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When Jimmy dragged himself out of bed and into the kitchen, still heavy with sleep and regret, Sea was already awake.
He was curled up on the couch with his phone pressed to his ear, bare feet tucked beneath him, hair still messy in the way that meant he hadn’t bothered to style it yet. Nana’s voice carried clearly enough that Jimmy caught fragments even from a distance.
“No, I’m telling you, if we go to that restaurant again, Mom will complain the whole time,” she was saying.
Sea laughed softly. “She complains everywhere. At least there she has wine.”
Jimmy paused by the counter.
Normally, he would have gone straight to him. He would have sat down without asking, leaned in, let his head rest in Sea’s lap like it belonged there. Sea would have pet his hair absentmindedly, like a habit neither of them questioned anymore. Jimmy didn’t like physical affection much—but with Sea, it had never felt like effort.
This morning, his feet stayed planted.
Last night lingered between them, unresolved and heavy. The argument hadn’t even been loud. It had been worse than that. Silent. Sea hadn’t come back to bed.
Jimmy had apologized—clumsily, multiple times, and too late—and still didn’t know what else he could offer. There was no manual for forgiveness, no checklist to complete. He had no idea how to be forgiven.
Sea glanced over and caught sight of him.
For a split second, Jimmy braced himself.
Instead, Sea smiled faintly and lifted his chin toward the couch, patting the cushion beside him while still listening to Nana.
“Hold on,” Sea said into the phone, soft but amused. “P’Jimmy’s awake. No, he doesn’t look like a zombie—don’t start.”
Jimmy snorted despite himself and moved closer, uncertainty trailing him like a shadow. He sat stiffly at first, until Sea tugged him closer with a gentle pull at his wrist. Jimmy gave in, letting his head settle into Sea’s lap.
Sea’s hand found his hair automatically.
Jimmy closed his eyes, then opened them again, heart thudding too hard. Sea was touching him like nothing was wrong. Like last night hadn’t happened. Like he hadn’t gone to bed alone with guilt clawing at his ribs.
“Anyway,” Sea continued, fingers combing slowly through Jimmy’s hair, “Saturday works better. If we do Sunday, Dad’s going to pretend he’s fine and then complain for a week.”
Nana laughed on the other end. “You’re organizing this, aren’t you?”
Sea hummed. “Someone has to. And before you ask—no, I haven’t told them yet. I think I’m going to task Zen with it. He’s the youngest; they can’t possibly be angry at him.”
Jimmy stared at the floor.
Saturday.
The word lodged in his chest.
He thought of candles. Of carefully plated food cooling on the table. Of Sea dressed beautifully, excitement turned fragile and hopeful, waiting for him—who hadn’t even thought to call.
Jimmy’s throat tightened.
Sea’s tone stayed light, affectionate, present. He talked about reservations, about who would pick up the cake, about Nana not trusting him with the guest list. He laughed easily, his thumb brushing small, unconscious circles at Jimmy’s temple.
Jimmy couldn’t reconcile it.
When Jimmy had come home the night before, Sea’s face had been red, eyes bright with unshed tears as he packed away untouched dishes. The house had felt like a held breath. Jimmy had known immediately what he’d done—how badly he’d messed up. Everything.
Sea hadn’t yelled. He hadn’t accused.
He’d gone cold.
“Go to bed,” he’d said, calm and distant. “You’re tired.”
Jimmy had tried to apologize then, words tumbling over each other, offering to fix it, to have dinner anyway, to do anything. Sea hadn’t looked at him, hadn’t spoken to him. Eventually, there had been nothing left to do but obey and go to bed.
Now, Sea was acting like that version of himself had never existed.
“And P’Jimmy?” Nana’s voice said suddenly, pulling him back to the present. “Tell him he can’t miss this dinner or he’s not part of the family anymore.”
Sea laughed—warm, real—and for a moment Jimmy felt the terrifying relief of familiarity.
“Okay, don’t worry,” Sea said into the phone. “I’ll text you later. Yes. I promise. Go eat something.”
He ended the call and set the phone aside.
The silence that followed was louder than anything before.
Sea kept stroking his hair.
Jimmy waited for the other shoe to drop—for anger, for hurt, for the fight he thought he deserved. Instead, Sea only sighed softly and leaned back into the couch.
And that calm—so deliberate, so gentle—made Jimmy’s stomach twist.
Because anger could be faced.
This felt like standing in the aftermath of something fragile, wondering if it had already shattered without making a sound.
Sea was the first to break the silence.
“You’re thinking very loudly,” he said.
Jimmy let out a breath that might have been a laugh if it hadn’t come out so thin. “Sorry.”
Sea tilted his head, looking down at him. His expression was soft, but there was something guarded beneath it—like a door left ajar rather than thrown open.
“You don’t have to apologize anymore,” Sea said. “You already did plenty.”
Then, after a beat, he added, “At least wait until nine a.m. if you really want to.”
That earned a real huff of air from Jimmy. Sea’s fingers paused for half a second, then resumed their slow path through his hair, more deliberate now.
Jimmy swallowed. “Sea.”
“Mmh?”
“I… about last night.”
There it was. The words he’d been carrying since he woke up—heavy, sharp-edged.
Sea didn’t stop touching him, but his gaze drifted away, settling on the far wall. “I know.”
Jimmy pushed himself up just enough to look at him properly. “I really messed up.”
“Yes,” Sea said simply.
The honesty landed harder than anger would have.
Jimmy nodded. “I forgot. I didn’t mean to—” He stopped himself, jaw tightening. “That sounds worse every time I say it.”
Sea’s mouth twitched, but it didn’t quite become a smile. “It does.”
Jimmy leaned back again, defeated, pressing his forehead into Sea’s thigh. “I had it written down. I even thought about it in the morning. I genuinely thought the dinner was on Sunday. I was so sure. I even remember thinking, Good, I still have tomorrow. I didn’t think to text. I didn’t think to check.” He exhaled sharply. “I know excuses don’t help.”
“No,” Sea agreed. “They don’t.”
Another pause. Sea’s hand slowed, then rested flat against Jimmy’s head, grounding.
“I wasn’t mad because you were late,” Sea continued quietly. “Or because dinner got cold. Or because the candles were stupid and overkill.”
“They weren’t stupid,” Jimmy muttered.
“They were,” Sea said fondly. “But that wasn’t the point.”
Jimmy stayed silent, listening.
