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Summary
“Daniel Molloy, please give me my glasses.”
The old journalist beams and hands Armand’s glasses back to him.
“There.” Armand exhales, clasping his hands together. “Now, how does my hair look? Should I leave it up or down?”
Daniel just shakes his head, approaching him and tucking a stray curl behind his ear.
“We’re going to be late if you keep fussing.” Daniel wraps his arm around his waist and pulls him in for a chaste kiss. “You always look good to me. Everything will be fine, babe. You worry too much.”
(or Daniel and Armand grow old together.)