows Crow to stay. Maybe marriage would make him feel trapped. Regardless, it’s not a risk Rean can take.
“I guess so,” Rean answers, pouring what’s left in the wine bottle into his glass because it gives him something to do.
“Even Jusis and Machias are finally gettin’ hitched,” Crow continues.
“If they can ever agree on how they’ll hyphenate their married name,” Rean answers jokingly. Crow laughs, for real, and Rean’s heart swells in his chest with so much affection it aches.
He loves this man, no matter what they call themselves, and peace settles over him once again. He has everything he wants right here, in this beautiful, ridiculous human, and he doesn’t need anything else. Crow being here for nine years is a miracle in itself. Rean has no right to ask for more.
“So, ah… do you wanna get married?”
Rean’s head spins and the floor gives out beneath him as he falters because it’s the worst question Crow could possibly ask. If he lies, Crow will 100% know he’s lying, and he’ll blame himself for depriving Rean of something he wants. If Rean tells the truth, Crow might decide to go for a walk after dinner and never come back.
He tries to puzzle out the million reasons why Crow could be asking: he thinks he’s holding Rean back; he’s wondering if Rean will inevitably leave him if they don’t marry; he wants to know if he should be getting ready to run; the list goes on. Then again, Crow has never told Rean that he doesn’t want to get married. Crow has never actually said the word “marriage” in the nine years they’ve been together, so Rean has no way of knowing how to answer.
“I want to be with you,” Rean finally says, taking a long sip of wine.
Crow bites his lower lip and, like always, Rean wants to kiss it. He panics internally when Crow’s expression shifts into uneasiness.
“As long as we’re together, I don’t care what we are,” Rean explains. He leans in to give Crow’s lips a quick, chaste kiss, and Rean feels the knots and coils his insides have made of themselves mostly unravel when he pulls away and sees Crow’s small, soft smile.
Crow finishes his (third) glass, so Rean shrugs and throws the rest of his back before he gathers the dishes and places them in the sink. He thinks about washing them before the second glass of wine kicks in, but Crow is tugging on his arm like an actual child (Rean supposes the wine is already hitting Crow) so he relents and allows Crow to pull him into the den.
Rean expects Crow to drag him onto the couch, but instead, he leaves him standing in the middle of the room.
“Stay there,” Crow says, as though he thinks Rean might go somewhere. He waits until Rean gives him a nod, and Rean watches as he approaches the record player like he’s on a mission. Rean bites back a laugh.
Crow places the needle in the groove of the record, selecting the track he wants, and returns to Rean. He takes Rean’s hand in one of his own and drapes his other arm around Rean’s neck as if they’re going to dance, and before Rean even knows he’s doing it, his free hand is on Crow’s waist.
Rean’s feet know the steps by heart and maybe it’s the alcohol or Crow or this absolutely surreal turn of events, but he moves and Crow moves with him, and Rean swears that Crow’s smile twitches just a little higher.
“Do you remember this song?” Crow asks almost idly.
Crow’s eyes are only slightly glassy from the wine, and somehow it makes them glimmer all the more. Rean swears there are new hues of deep garnet near his iris that he’s never seen before. He’s so beautiful it really isn’t fair. Rean’s eyes fix on Crow’s mouth and he feels drawn there like a moth to flame, his body flashing with want even after all this time.
He kisses Crow before he thinks about it, tender and soft, and Crow kisses him back. His mouth is warm and pliant and his lips give so easily that it’s hard to resist the urge to slide the hand on Crow’s waist down to his ass.
Crow breaks away from the kiss with a laugh. “I swear, nine years and you’re still as horny as you were at twenty-one.”
Rean blinks to find he wasn’t actually able to resist that urge after all. He grins and gives Crow’s ass another, firmer squeeze. “Only for you, dear.”
Before Crow, Rean had never really considered himself a sexual person. Sure, he could appreciate a nice chest or a particularly good ass, but those visuals had never made Rean want to pounce on the person and either ravish or be ravished by them. The sheer intensity with which he wanted Crow shocked even Rean himself.
“Pervert,” Crow says, interrupting Rean’s thoughts with a sly grin.
“Weren’t you the one who complained about my prudish tendencies back in school?” Rean teases, replacing his hand on Crow’s waist even though it pains him to do so.
Crow sighs, and it’s a soft, regretful note. “I was wrong about a lot of things back then.”
Rean resumes their waltz, hoping to brighten Crow’s mood. “Sorry, I kind of interrupted you before,” Rean says, changing the subject. “You asked me something, right?”
It has the desired effect and Crow snaps out of whatever melancholy had previously settled over him, the darkness passing over his eyes like a fleeting cloud. “The song,” he answers. “Did you remember yet?”
Rean closes his eyes so as to not be distracted by Crow this time and lets the sound fill his ears. It comes to him in a flash: Crow in his arms just like this, drunk on champagne and sentiment, whining because the song has stopped playing and he still wants to dance.