Sea glanced down, fingers tracing idle lines through Jimmy’s hair. “I had everything ready. And when the time passed, I kept telling myself you’d walk in any second. That you were just late.”
Jimmy swallowed hard.
“And then you didn’t,” Sea said simply. “And I realized you weren’t late. You weren’t coming at all.”
The words landed with quiet precision.
“When I heard the door,” Sea went on, “and saw your face when you realized—that’s when I knew it wasn’t intentional. You looked like someone who’d just stepped into the wrong version of reality.”
Jimmy huffed softly. “That obvious?”
“Painfully.”
Silence stretched between them—not tense, just thoughtful.
“I don’t need to be your top priority all the time,” Sea said. “I know your life. I know your work. I’ve been with you long enough to understand how your brain files things away.”
He paused, choosing his words carefully. “But sometimes, when things like this happen, it makes me wonder where I sit. Not emotionally—you’re very bad at hiding that part.” A small smile flickered. “But practically. I don’t want to be a schedule. I don’t want to be managed.”
Jimmy’s fingers curled slightly into Sea’s shirt, a reflex he didn’t even realize he still had. “You’re not a schedule,” he said immediately, voice rough. “You’re—” He stopped, frustrated. Words failed him when he needed them most.
Sea looked down at him, really looked this time. “Then show me,” he said gently but firmly. “Not with promises. Just… with presence.”
Jimmy nodded too fast. “I want to. I do. I just—” He sighed, dragging a hand over his face. “I don’t know how to fix something that already happened.”
Sea’s hand slid from his hair to his cheek, thumb brushing under his eye. “You don’t fix it. You sit in it with me.”
That made Jimmy flinch. Sitting in discomfort was not his strength. He preferred solutions, checklists, immediate corrective action. This—this waiting, this quiet accountability—felt like standing still in the rain.
Sea seemed to read it on his face. “You always want to move forward,” he said softly. “I just need you here first.”
Jimmy shifted, turning fully toward him, knees tucked against the couch. He rested his forehead against Sea’s. “I hate that I hurt you.”
“I know,” Sea said. “That’s why I’m still here.”
The words weren’t dramatic. They were factual. And somehow, that made Jimmy’s chest ache more.
Sea shifted slightly, enough to look at him properly now. His expression was calm again—just Sea.
“You don’t have to look like that,” he said.
“Like what?” Jimmy asked.
“Like you’re waiting for a verdict.”
Jimmy exhaled through his nose. “Hard habit to break.”
Sea smiled faintly and leaned back against the couch. “I’m not angry anymore. I was hurt, yes. And tired. But I don’t want this to turn into something heavy we keep carrying around.”
Jimmy nodded. “I don’t either.”
Sea’s fingers resumed their slow path through Jimmy’s hair. “We’ve been together too long for one bad night to rewrite everything.”
That loosened something in Jimmy’s chest. “It still mattered.”
“It did,” Sea agreed easily. “And we talked about it. That’s the important part.”
A pause—comfortable this time.
“By the way,” Sea added casually, “my parents’ anniversary dinner is next month, the first Saturday of the month.”
Jimmy stilled, then looked up at him. “At their place?”
“Restaurant,” Sea corrected. “The one by the river. The one my mom pretends she doesn’t like but insists on every year for the wine.”
Jimmy smiled despite himself. “Right. I remember.”
Sea tilted his head. “You are coming, by the way. Argument or no argument. You’re my boyfriend. If you don’t come, thenwe’re going to have a real argument.”
The words were light, but they carried weight.
Jimmy shifted, sitting up just enough to press a quick, grateful kiss to Sea’s jaw. “Yes. I’m coming.”
“Good,” Sea said, pleased. “Because Nana already told everyone you’re driving us.”
Jimmy groaned. “I did not agree to that.”
“You did by existing,” Sea replied sweetly.
Jimmy laughed—genuine, unguarded—and settled back into Sea’s lap. Sea’s hand returned to his hair, steady and familiar, like an anchor.
“Next time,” Jimmy said quietly, “I’ll check the date twice.”
Sea hummed. “Next time, I’ll remind you once more.”
Jimmy smiled, eyes closing. “That’s partnership.”
“Exactly,” Sea said, leaning down to kiss his temple.
Sea’s hand stilled in Jimmy’s hair.
He lifted his head slightly, as if listening to a thought he’d almost missed, then exhaled and stood.
“Wait here,” he said.
Jimmy looked up, puzzled but calm. “Okay.”
Sea disappeared into the bedroom. The apartment fell quiet again—the kind of quiet that no longer felt heavy, just shared. Jimmy stayed where he was, elbows resting on his knees, fingers loosely laced together. His gaze drifted around the room, catching on the little things: the blanket Sea always folded too neatly, the mug left on the counter from last night, the faint trace of candle wax on the table.
When Sea came back, he was holding a small gift bag.
Dark blue. Simple. Carefully chosen.
He stopped in front of Jimmy and held it out. “I meant to give you this last night.”
Jimmy took it without speaking.
Inside, folded tissue paper protected something small. Jimmy moved slowly, as if rushing might break the moment. He parted the paper and uncovered the coin.
Old. Worn. Immediately recognizable.
His breath caught.
“I found it by chance,” Sea said quietly. “I wasn’t looking for anything. But when I saw it, I thought of you.”
Jimmy turned the coin between his fingers, feeling the familiar weight, the ridges softened by time. “You know what it is.”
Sea nodded. “I asked. I wanted to be sure.”
Jimmy looked up at him. “You didn’t have to.”
“I know,” Sea said simply.
He sat down beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed. Not pressing. Just there.
Jimmy swallowed, something warm and tight settling in his chest. “You paid too much.”
Sea’s lips curved, faint but sincere. “Probably. But I knew you’d take care of it.”
Jimmy closed his fingers around the coin, then around the edge of the bag, grounding himself. “The dinner…”
“Yes,” Sea said.
Jimmy hesitated. “It was for this.”
Sea nodded. “It was an excuse,” he said gently. “To give you this. To have a moment. I wanted it to be… special.”
Jimmy’s shoulders slumped slightly. “I’m sorry it didn’t go the way you planned.”
Sea leaned his head against Jimmy’s shoulder. “It still went somewhere,” he said. “Just not where I expected.”
Jimmy turned, pressing a quiet kiss into Sea’s hair. Not hurried. Not apologetic. Just intimate. “Thank you,” he said, voice low.
Sea stayed there, solid and warm. “You’re welcome.”
They didn’t rush to fill the silence.
