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five (two) golden rings?
Dec. 24th, 2018 12:36 pmIt's Christmas Eve and they're still decorating. Re-decorating, inasmuch as there were very many decorations before, because the cats have done their very best to topple the tree, late-purchased as it was, twice now (once Trick actually got stuck in the damn thing) and have brought down a good number of the baubles.
There's some bizarre holiday movie on the TV, though, and everyone's laughing. It'd be easy to snipe at each other if any or all were in a mood, over something as stupid as decorations and the cats, the stress of oncoming snow for Edgar or holidays in general for both Grantaire and Neil. Instead, it feels warmer than it has in months, and he turns from where he's choosing an aesthetically pleasing spot on the slightly disheveled tree for one of the ornaments to watch Edgar and Neil getting more fucking around accomplished than actually decorating.
It feels right, this moment, relaxed and unloaded, and it sort of just slips from his mouth.
"We should get married."
This is not how he planned it.
There are actual rings supposed to be involved, for one thing, hidden away in the room he rarely uses anymore. Several different length speeches that never sound right in his head, one version where they're all gathered together and another individually and private. Some where it's fairly romantic and spectacular (a few of these at Julie's suggestion, for she's crafty and he'd confessed his thinking to her back in July), and some more like this.
This isn't spectacular, it's not even something he was quite prepared to hear himself say, but it carries, and he bites his lip, suddenly anxious all over in a way he's not familiar with.
There's some bizarre holiday movie on the TV, though, and everyone's laughing. It'd be easy to snipe at each other if any or all were in a mood, over something as stupid as decorations and the cats, the stress of oncoming snow for Edgar or holidays in general for both Grantaire and Neil. Instead, it feels warmer than it has in months, and he turns from where he's choosing an aesthetically pleasing spot on the slightly disheveled tree for one of the ornaments to watch Edgar and Neil getting more fucking around accomplished than actually decorating.
It feels right, this moment, relaxed and unloaded, and it sort of just slips from his mouth.
"We should get married."
This is not how he planned it.
There are actual rings supposed to be involved, for one thing, hidden away in the room he rarely uses anymore. Several different length speeches that never sound right in his head, one version where they're all gathered together and another individually and private. Some where it's fairly romantic and spectacular (a few of these at Julie's suggestion, for she's crafty and he'd confessed his thinking to her back in July), and some more like this.
This isn't spectacular, it's not even something he was quite prepared to hear himself say, but it carries, and he bites his lip, suddenly anxious all over in a way he's not familiar with.
