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Here they were. Here they were, finally. Here they were, together, finally.
From the top table where they were, ushered inside by the weather, they smiled. They smiled at each other and they smiled at the collected masses. The collected masses smiled at each other and smiled at them. The collected masses smiled for them and they smiled because of them. They smiled at the happiness of the other and the happiness of himself. They smiled and they were in love, and the gathered smiled because they too were in love. They were in love with a concept brought together; a scientific hypothesis coming true.
It was perfect. The imperfects of it all made it more perfect. It was their love and their family all come together and it was perfect.
Their friends were there. Their neighbours. Their family, both by bond and by blood. The old friends left in the past and found again contributed. A dead voice called out to them. Enemies stood united with only one purpose for the night. The people and beings who had shared their Night Vale and their town into the one they had made their home in were all there. The people who were Night Vale and represented all it was, all it could be and all that it never would be again celebrated. Night Vale celebrated.
The radio host took over, took the microphone and the champagne and championed the news to all. He smiled at the man his intern had grown into, the change that had overtaken him over years and knew that change is not all bad.
The entity smiled, although no one could see it. She was welcome here, welcome in their celebrations and so she celebrated with them. She had been there for them, watching them all the while. She watched them in apartments and in laboratories, saw them come together and form their own home. A home where she was now secretly living, as she secretly lived in all homes. She sometimes smiled at them, in their home, but they did not see her.
The mother left early but it was understood. Children do come first. But she had smiled at them, for their story and the unfolding of it. She saw this as their happy endings, for she believed in them now. The son had rolled his eyes at his mother and waited impatiently for her, but he too, had smiled. It was a big night for some.
The farmer smiled. He had seen them, had been around. Everyone knew of him, sure, and everyone knew of his crop. They knew he was farmer and as a farmer he saw a lot of things happening, he heard it. As a citizen he knew. As a citizen he was told not to welcome interlopers, but as a citizen, he had learned to welcome those coming home.
The sheriff may be gruff, and may have been obligated to be there as the town sheriff but that didn’t mean they only smiled out of obligation to conformity. Although they did conform obligingly, they also did it out of a self-desire to do so. To be happy in the happiness of others.
The sentient patch of haze was a sentient patch of haze and therefore did not have the ability to smile with her non-existent face. She smiled in her voice, in what she endorsed. In who she endorsed.
The dragon was not there to smile. One would never smile again, and as a result, the rest may never. But they spoke words recorded in advance, words of celebration and inclusion. Of celebrating a party they were not attending.
The shop owner rarely smiled, on the principle that smiling would become hip if more people did it. Happiness is contagious and contagion is not hip. But, despite the popularity of the concept, she cracked a small smile. A small smile for the happiness that was evident now, the happiness that was contagious for all those around her. She didn’t care so much that it was becoming popular. It was alright she guessed.
The old intern had learned. Had learned to be a better person, a new person; to let go of the hate and anger that once dragged her down. She thought of voicemails in the past, of heroes and bosses and felt no anger, no hate. She felt the calm of a happy moment and smiled for it.
The beings who cannot legally be called angels celebrated as they did. They said their piece although they could truly be acknowledged by species. They could acknowledge others, and acknowledged the love they saw. The love they could feel.
The enemy smiled, for he always smiled. He smiled wide and smiled happy and smiled with joy. He was happy but he tried to always be happy. He could not be there but they all still saw his smile. His wide, wide smile; they saw it all.
The boss smiled too. She smiled for new beginnings and the start of new changes. She smiled for what had happened and who they were now. She smiled.
The zoo keeper grimaced at the smile of others, wide and gaping. She turned away from it, but she was not the only one repelled. She smiled herself, naturally, but not like them. She smiled like herself. She smiled and she was herself, smiling.
The being that was once a millionaire smiled. The being was no longer that person and had no concept of wealth or the fame of having money. They saw life a lot simpler now, since the higher calling. They saw life as it was. They saw the love and smiled for it.
The programmer tried to compute what happiness was, what it meant. What it meant to herself and what it meant to others. She looked at the couple and saw what it meant to others. She saw what it meant to herself by proxy. She smiled for it.
The automated phone services smiled as they could. They laughed in their words and the infliction of their words betrayed the smile. They smiled as they spoke, asking and saying and understanding.
The old friend was proud. It had been a long road for both of them to get here but he was proud of the journey for the path it took and for where it ended. He was proud of his friend who was happy. They were happy and he smiled for it, baking the cake for them. They had both found a new place of belonging.
The hero smiled, reading poetry of love. She loved poetry and she loved reading and she loved the love poem that surmised all that she could not put into words herself. That was the beauty of books. All the words were already written, already in the correct order to show someone what love was and what it could be. Not that she needed books when she saw them. Only to describe what she saw did she need the words of others.
The schoolgirl smiled, cheering and shouting. She was included as a citizen of Night Vale. Of citizens were included due to the conduction of radio but she was there, for her friend, and to support the words she said, celebrating the occasion.
The mayor herself declared it a big day and she smiled for the friend she had regained. They were both her friends, at different points of her life and now she was their mayor. As mayor she declared it to be a big day but she said it as a friend. She smiled, cheering for the friends she had. For her friends.
The director of emergency press conferences declared it was a joy. She was used to declarations as that was her job but it brought her joy to declare this. No more so than a typical press conference, but joy nonetheless.
The oldest friend was grateful to see this day. She was here and she was witness to a day she feared she may not see. She saw them both, the one she had always known and the one she had not always. She had seen one of them before the other and had seen the change of the years. She knew only too well the change the years could bring. She saw them together and smiled for the day she had gotten to see. She smiled for them, for the people they were and the them they had become.
The brother smiled, once again declaring his love for his brother. For his brothers. For the men who fought him and accepted him and let him bask in their own love. For the circle that their story had become, from the sister’s wedding to the brother’s. He smiled, and he cried and he was not alone in sentiment or action. The brother smiled at each other and they understood.
The groom smiled, wide and loving and perfect, and knew that Night Vale was his home because his heart was in Night Vale. His heart was here, tied to an integral part of Night Vale’s being. He was home because they had made it their home, together. Here they were.
He turned to his husband and found that no scientific explanation would ever express his joy at saying that word. At having that word be his to say in his head or out loud, shouting it to the stars or to the government officials that were spying on them, and having it be true.
The husband smiled, his heart content, his world ordered. He saw the order of events, saw all the words and meaning of the past as it had lead them down to this moment; where they could now pave out the future. He saw the days ahead, all of those days they would have. He saw them as they were and as they would be, He saw them perfectly.
It was not a perfect love story but the love was perfect. And here, down three years and a half from an anniversary and a start, from a death and a beginning, from the start of acceptance and love, here it all was, all come together, all the hardships and distance eradicated and the love formed a bow to tie it all up, neatly.