🔆🔆🔆
One Month Later
Jimmy hadn’t moved in a while.
Phone pressed to his ear, gaze fixed on the kitchen window, he stood as if motion itself might knock something out of alignment.
“P'Jimmy,” Mimi said gently, “you’ve gone quiet again.”
He swallowed. “We’ve never talked about marriage.”
Mimi didn’t interrupt.
“We’ve talked about us. About the long term. About staying,” he went on, voice low. “We’ve talked about houses, schedules, growing old badly together.” A faint huff. “But not marriage. Not once.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“I know what it doesn’t mean,” Jimmy said quickly. “I’m not saying he doesn’t want me. I’m saying this is… new territory.”
Mimi shifted on the other end of the line, fully focused now.
“He hates conflict,” Jimmy continued. “You know that. He’d rather agree than hurt someone. Especially someone he loves.” His jaw tightened. “What if I ask, and he says yes because it’s easier than saying no?”
Mimi exhaled slowly.
“You’re worried he’ll protect you at his own expense,” she said.
“Yes,” Jimmy replied immediately. “Exactly that.”
He dragged a hand through his hair. “We’re doing this at his parents’ anniversary dinner. His whole family there. What if he feels like refusing would ruin everything? What if he thinks he has to say yes in that moment, and only later realizes he wasn’t ready?”
Mimi leaned back in her chair, thoughtful.
“You’re assuming Sea wouldn’t stop himself from stepping into something that would hurt him,” she said carefully.
Jimmy hesitated. “I’m assuming he loves me enough to try.”
That landed heavily.
“P'Jimmy,” Mimi said softly, “loving someone doesn’t turn you into a hostage.”
“I know,” he said. “But Sea has spent a long time being the easy one. The agreeable one. The one who smooths things over.”
Mimi nodded even though he couldn’t see it. “And you’ve spent a long time making sure he doesn’t have to.”
Jimmy closed his eyes.
“That’s why this scares me,” he admitted. “Because I don’t ever want to be the reason he swallows something that matters.”
There was a pause. Not empty. Considered.
“Let me ask you something,” Mimi said. “If Sea didn’t want to marry you—if marriage, specifically, wasn’t something he wanted—do you think he’d hide that forever?”
Jimmy thought about it.
Sea’s honesty. His quiet but immovable boundaries. The way he avoided conflict, yes—but never at the cost of himself when it truly mattered.
“No,” Jimmy said slowly. “Not forever.”
“Exactly,” Mimi replied. “Avoiding conflict is not the same as abandoning yourself. Sea knows the difference. He’s not a child, and he’s not fragile.”
Jimmy’s shoulders loosened a fraction.
“And you’re not springing this on him out of nowhere,” she added. “You’ve built a life together. Stability. Trust. You’re not proposing to a stranger—you’re asking a partner.”
Jimmy exhaled. “Still. He might not have considered it. And I’m introducing the idea in a very… loaded setting.”
Mimi smiled. “Then make sure the question isn’t a trap.”
Jimmy frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” she said, calm and sure, “you can propose without demanding an answer in that exact second.”
Jimmy stilled.
“You can ask him,” Mimi continued, “and make it clear that ‘yes’ is only right if it’s true. That there’s room for hesitation. Room for thought. That you’re not measuring love by immediacy.”
Something in Jimmy’s chest shifted.
“I could do that,” he murmured.
“Of course you could,” Mimi said. “You’re Jimmy. You’d rather wait than take something that isn’t freely given.”
He gave a small, shaky laugh. “You make me sound noble. I’m just terrified.”
“Same thing,” Mimi replied.
Jimmy glanced toward the bedroom again. Sea was still asleep, peaceful, unaware that marriage had entered the narrative of his life for the first time—through a man who loved him enough to doubt himself.
“I don’t want him to say yes unless he means it,” Jimmy said quietly.
Mimi’s voice softened. “And that’s why, when you ask, whatever answer he gives will be the right one.”
A beat.
“So,” she added lightly, “are you done spiraling, or do you want me to stay on the phone until you remember that Sea is capable of choosing himself—even with you standing in front of him?”
Jimmy smiled, just barely. “I'm done.”
“Okay,” Mimi said. “Call me anytime, you know am always here for you” Mimi says before hanging up.
Jimmy let out a slow breath, some of the fear easing.
Tomorrow, he would ask a question they had never spoken out loud.
Not because he needed certainty.
But because he trusted Sea enough to give him the choice.
🔆🔆🔆
“Hia!”
The sound rang out, loud and offended, slicing clean through the quiet apartment.
“Hiaaaa!”
Sea lay sprawled across the bed, hair a mess, one arm flung dramatically over Jimmy’s empty side. His eyes were barely open, his voice thick with sleep and betrayal.
“Hia, why are you not here,” he demanded, muffled by the pillow. “The bed is wrong.”
From the kitchen came an immediate laugh.
“I’m here,” Jimmy called back, amused. “Relax.”
Sea groaned, rolling onto his back. “No. Come back.”
It wasn’t a request. It was a rule.
Jimmy appeared in the doorway seconds later, smiling like he’d just been given permission to steal something precious. He took in the sight—Sea sleepy and disheveled, lips pouted without even trying, utterly unfiltered—and something warm settled low in his chest.
Oh. This one.
Without saying a word, Jimmy crossed the room and flopped onto the bed, landing right on top of Sea.
Sea squeaked, then immediately wrapped himself around Jimmy like a koala, arms and legs locking into place with practiced ease.
“There,” Sea mumbled, face pressed into Jimmy’s neck. “Don’t move.”
Jimmy laughed softly, already kissing the corner of Sea’s mouth, then his cheek, then the bridge of his nose. Slow, unhurried kisses, like he had all the time in the world.
“You’re very bossy this morning,” Jimmy murmured fondly.
Sea hummed, eyes still closed. “I’m sleepy.”
“That explains the attitude,” Jimmy said, and bit him gently—right at the soft place under his jaw.
Sea gasped and squirmed, instantly awake. “Hia!”
Jimmy grinned and did it again, lighter this time, then pressed a kiss there as if to apologize. Then another. And another.
“You’re cute,” Jimmy said, helpless.
“I’m not,” Sea protested weakly, already melting again.
“You are,” Jimmy insisted, kissing his pouty lips. “You’re extremely cute.”
Sea wrinkled his nose. “Stop saying that.”
Jimmy kissed his nose. Then his eyelids. Then his temple. Then, because he couldn’t resist, he nipped gently at Sea’s lower lip.