“Laura’s wedding,” Rean answers with a smile. “It was the last song of the night.” He chuckles. “You got all pouty because you didn’t want to stop dancing.”
Crow gives him a glare that looks so, so cute Rean wants to kiss it. “I didn’t get pouty. I don’t pout .”
“Sure you don’t, Crow.”
Crow scoffs. “Asshole.”
“I love you, too,” Rean replies with unexpected fondness.
Crow goes quiet for a while but he doesn’t stop dancing. He lays his head on Rean’s shoulder so Rean can’t look at him, but Rean can feel his breath.
“After we left the wedding, you brought me down to the pier instead of going back to the inn. You hummed this song and danced with me. I thought you’d let go after a minute, but you kept right on humming and dancing as long as I wanted. It was cheesy as fuck, but I didn’t even care.”
Rean remembers how the moon hung huge and bright over the pier in Legram, and the way it made Crow’s hair gleam like starshine. His eyes lit up like twin comets and in that moment, Rean realized that Crow truly did contain his entire universe.
“It was real sweet of you and I never thanked you for it. I was embarrassed the next day, but you didn’t tease me once. Just went along like normal, like it was no big deal. ‘Cause it was no big deal to you. I wanted something and you gave it to me. You’ve always done that. Gave me everything I didn’t know I wanted, and now I’m as spoiled as you are.”
“I could spoil you for a hundred more years and I still wouldn’t be able to give you everything you deserve, Crow,” Rean says before he can catch himself.
Crow hides his face in Rean’s neck but Rean can feel the heat of his blush against his skin.
“Of course, that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try,” Rean finishes with a small smile.
Crow makes a sound that might be a laugh and Rean feels the warm exhalation of air. “Years ago, that shit woulda made me cringe, but now, it just makes me happy ‘cause you mean it.”
“I’m glad,” Rean says. He’s not dancing anymore, just holding Crow and feeling him breathe, listening to his voice, and memorizing how he feels in Rean’s arms. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”
There’s a joke about brain damage or long-term side-effects of malnutrition on the tip of Crow’s tongue; Rean can feel it, but Crow is at least sober enough to swallow it down. Still, Rean holds him a little bit tighter.
“I know it’s not easy for you,” Rean says in reply to what Crow doesn’t. “But I’m so proud of how far you’ve come.”
Crow snorts. “Only you’d be proud of something like that.”
“Only you’d think something like that isn’t worth being proud of.”
Crow chuckles. “Touché. And yet, you’re still here.” There’s affection and awe in his voice as his hand curls into the fabric of Rean’s shirt.
“And I’m always going to be,” Rean insists as though stating a universal truth.
“If I haven’t scared you off yet, odds are you’re planning to stick around,” Crow admits. Then, he sighs. “That’s the thing. I’m not scared to stay. I’m scared you won’t.”
Sad Crow usually doesn’t turn up until seven drinks in, but Rean isn’t about to let him make an early appearance, so he answers Crow with firm determination.
“I’m not going anywhere, Crow. And if death wants to take me away, she’d better be ready to fight.”
Crow chuckles unexpectedly. “You gonna kill Death for me? Wait—does that mean you’d have to do the job?”
Rean laughs, and it feels good. “I dunno. Maybe.”
Crow withdraws to look at Rean and squints one eye critically, as though evaluating him. “You’d be terrible at it. And the dark, hooded robe is not a good look on you. Plus, whoever heard of Death reaping souls with a tachi?”
“Good thing I’m not looking to change careers,” Rean replies.
“Rean, I,” he starts, then stops, his voice so heavy with meaning and love that Rean is as breathless as Crow has become. “Will—I want—” He lets out a frustrated sound and breaks away from Rean’s embrace. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”
“Drunk enough for what?” Rean asks, horribly confused by his partner’s sudden distress. “Just tell me what you want, Crow. You know the answer is already yes.”
Crow stops abruptly and raises an eyebrow. “What if I wanted you to help me hide a body?”
Rean doesn’t need to think about his answer. “I’d grab a shovel.”
Crow’s jaw falls open. His mouth moves soundlessly for a moment, then unfinished syllables spill out until he finally regains enough control to shut himself up.
Rean brushes Crow’s hair back with tender affection and looks directly into his eyes. “I would let the world burn for you,” he admits in complete seriousness.
Silence passes between them. Crow’s eyes are wide with disbelief, a cacophony of emotions reaching a crescendo inside their depths, and so Rean kisses him. It’s a slow, cautious, gentle thing, and it gradually thaws Crow’s surprise.
Crow hides his face in Rean’s neck again and takes a deep breath. “Why don’t you care about getting married?” His voice is barely a whisper.
Rean doesn’t move, but he feels like he’s sustained whiplash all the same.
