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“Look what came in the mail,” Pran says, plopping down on the couch beside Pat who immediately slings his arm around his waist to tug him closer. He shows Pat the oversized envelope with their names penned across it in swooping calligraphy.
“Pa is really going all out, huh?” Pat grins, grabbing the envelope and running a finger roughly under the flap to open it. Pran winces and grabs it back to save his eager puppy of a boyfriend from ruining what is probably a masterpiece of a wedding invitation.
They examine the piece of lavender cardstock together, reading and rereading the words cordially inviting them to Ink and Pa’s wedding. It’s illustrated beautifully with flowers and a silhouette of a couple holding hands whose height difference makes Pran think someone must have drawn it from life.
“I wonder what Ink thinks of all this,” Pran muses with a smile.
He turns the card over and finds a note scrawled on the back in Pa’s handwriting.
One invitation means we want you to come together!
Pat’s grin slips sideways when he sees the note. He wraps both arms around Pran’s waist and sets his chin on his shoulder with a familiar pout.
“We can go together, right?” he asks Pran. “You know my dad has chilled out a lot over the years. He won’t dare make a scene in front of Ink’s family.”
Pran nods and sets the invitation aside.
“My mom won’t be there,” he points out. “It’ll be fine.”
Pat squeezes him tight until Pran protests and shoves him away. Not very far though. Pat takes the opening and flops down on the couch with his head in Pran’s lap. Shaking his head but smiling, Pran combs his fingers gently through Pat’s hair in quiet concession.
“Your mom has chilled out a lot too,” Pat muses. He reaches up to stroke the edge of Pran’s jaw. “Do you ever think about our wedding? They’ll have to be in the same place then. Unless we do it twice.” His eyes brighten. “Wanna do that? We can have two parties too. Twice the presents.”
Pran laughs.
“Since when are we getting married?” he asks, still sifting his fingers through Pat’s hair. He loves how silky soft it’s gotten since he decided to grow it out more.
“All our friends are married,” Pat pouts.
“Just Korn and Wai,” Pran points out.
“And now Ink!” Pat insists.
Pran’s fingers still. He thinks about it—really thinks about it—and realizes Pat has a point. They’ve been together longer than anyone else they know, living together in some capacity for most of that time, and they’ve proven they can outlast any necessary secrecy or physical separation life has thrown at them. Their lives have been tangled together from the very beginning; why shouldn’t they tangle them legally after all they’ve been through?
Pat shifts himself upright and Pran realizes he must’ve given something away with his expression from the way Pat grabs his hands and presses them to his chest. Pran can feel both their hearts beating a little faster.
“Pran,” Pat says in that soft tone he uses when he’s being so sincere it feels like sunbeams might pour out of him at any second.
Pran doesn’t need him to say more. In some ways, he’s been waiting for this day ever since they graduated. (Pat tried proposing to him before that, but Pran told him not to be an idiot. Besides, it wasn’t legal then.) He isn’t about to let Pat get the whole story to himself later.
“Hang on,” Pran says. He feels oddly breathless. His face is hot. But he pulls away from Pat’s hold and digs in his bag for his earphones case. When he straightens, Pat is frowning at him, but the frown melts into an almost comically wide-eyed look the second Pran opens the case and pulls out the ring he’d bought after his first real building commission.
“Wait!” Pat says just as Pran is about to speak. Before Pran can react, Pat is scrambling off the couch and running to their bedroom. There’s a muffled crash and Pran starts up only to sink back down into his seat as Pat returns with a small black box clutched triumphantly in his hand. He’s grinning so hard that Pran can’t stop himself from laughing because he’s realized what’s happening here.
“First one to propose loses?” he suggests jokingly.
Pat rolls his eyes, but he’s still grinning.
“Let’s lose together then,” Pat says, He shoves the coffee table aside and pulls Pran off the couch so that they’re kneeling on the rug together.
Pran gets the idea. He can’t stop smiling as he kneels properly on one knee, mirroring Pat as they show each other their respective rings.
“You know I never lose when I play against you,” Pran says, lifting an eyebrow.
“What kind of proposal is that?” Pat cries. But he extends his hand and lets Pran put the ring on his finger where it fits perfectly.
“Do your worst,” Pran says with a laugh. He gives Pat his hand in return, waiting for the flowery words Pat has probably been practicing just as long as Pran has been expecting them.
Pat’s fierce eyes soften. He doesn’t say a word as he slides a gold band carefully over Pran’s knuckle. When he’s done, he lifts Pran’s hand to his lips for a reverent little kiss.
Pran can’t find it in himself to ask for more. What words could either of them say to encompass everything they feel for each other?
“Let’s go to the district office tomorrow,” Pat says suddenly.
Pran is about to laugh again, but he catches the look on Pat’s face. Truth be told, he feels the same pull. It’s been too long as it is.
“That’s one way to keep our parents from stopping us,” he says, allowing Pat to pull him to his feet. He eyes Pat with a grin. “What about your parties? And twice the presents?”
Pat scoffs. He looks down at the ring on his finger with starry eyes before turning the same look on Pran.
“Marrying you is the only gift that matters,” Pat says, sincerity and love shining forth. And while Pran would normally pretend to gag at such earnestness… He feels the same way.
This is the rest of their lives. And he wants that to start as soon as possible.
He holds out his hand and Pat takes it immediately.
“Why wait?” Pran murmurs. “The district office is still open.”
He dissolves into laughter as Pat starts tugging him toward the door.
“Stop laughing!” Pat cries. “We have to go now before they close!”
Pran is so happy, he doesn’t bother wiping the tears from his eyes as he stands his ground and makes Pat face him.
“You have to prove you can carry me over the threshold first,” he teases, batting his eyes and reaching up to squeeze Pat’s bicep.
Pat doesn’t hesitate. He bends to scoop Pran up into a perfect bridal carry, leaving Pran truly breathless and scrambling to throw his arms around Pat’s neck.
“If it will get us there faster,” Pat says with a wink, “I’ll carry you like this the whole way.”
He swoops in to press kisses to Pran’s cheeks as he bursts out laughing again, as helpless in the face of Pat’s open adoration now as he’s always been. They giggle and peck at each other until Pat can’t get the front door open on his own and Pran slides out of his grip to help him.
When they come home again, Pran is the one who carries Pat inside. After all, he can’t let his husband have all the bragging rights.