Sea laughed, high and soft, trying to hide his face in Jimmy’s shoulder. “You’re annoying.”
“And yet,” Jimmy said, tightening his arms around him, “you’re clinging to me like this.”
“That’s different,” Sea replied. “You left.”
“I went to get water.”
“You abandoned me,” Sea said solemnly.
Jimmy bit back a smile and kissed him again—slow this time, lingering, sweet. “I’ll make it up to you.”
Sea sighed, utterly content, fingers sliding under Jimmy’s shirt, warm and familiar. “You’re not allowed to wake up before me anymore.”
Jimmy laughed against his lips. “I’ll try.”
They settled like that, tangled and soft, Sea half-asleep again, trusting Jimmy completely. Jimmy traced the lines of Sea’s back, pressing lazy kisses wherever he could reach, committing every second to memory.
This Sea—the pouty one, the clingy one, the ridiculous one—was something the world never got.
And Jimmy loved him all the more for it.
🔆🔆🔆
Lunch was supposed to be simple.
It started that way, at least.
They sat at the small kitchen table, sunlight spilling lazily through the window, Sea perched sideways on his chair with one leg tucked up, eating slowly and talking about nothing important. Jimmy listened, nodded, smiled in the right places.
And vibrated.
His leg bounced under the table like it had a mind of its own. Fast. Relentless. He shifted in his seat, adjusted his posture, tried crossing his ankles—nothing helped. His hands kept moving too, fingers tapping against the table, then retreating to his lap, then back again.
Sea noticed within the first minute.
He didn’t say anything at first. He just watched, chewing thoughtfully, eyes flicking down to Jimmy’s knee, then back up to his face. Jimmy wasn’t hiding it well. He wasn’t hiding it at all.
Sea tried subtle.
He nudged Jimmy’s foot with his own. “Hia.”
Jimmy startled. “What?”
“You’re shaking the table.”
“Oh.” Jimmy flushed slightly and forced his leg still.
It lasted maybe five seconds.
Sea raised an eyebrow. “You’re nervous.”
“I’m not,” Jimmy said immediately.
Sea smiled. “You are.”
“I’m just restless.”
Sea hummed, unconvinced. He reached across the table, fingers brushing Jimmy’s wrist—light, grounding, familiar.
Jimmy’s breath hitched anyway.
Sea’s smile widened.
Oh.
That was interesting.
“You’re really weird today,” Sea said lightly.
Jimmy laughed too quickly. “Am I?”
“Yes.”
Sea tilted his head, studying him openly now. Jimmy’s jaw was tight, his eyes unfocused, his body tense in a way Sea recognized—not stress exactly, but something coiled and frantic under the surface.
Sea tried once more, softer. “Hey. You okay?”
Jimmy nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
The leg started bouncing again.
Sea sighed.
“Alright,” he said, pushing his chair back. “Enough.”
Jimmy looked up. “Enough what—”
Sea stood, stepped between Jimmy’s knees, and sat down directly in his lap.
Jimmy froze.
“Sea—” he started.
Sea cut him off with a kiss.
Not gentle. Not quick.
A slow, deliberate French kiss—mouth warm and sure, tongue pressing in with confidence, hands sliding up to cradle Jimmy’s neck. It was the kind of kiss they usually only shared when the door was closed and time had stopped meaning anything.
Jimmy made a quiet sound before he could stop himself.
His hands moved on instinct, sliding under Sea’s shirt, palms flattening against warm skin, pulling him closer. Sea fit there perfectly, like his body already knew the shape of Jimmy’s.
The reaction was immediate. Unavoidable.
Sea felt it.
Jimmy was already hard.
He pulled back just enough to grin.
“There it is,” he said, delighted. “I knew it.”
Jimmy groaned softly and dropped his forehead to Sea’s shoulder. “You did that on purpose.”
“Of course I did,” Sea said cheerfully.
He shifted in Jimmy’s lap—just a little. Enough to make the point. Enough to make Jimmy’s breath catch sharply.
Sea laughed, bright and pleased. “Wow. You’re really tense.”
“Sea,” Jimmy warned weakly. “We’re at the table.”
Sea kissed him again before he could say more—deep, unhurried, unapologetic. Then another kiss. And another. His mouth was everywhere, like he was deliberately overwhelming Jimmy’s senses, giving him nothing to focus on except him.
Jimmy kissed him back helplessly, hands tightening under Sea’s shirt, thumbs brushing familiar skin. He’d done this a thousand times before. Holding Sea like this was muscle memory. Comfort. Home.
Sea felt the friction, felt Jimmy’s body respond again, and smiled against his mouth.
“You’re not shaking anymore,” Sea murmured.
Jimmy huffed a breathless laugh. “That’s because you gave me a different problem.”
Sea pulled back just enough to look at him—eyes bright, smug, affectionate. “You love this problem.”
Jimmy sighed, defeated, arms wrapped securely around Sea. “I really do.”
Sea settled comfortably in his lap, completely unbothered by the situation he’d created. He pressed a softer kiss to Jimmy’s lips this time, then another to his cheek.
“See?” Sea said gently. “All better.”
Jimmy rested his forehead against Sea’s shoulder, breathing him in, leg finally still. “You’re a menace.”
Sea beamed. “Only for you.”
They stayed like that for a moment—close, laughing quietly, lunch forgotten—until Sea leaned back slightly, still straddling him, eyes full of mischief.
“And just so you know,” Sea added sweetly, “if you start vibrating again…”
Jimmy looked up, already smiling. “…yes?”
“I’ll make it worse.”
Jimmy laughed, helpless and fond.
Sea shifted first.
Jimmy felt it before he registered it—Sea’s weight lifting off his lap, the sudden absence sharp and disorienting. One second he was warm and pressed close; the next, he wasn’t.
Jimmy blinked. “Sea—?”
Sea stood up casually, completely unbothered, smoothing his shirt like he hadn’t just created a very real problem and then abandoned it.
Jimmy stared at him, stunned. “You can’t be serious.”
Sea turned, already stepping away from the table. “Why not?”
“You—” Jimmy gestured helplessly at his lap. “You just— You can’t do that and then leave.”
Sea glanced back over his shoulder, eyes sparkling. “I can.”
Jimmy’s jaw dropped.
Sea laughed, light and delighted, clearly enjoying himself. He walked slowly toward the hallway, unhurried, every step deliberate. “You were nervous. You’re not nervous anymore.”