“C-Crow, I—” he says, and he sounds like he’s had the wind knocked out of him.
“We don’t need to do it,” Crow replies. “I’m not asking you to change your mind. I guess I just… is it me? Like, you love me, but you can’t marry me? ‘Cause I understand that.”
Rean sputters for a moment because there is no way that this can be happening, no possible way this is real—it has to be some alternate timeline or universe or something , and the sound Rean makes is half gut-busting hilarity and half hysteria.
“I bought you a ring a year ago !” It bursts out of Rean with no warning.
Crow startles and draws back to look at him, probably to see if he’s lying, then raises an eyebrow in skepticism. “I’ve checked the dresser.”
“It’s in the closet. Inside those shoes you hate. You steal my clothes all the time—why would I keep it in the dresser?”
Crow blinks, processing this information. Then, his expression shifts, and this time, there’s real annoyance in it. “… You’ve had a ring for a year and you haven’t asked?! What the hell are you waiting for?!”
“I thought you’d freak out!” Rean answers in self-defense, still not entirely convinced this conversation isn’t some kind of hallucination. “Getting you to stay in the first place was—I didn’t want to ask for more than you could give. And I didn’t want you to feel like you had to say yes because I wanted it. Yeah, it would be nice, but it’s not a dealbreaker.”
Crow scoffs in irritation and shakes his head. He drums his fingers nervously against his thigh, then grows frustrated and jams his hand in his pocket. He quickly shoves something velvet-soft into Rean’s hand, says “here”, and turns his face away. He crosses his arms over his chest protectively and his face goes absolutely scarlet.
Time stops for Rean. He’s not even sure if he’s breathing because the velvet box in his hand cannot be what he thinks it is. It just… can’t. For that to happen, Crow would have had to go to a store of his own free will intending to buy a symbol of eternal commitment, and that just—it’s not possible.
He finally opens his palm to reveal the box that cannot exist and yet, sits in his hand all the same. He glances from it to Crow and back again until he’s nearly dizzy.
Crow scoffs again, loudly this time, with clear annoyance in the sound. “What, are you gonna make me get down on one knee and go through the whole stupid thing? ‘Cause I’m gonna need another bottle of wine before I can make myself do somethin’ that mushy.”
Rean catches himself before he asks what on Earth Crow would need to get down on one knee for and realizes that this… might be happening after all.
He finally opens the box and the emotional regulation system in his brain short circuits because nestled in its pillowed bed is a silver band with two thin channels of diamonds near the edges, a design that’s almost the inverse of the one he picked out for Crow.
“… Are you asking me to marry you?” Rean manages to force out in a choked, breathless voice.
“No, I’m asking you to help me hide the body of the guy I stole the ring from,” Crow snarks.
Rean snaps the box shut. “I’ll get the shovel.” He turns on his heel and Crow laughs. He grabs Rean’s arm and spins him around, pulling him into a kiss.
“Marry me, Crow,” Rean says against his lips.
Crow raises an eyebrow. “You think I’m gonna let you swoop in and steal this out from under me?” he asks. “No freakin’ way. You had a whole year to ask and I had to drink three glasses of wine to get through this. I’m gonna go to work tomorrow with a hangover ‘cause of you.”
“It’s cute you think I’m even going to let you out of bed tomorrow,” Rean replies with a wide, seductive grin.
“So that’s a yes?” Crow asks as though there’s even a chance Rean will say anything else.
“Yes,” Rean answers with a nod that’s probably too emphatic.
Crow lets out a breath it seems like he’s been holding for years and takes the box from Rean’s hand. His hands shake a little as he pulls it open and takes the ring out. The light catches on its gleaming, silver surface and Rean watches in what feels like slow motion as Crow slips it onto Rean’s left ring finger.
Rean makes a noise, something like a sob but bright as a bell and it feels right on his hand, like it was always meant to be there.
“I love you,” Rean says, “Crow Armbrust-Schwarzer.”
It bursts inside him like something nuclear, a reaction at the atomic level of his being that lights up every cell in body.
He kisses Crow without restraint, and Crow’s response is just as intense. The love he’s always felt is there, no different than it was before, but he feels something else, too. Knowing that Crow wants this to be forever, that he wants Rean at his side for the rest of his life is… it’s the only thing that’s ever come close to how Rean felt when he saw that Crow was alive again at the end of the Twilight.
And maybe it’s those abandonment issues or lingering side effects from all the times Crow slipped away that imbue this gesture with so much meaning, but Rean decides he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care because when he looks into those gorgeous red eyes, he sees his own relief and unmitigated joy gleaming back at him.
“I still can’t believe you’ve had a ring for a year,” Crow scoffs when they break apart to breathe.
“I know, I know,” Rean sighs, knocking his forehead into Crow’s. “But at least I’ve got the rest of my life to make it up to you.”