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On his finger is a ring.
He thinks about its matching pair – or as close to a matching pair as he could find. This one, he knows, is custom, with beautiful waves carved along its path and gentle indents that cradle the smallest of jewels. This one is scratched from years of wear and tear, and yet, it is flawless in its golden brilliance.
One day, he tells himself, he will find a way to match this handicraft: he imagines the delicacy that must have been required for the detailing. He thinks of tender touches and kisses from its creator. He does not see himself as capable of such softness, but for him, he will try. There must be better ways to express the accumulated love and affection within him beyond stammered gratitude and a ring that is too simple, too meaningless in return.
His thumb brushes mindlessly against the band. The ring is heavy in more ways than one; it spins, slowly, the weight of it pulling against his skin. It is warm in his hand, almost burning with the comfort it provides. He feels the universe is settled in his palm – concentrated within the gold are dreams that have yet to be fulfilled, dreams that they will reach one day.
“I won’t let you die on me.” Unsteady chuckling to mask the worry. “We survive together or we die together. Any other ending… Anything else, and it won’t suffice.”
He shakes his head in return. “I promise. As long as you don’t go, I won’t either.”
To think about the future is dangerous. To make promises when their lives hang in the balance of life and death daily is dangerous. But the ring and all that it stands for remains stubbornly at the center, and he is letting himself fall into its allure, letting himself be carried through the fluid lines that trail the band. The longing for his company is second nature now; it is another need alongside water and air, if not an even greater need.
He will ensure their dreams come true one day, because he has fallen too far to consider any other future without them together. He knows that behind each one of their whispered promises is a past that towers over them, a shadow that threatens to fall into endless night. He understands the trust that must have been granted to him, for him to understand the histories that haunts his lover. He continues to fidget with the ring.
“This is your wedding band, Amir. I don’t want to take it from you.”
Amir leaves it in his palm, setting it down with the same delicacy he had when making it. “You aren’t taking it. I’m giving it to you, because I want it to hold new meaning now. Let it be my promise to you: that when this is over, we’ll start anew in peace.”
“In peace,” Vincent echoes, “we’ll build our own life.”
He cannot see what their own life will look like, now. But he can already feel it: he will swaddle Amir in whatever love his heart is capable of giving and even more beyond that. He will make sure Amir no longer remains in the past, but looks ahead at the sheer number of possibilities they have for the rest of their long lives. He will treasure the wedding band that Amir had once made for Nora, and hold its meaning as close to his chest as he can.
He will continue to dream, and thus, he will continue to live.