“That’s not the point,” Jimmy said, pushing his chair back abruptly. “I have— Sea, I have blue balls.”
Sea stopped at the doorway and turned around, leaning one shoulder against the frame like he had all the time in the world.
“Mm,” he said thoughtfully. “That does sound uncomfortable.”
Jimmy stared at him. “You are unbelievable.”
Sea smiled—soft, dangerous, affectionate. “Ten seconds,” he said lightly.
Jimmy frowned. “Ten seconds for what?”
Sea tilted his head, considering him. Then, sweetly: “If you want help.”
Jimmy froze.
Sea lifted his hand and began counting down on his fingers. “Ten…”
Jimmy was already halfway out of his chair. “You’re cheating.”
“Nine…”
Jimmy moved fast, heart pounding, laughing despite himself. “You started this!”
“Eight…”
Sea turned and walked into the bedroom, unhurried, voice floating back to him. “Seven…”
Jimmy followed immediately, abandoning lunch entirely.
“Six…”
“You’re impossible,” Jimmy called after him.
Sea laughed, bright and pleased. “Five…”
The bedroom door remained open, inviting, the promise unmistakable.
“Four…”
Jimmy didn’t let him reach three.
The rest of the afternoon could wait.
🔆🔆🔆
Jimmy was vibrating again.
Not as dramatically as the day before, not enough to draw immediate attention—but enough that he could feel it in his bones. A restless energy humming under his skin, sharp and insistent.
Yesterday’s sex had helped. A lot. Sea had a way of pulling him fully into his body, emptying his head of everything except warmth and contact and laughter. For a few blessed hours, Jimmy had slept deeply, dreamlessly.
But now it was daytime.
The day.
And all the nerves came rushing back at once.
Jimmy sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward to tie his shoes, fingers fumbling slightly with the laces. He forced himself to slow down, to breathe, but his knee still bounced faintly, betraying him.
The ring was in his right pocket.
He checked it without thinking—just a small, habitual shift of his hand. Still there. Safe. Solid.
A custom-made ring. Simple, elegant, unmistakably Sea.
A few months into their relationship—back when everything was still new and undefined—Sea had sent him a photo of a ring. Not for them, obviously. It had been a wedding ring, spotted online, sent casually with a message like this is kind of pretty, right? Nothing more than that. Something fleeting.
Jimmy had remembered it anyway.
Remembered how Sea had loved the clean lines, the quiet beauty of it. How his taste leaned toward things that didn’t scream for attention but stayed with you.
So Jimmy had carried that memory for years. And when the time came—when the idea of forever stopped being terrifying and started feeling inevitable—he’d had one made just for him.
Sea moved behind him, close enough that Jimmy felt the warmth of his body before he felt the touch.
“Hey,” Sea said softly.
Jimmy looked up just as Sea leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his temple. Not demanding. Not teasing. Just grounding.
Jimmy exhaled without realizing he’d been holding his breath.
Sea smiled faintly. “You’re nervous again.”
Jimmy huffed a quiet laugh. “Am I that obvious?”
“A little,” Sea said. He kissed his cheek this time, then brushed their noses together. “Is it because of tonight?”
Jimmy nodded, which was easier than lying.
Sea tilted his head, confused but affectionate. “Hia, you’ve met my parents a million times.”
“I know,” Jimmy said quickly. “It’s not that.”
Sea frowned slightly. “Is it because Nana invited your parents too?”
Jimmy hesitated just a fraction of a second too long.
Sea noticed.
“Oh,” Sea said slowly. “Is that weird for you?”
Jimmy shrugged, forcing casualness. “A bit.”
Sea reached out and rested his hands on Jimmy’s shoulders, thumbs pressing gently, steady. “They love you. All of them. You know that, right?”
Jimmy nodded again. “I do.”
Sea studied him, eyes warm and searching. “Then what’s got you like this?”
Jimmy opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
Sea didn’t push. He never did when it mattered.
Instead, he leaned in and kissed him once more—soft, lingering, a kiss meant to calm rather than distract.
“Whatever it is,” Sea murmured against his lips, “we’ll get through it. It’s just dinner.”
Jimmy smiled faintly at that. Just dinner.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Just dinner.”
Sea kissed him one last time and pulled back, satisfied. “Come on. We’re going to be late.”
Jimmy stood, heart pounding, hand brushing his pocket again out of instinct.
The ring waited there—silent, patient.
And Jimmy followed Sea out of the room, hoping his knees would stop shaking before he had to ask the most important question of his life.
🔆🔆🔆
The restaurant was packed.
Not just full.
Not just busy.
It was the kind of packed that made Jimmy pause just inside the entrance and reconsider every life choice that had led him here.
This was not a dinner.
This was a family summit.
The long table stretched farther than Jimmy remembered it doing last time, chairs added at both ends, the staff moving around it like they were managing a small event rather than a reservation. Sea’s parents sat at the center, radiant and unmistakably the reason everyone was there.
And then—everyone else.
Sea’s grandparents were already seated near the middle, his grandmother holding court with quiet authority, his grandfather smiling serenely as if this many people were exactly what he’d expected from the evening. Two of Sea’s uncles flanked them, both with their wives, all four engaged in animated conversation, wine glasses already half-empty.
Jimmy’s chest tightened.
This was escalating.
Nana was there, of course, beside her boyfriend, his mother seated happily next to them. Zen sat further down with Danica, his wife, her parents on either side, all of them relaxed, affectionate, deeply at ease.
And then—because the universe clearly had a sense of humor—Jimmy’s parents, talking warmly with Sea’s mother like this was a regular occurrence, Mimi leaning in close, already laughing at something Nana had said.
Jimmy counted again.
And then again.
This was not a coincidence.
Sea stopped beside him, taking in the scene with the quiet resignation of an introvert staring down a social endurance test. He inhaled, slow and deliberate, then squared his shoulders.
“It’s… a lot,” Sea murmured.
Jimmy let out a breathless laugh. “That’s one way to describe it.”
They moved forward, greeting everyone in turn. Hugs, congratulations, polite small talk. Jimmy smiled, shook hands, answered questions automatically, but his focus kept slipping—his awareness drawn again and again to the weight in his pocket.
The ring felt heavier with every additional relative.
Sea, meanwhile, was clearly out of his comfort zone—but he handled it with grace. He smiled when spoken to, answered questions, checked in on his grandparents, accepted the noise and attention because tonight was important to his parents.
And because Jimmy was the one barely holding it together.
They finally sat, Jimmy placed—strategically—between Sea and Nana.
Nana leaned in immediately, her smile bright and unrepentant. “You’re lucky,” she whispered.
Jimmy didn’t even look at her. “Nana.”
She continued cheerfully, “I almost invited the cousins.”
Jimmy closed his eyes. “Please don’t tell me that.”
Sea glanced between them, puzzled. “What?”
“Nothing,” Jimmy said quickly.
Nana patted his arm. “Relax. This is still small. Just immediate family.”
Jimmy stared at the table. Immediate was doing a lot of work there.
Across from him, Mimi caught his eye and offered a reassuring smile. Danica followed suit, nodding once, calm and encouraging. They both knew. They were both enjoying this far more than they should have.
Sea shifted beside him, visibly a little overwhelmed now, shoulders tight—but still present. He leaned closer, voice low. “You okay?”
Jimmy nodded automatically. “Yeah. Just—crowded.”
Sea hummed. “If it gets too much, tell me.”
The irony almost made Jimmy laugh.
Sea slipped his hand under the table and rested it on Jimmy’s knee, grounding and warm. Jimmy squeezed back lightly, grateful.
Jimmy swallowed.
Sea—who hated crowds, who hated noise, who usually retreated quietly when his social battery dipped—was holding steady tonight.
For him.
Jimmy looked down the table again: grandparents smiling, uncles laughing, parents content, siblings relaxed, accomplices watching him with barely concealed excitement.
This was no longer a proposal.
This was a public declaration in front of an entire lineage.
Nana caught his eye again and mouthed, Breathe.
Jimmy exhaled slowly.
He would make sure Sea didn’t feel trapped. He would make sure Sea knew this was a question, not a performance. He would find the right moment—even in a room full of witnesses.
Sea leaned in once more, pressing a light kiss to Jimmy’s cheek, oblivious to the storm inside him. “Hey,” he murmured. “Whatever’s making you this nervous… I’m right here.”
Jimmy smiled back, heart pounding painfully. “I know.”
And that knowledge—Sea’s quiet trust, his steady presence—only made the ring in Jimmy’s pocket feel heavier.
The dinner buzzed on around them, loud and warm and full of family.
And Jimmy sat in the middle of it all, surrounded by grandparents, uncles, parents, siblings, and accomplices—wondering how Nana had managed to turn his carefully planned proposal into a full-scale family event…
…and knowing there was absolutely no backing out now.
Halfway through dinner, Jimmy was ready to abort the mission.
He sat there with his fork resting untouched on the plate, the weight in his pocket suddenly unbearable. The noise around the table blurred together—laughter, clinking glasses, overlapping conversations—but all he could hear was his own heartbeat.
This was too much.
Too many people.
Too many eyes.
Not for him—he could handle attention. He always had.
But for Sea?
Sea would hate this.
Jimmy was suddenly certain of it. This wasn’t intimate. This wasn’t gentle. This was spectacle. And Sea didn’t do spectacle. Sea liked quiet moments, chosen moments. Things that felt theirs, not witnessed by an entire family tree.
If Jimmy did this now—here—this wouldn’t become a beautiful memory.
It would become pressure.
Jimmy’s hand twitched toward his pocket and then stopped. His jaw tightened.
Across the table, Mimi caught his eye.
Her expression had changed.
She wasn’t smiling anymore.
She was watching him—steady, expectant. So was Danica, her gaze calm but pointed. Nana had gone quiet too, leaning toward Mimi, whispering something behind her hand while keeping Jimmy firmly in her peripheral vision.
Sea’s parents were worse.
They didn’t say anything—but Jimmy felt it. His mother-in-law’s eyes flicked to him more than once. Sea’s father met his gaze briefly, lifted his brows just a fraction, then looked away.
They were all waiting.
And somehow—even though this was his idea—Jimmy felt cornered.
He swallowed hard.
I can still stop, he thought.
I can wait. I can do it another day. A better moment.
Except now, even that felt impossible.
Beside him, Sea was quieter than usual.
Not withdrawn—but definitely running low.
Jimmy noticed the signs immediately, because after five years, he always did. The way Sea’s shoulders were slightly tense. The way his smiles took a little more effort. The way he leaned back in his chair more often, conserving energy.
Sea had done well tonight—better than usual, actually. He’d talked, laughed, checked in on his grandparents, answered questions from people he didn’t know well. He’d been present because it mattered to his parents.
But he was tiring.
And Zen was not helping.
Sea glanced toward his brother for the third time in ten minutes, irritation flickering across his face. Zen was smirking at him openly now, eyes sharp with amusement, like he was in on a joke Sea hadn’t been told yet.
“What is his problem,” Sea muttered under his breath, leaning closer to Jimmy.
Jimmy flinched internally. “What?”
“Zen,” Sea said quietly. “He keeps staring at me like that.”
Jimmy followed his gaze and immediately looked away.
Zen grinned.
“Nothing,” Jimmy said too quickly. “Probably just being annoying.”
Sea frowned. “He’s being weird.”
So were Nana and Danica—heads together, whispering constantly. Mimi too, joining in and then looking up at Sea like she’d been caught doing something she absolutely had not been caught doing.
Even Sea’s parents—his parents—kept glancing at him in a way that made his skin prickle.
Sea shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“Why is everyone acting strange,” he murmured. “Did I miss something?”
Jimmy’s chest tightened.
He turned slightly toward Sea, heart hammering. This was it—the moment he should stop. Say something neutral. Diffuse it. Let the night pass.
Sea looked at him then, really looked at him.
“You okay?” Sea asked quietly.
Jimmy opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Sea’s brows knit together, concern creeping in. “You’re acting weird,” he said gently. “And now everyone else is too.”
Jimmy forced a smile that didn’t quite hold. “It’s just… a lot of people.”
Sea studied him, unconvinced but tired enough not to press. He nodded slowly. “Yeah. It is.”
🔆🔆🔆
Jimmy waited for a lull.
It came halfway through dinner, when conversation fractured into smaller clusters and Sea leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his temple in a way that told Jimmy his social battery was quietly blinking red.
That did it.
Jimmy caught Nana’s eye.
Just once.
Nana straightened immediately, the smile on her face fading into something sharper, more attentive. Jimmy tipped his head toward the hallway, subtle but unmistakable.
Mimi noticed too. Of course she did.
Nana rose first, smooth and unremarkable. “I’m stealing Mimi,” she announced lightly. “I need a second opinion on something vital.”
Mimi stood without question, already moving.
Jimmy followed a moment later, murmuring something vague about needing the restroom. Sea barely noticed—Zen had just leaned in to say something irritating, and Sea was busy summoning patience.
They regrouped near the hallway, out of earshot.
Jimmy didn’t bother easing into it.
“I can’t do it in there,” he said quietly, voice tight. “He’ll hate it.”
Nana’s brows knit instantly. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” Jimmy said without hesitation. “This is too much. Too many people. He’s already tired, and he doesn’t even know why everyone’s acting strange. If I ask him like this, he’ll say yes just to survive the moment.”
Mimi nodded immediately. “You’re right.”
Jimmy exhaled shakily. “I wanted it to be small. Ours. I don’t want him to feel watched. Or trapped.”
Nana glanced back toward the table, toward Sea—who was smiling politely at someone while very clearly counting the seconds in his head. Her expression softened.
“Okay,” Nana said decisively. “Then we change the plan.”
Jimmy blinked. “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” Nana repeated.
Relief hit Jimmy so hard he had to brace a hand against the wall.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
Mimi squeezed his arm. “So. New plan.”
Nana already had her phone out. “You pretend to feel sick.”
Jimmy frowned. “Sick?”
“Not dramatic,” Nana clarified. “Just off. You’ve been weird all night anyway—this tracks.”
Mimi smiled. “You ask Sea to take a walk. The garden’s right there. Everyone can see you from the windows, so no one panics.”
“And we keep everyone distracted,” Nana added. “Dessert. Stories. I’ll keep Zen busy before he explodes with whatever smug nonsense he’s holding in.”
Jimmy nodded slowly, the pieces clicking into place.
“And then,” Mimi said gently, “you do it your way.”
Jimmy swallowed. “Yes.”
Nana looked him dead in the eye. “You’re a good man.”
Jimmy huffed a breath. “I’m terrified.”
“Also correct,” Nana said. “But you’re doing the right thing.”
They parted easily, slipping back into their roles without drawing attention.
Jimmy returned to his seat beside Sea, heart still racing—but steadier now.
Sea leaned toward him immediately. “Where did you go?”
Jimmy hesitated, then pressed a hand lightly to his stomach. “I think I need some air.”
Sea’s concern was instant. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Jimmy said softly. “Just… a little dizzy.”
Sea was already standing. “Come on. Let’s walk.”
Nana waved them off cheerfully. “Take your time. Dessert’s coming.”
Mimi smiled at Jimmy—warm, encouraging, proud.
Sea guided Jimmy away without suspicion, hand warm and steady at his elbow, the restaurant noise fading behind them.
As they stepped into the quiet of the garden, Jimmy felt the knot in his chest loosen.
He was going to ask the most important question of his life—
not because the moment demanded it,
but because Sea deserved to be asked freely.
And for the first time all night, Jimmy knew he was doing it right.
⸻
What Jimmy didn’t know—couldn’t have known—was that the plan hadn’t ended with him.
As soon as Jimmy and Sea disappeared into the garden, Nana grabbed Mimi by the wrist.
“Phone,” Nana whispered.
Mimi blinked. “What?”
“Phone,” Nana repeated, already pulling hers out. “We are not letting this happen without evidence.”
Mimi hesitated for exactly half a second. “Okay, but from far away. Like—respectful.”
“Obviously,” Nana said. “I’m not a monster.”
They slipped out quietly through the side door, keeping to the shadows near the hedges, positioning themselves at what Nana confidently declared was “a safe, emotionally appropriate distance.” Close enough to see. Far enough not to interfere.
Inside, someone laughed loudly. Outside, the garden was calm, softly lit, the restaurant noise reduced to a distant hum.
Jimmy stopped walking.
Sea turned to face him immediately. “Hey—what’s wrong?”
Jimmy’s heart was trying to escape his chest.
He took a breath. Then another. His hands were shaking, openly now, and he didn’t bother hiding it.
“I’m not sick,” he said quietly.
Sea frowned, concern flickering into confusion. “Okay…”
Jimmy looked at him—really looked at him. At the man who had walked him out without question. Who trusted him completely. Who had no idea what was coming.
“I didn’t want to ask you in there,” Jimmy said. “With everyone watching. With all that noise.”
Sea’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though his confusion deepened. “Ask me what?”
Jimmy swallowed.
This was it.
Jimmy didn’t realize he was shaking until Sea gently said his name.
“Hia…”
He was already lowering himself to one knee, movement clumsy, ungraceful, entirely him. The gravel pressed into his trousers. He didn’t care.
Sea froze.
“Hey—what are you doing?” Sea asked softly, half-laughing, half-alarmed.
Jimmy looked up at him.
And for a second, the noise of the restaurant, the garden lights, the night air—all of it faded. There was only Sea. The man who had followed him outside without question. The man who was looking at him now like the ground might shift under his feet.
“I’m not good at this,” Jimmy said immediately, because lying felt impossible. “I never have been.”
Sea’s breath caught.
“I’m not great with words. I forget things. I work too much. I get stuck in my head and I don’t always show up the way I should.” His voice wavered, but he didn’t stop. “I know that.”
Sea shook his head faintly. “Hia—”
“Let me finish,” Jimmy said gently, almost pleading.
Sea nodded.
Jimmy swallowed. “We’re so different. You know that, right? You feel things before you say them. You notice everything. You make space for people.” A small, breathless laugh. “I organize. I plan. I mess things up and then try to fix them after.”
Sea’s eyes were already bright.
“And somehow,” Jimmy continued, “you still chose me. Over and over. Even when I didn’t make it easy. Even when I wasn’t very good at being… present.”
He reached into his pocket then, fingers shaking, and pulled out the ring. He didn’t open it right away—just held it, grounding himself in its weight.
“You changed me,” Jimmy said quietly. “You made me better. Kinder. Braver. You made me someone who knows how to stay.”
Sea’s breath trembled.
“I used to think love was something you managed,” Jimmy went on. “Something you fit into a life.” He looked up at Sea again, eyes shining. “You taught me it’s something you build a life around.”
Sea laughed softly, broken, and wiped at his eyes.
“I know I don’t always say it right,” Jimmy said. “I know I make mistakes. I will probably keep making them. But I know one thing with absolute certainty.”
His voice steadied.
“I don’t want a life I don’t come home to you,” he said. “I don’t want a future you’re not in.”
He finally opened the box, the ring catching the light—simple, quiet, unmistakably Sea.
“I can’t live without you,” Jimmy said simply. “I don’t want to.”
Sea covered his mouth, tears spilling freely now.
“So I’m asking,” Jimmy finished, voice low and earnest, “if you’ll keep choosing me. If you’ll let me choose you—every day, officially, imperfectly, for the rest of my life.”
He took a breath.
“Will you marry me?”
For a heartbeat, Sea didn’t speak.
Then he laughed—soft, overwhelmed, utterly undone.
“You idiot,” Sea whispered fondly.
Jimmy laughed weakly. “That’s fair.”
Sea dropped to his knees in front of him without thinking, hands cupping Jimmy’s face, forehead pressed to his.
“I’ve been choosing you,” Sea said through tears. “I never stopped.”
Jimmy’s breath broke.
“Yes,” Sea said firmly. “Yes. Of course yes.”
Jimmy laughed and cried at the same time, a sound torn straight from his chest, as Sea pulled him up and kissed him—hard, grounding, real.
Behind a hedge, Nana silently clutched Mimi’s sleeve. Mimi was openly crying now, phone shaking, completely useless as a videographer and not caring in the slightest.
In the garden, Jimmy pressed his forehead to Sea’s, still trembling.
“I love you,” he said hoarsely.
Sea smiled through tears. “I know,” he said. “I always have.”
And in that quiet space—no table, no crowd, no pressure—Jimmy had asked the most important question of his life exactly the way he meant to.
And Sea had answered exactly the way he always did.
By choosing him back.
🔆🔆🔆
When they walked back into the restaurant thirty minutes later, everything stopped.
Not loudly.
Not immediately.
Just… subtly.
Sea’s eyes were red—not swollen, not messy, but unmistakably cried-out. His hand was locked with Jimmy’s, fingers woven together so tightly it looked permanent already. Jimmy stood close, shoulder brushing Sea’s arm, like letting go simply wasn’t an option anymore.
They didn’t try to hide it.
Zen noticed first.
He took one look at Sea’s face, at Jimmy’s expression—wrecked, glowing, undone—and let out a sharp whistle that cut clean through the chatter.
“Well,” Zen said loudly, already standing, applause starting before anyone else could catch up. “About time.”
Danica gasped, hand flying to her mouth. “Wait—did—”
She didn’t get to finish.
Mimi and Nana appeared like a coordinated unit, phones already raised, eyes shining, absolutely feral with joy.
“We have footage,” Nana announced proudly.
“And pictures,” Mimi added. “So many pictures.”
Sea blinked, then laughed—soft, incredulous, overwhelmed. Normally, he would have protested. Normally, he would have hated being put on the spot.
Tonight, he didn’t.
He turned to Jimmy instead, cupped his face with both hands, and kissed him—warm, certain, unguarded—right there in front of everyone.
The restaurant erupted.
Sea pulled back just long enough to lift his hand, the ring catching the light as he raised it slightly, almost shy and impossibly proud all at once.
“We’re getting married,” he said, voice steady despite the tears still clinging to it.
The reaction was immediate and overwhelming.
Cheers. Applause. Sea’s parents were on their feet, his mother already crying openly, his father blinking rapidly like he was trying to keep it together and failing. Jimmy’s parents looked stunned for exactly half a second before smiling so wide it bordered on disbelief.
Nana whooped. Mimi was openly sobbing now, still filming and absolutely useless at it.
Sea leaned back into Jimmy, still holding his hand, still smiling like he couldn’t quite believe this was real.
Jimmy laughed, breathless, and kissed Sea’s temple. “You okay?”
Sea nodded, eyes shining. “I’ve never been better.”
And in the middle of the noise, the congratulations, the phones, the clinking glasses—Sea squeezed Jimmy’s hand once, grounding, certain.
This part—the celebration, the witnesses, the joy—was loud.
But what mattered had already happened quietly.
Exactly the way they needed it to.
🔆🔆🔆
The apartment was wrapped in silence.
Only one lamp was on, its light low and golden, turning the room into something gentle and unreal. Outside, the world kept moving, but in here, time had slowed to something manageable.
They were in bed, skin to skin, sheets barely covering them.
Jimmy lay behind Sea, pressed close, his chin resting between Sea’s shoulder blades. He kissed him there—once, twice—then traced a lazy path along his back with his lips, not in a rush, not trying to lead anywhere. Just touching because he could.
Sea hummed happily, smiling so much his cheeks hurt.
He lifted his left hand again.
The ring caught the light.
Sea turned it slowly, studying it with the kind of focus usually reserved for things that mattered. His smile softened, then widened again, a quiet giggle slipping out of him.
“…It feels familiar,” Sea said.
Jimmy smiled against his skin. “It should.”
Sea glanced back at him, curious. “Why?”
Jimmy shifted slightly so he could speak properly, still holding him close. “You sent me a picture. A long time ago. Five years.”
Sea blinked. “I did?”
“Mm,” Jimmy said. “You saw it somewhere. A wedding ring. You said you liked how simple it was.”
Sea went very still.
Then he laughed, breathless and disbelieving. “You remember that?”
Jimmy kissed his shoulder, soft and affectionate. “I remember you sending it. I remember thinking you liked things that didn’t need to be loud to be beautiful.”
Sea stared at the ring again, eyes shining. “That was so long ago.”
“And yet,” Jimmy said quietly, “here we are.”
Sea laughed again, softer this time, joy spilling out of him in little sounds he didn’t try to stop. He turned onto his side so they were facing each other, noses almost touching.
“You were so nervous,” Sea said fondly. “I don’t understand why.”
Jimmy smiled, shy and honest. “Because I love you.”
Sea’s expression softened completely.
“There isn’t a world,” Sea said gently, “where I wouldn’t choose you.”
Jimmy’s chest tightened, full in a way that almost hurt. He leaned in and kissed Sea—slow, tender, smiling into it. When they pulled apart, they stayed close, foreheads touching.
Sea lifted his hand again, admiring the ring like it was part of him already. “I can’t believe this is real.”
Jimmy brushed his thumb over Sea’s knuckles. “It is.”
Sea smiled, radiant and calm and entirely himself. “I’m really happy.”
Jimmy kissed him once more, lingering. “Me too.”
They curled closer together after that, fitting naturally, easily—two people who had already been choosing each other for years, now simply saying it out loud.
The lamp cast a warm glow over them as the night settled in, peaceful and sure.
No doubts.
No fear.
Just love—quiet, steady, and enough.