Archive of Our Own

Over a hundred Objects that had confessed their love to you—or at least considered you a close friend—yet here you were, waking up on Valentine’s Day without a single date planned. It wasn’t like you couldn’t have asked any of them out to dinner, or even just a night in at your house, but once the gifts started showing up, flowers, chocolates, cards, you assumed at least someone was planning on asking you to go out with them. Checking your phone, you had a few kind texts from those who lived further away, sappy sentiments and well wishes that brought a smile to your face. You considered sending a few messages, just to see if anyone was free for the night, but it was a Saturday, you couldn’t imagine a single restaurant not being booked solid already.

Instead, you found yourself stuck scrolling through social media, contemplating rolling over and going back to sleep. You could order takeout for lunch—somehow that seemed less pathetic than ordering it for dinner—and spend the day watching bad RomComs. Or maybe thrillers, something that would keep your mind from wallowing. Just like every other weekend, you thought to yourself. In your distracted state, the buzz of your phone scared you enough to drop it, landing with a painful thump against your eye. With a few curses you sat upright, pressing against the pain to dull it. At least no one saw your embarrassing accident, but you could already feel a bruise forming. Maybe it was for the best that you didn’t have any plans tonight.

Checking the message that had startled you, it was from an unknown number, giving you a time and location, along with a wardrobe suggestion. Formal, comfortable shoes. Jewel tones always look good on you. Your heart raced, knowing exactly who was behind such a cryptic invitation. The last time you had spoken with him, Jon planned to be working overseas for many weeks, but it wouldn’t be the first time he surprised you with an unexpected visit. For a moment you felt guilty, wondering how you could have possibly forgotten about him, but that wasn’t really the case. He was busy, you knew that, and you never put pressure on him to give you anything more than what he offered freely. Even if his visits weren’t as often as you’d like, he was consistent, dedicated in a way that made the distance seem insignificant.

The time you were supposed to meet him seemed a little early in the day, or at least early to someone who considered waking up before 10 in the morning akin to torture, but you were too excited to give it much more thought than that. It had been so long since you had any reason to dress up, you felt yourself fumbling through the motions, hands shaking with an excited nervousness. Catching your reflection in the mirror, you saw a reddish purple half-circle under your eyebrow, with a matching mark under your eye. With a little makeup, the bruises mostly disappeared, invisible to anyone who wasn’t aware of the self-inflicted injury.

Your phone buzzed again while you were searching for the coat you must have left your car keys in, as there were no were else to be found. It hadn’t been that long since you last drove, but they weren’t by the front door or coffee table, and you had just cleaned the clutter from your kitchen last week. Momentarily pausing your search, you saw you had another message from the unknown number.

Driver will be arriving shortly.
Stop worrying, just sit back and enjoy the day, yeah?

Not that you had any doubts before, but the way you could hear the message in his voice brought a smile to you face. Maybe you should have been a little concerned at how predictable you must be, but with how observant Jon was, there wasn’t much you could hide from him even if you tried. You wanted to respond, to tease him with a photo, to make sure he was truly safe and well, but you knew the rule; never respond. It was there to keep you safe just as much as himself, creating a layer of anonymity, of deniability, though he had already broken it a bit by sounding so personal. Saving the search for your car keys for another day, you stepped outside, keeping your eyes peeled for...What kind of car would be picking you up? That question was answered when a black sedan came to a slow stop in front of your driveway.

A man stepped out from the driver’s side, opening the rear passenger door and gesturing for you to enter. “You must be Mr. Wick’s guest.”

“I-I guess? Yeah.” So formal, it made you a little uncomfortable. Was this setting the expectation for the day? He had to know you better than that, know you’d be just as happy sitting at home with the comfort of a blanket and a fire.

Hesitantly, you stepped inside, settling into soft leather seats. Though understated on the outside, something you appreciated as you really didn’t want the extra attention, the interior was pure luxury, all smooth edges and deep wood accents. Sitting on the seat next to you was a letter, written in Jon’s unmistakable handwriting, a little messy with swooping letters, ended with a signature you were convinced he had practiced endlessly until he was happy with it.

You must have accepted my invitation if you’re reading this. I wasn’t sure if you already had plans, but in the off chance you weren’t already being treated to the day you deserve, I wanted to plan something special for you. My driver knows where to take you, just sit back and enjoy.

Regards,

J

There was a small drawing next to the signature, something you could only assume was supposed to represent you and Jon. He really was a terrible artist, but you found the attempt so endearing. Though you’d prefer to have him by your side, you trusted him enough to let yourself relax. The driver remained silent, occasionally looking back through the rear view mirror to check on you. Through the tinted windows, you tried to watch for landmarks, anything familiar enough to tell you where you might be going, but you hadn’t traveled much out of your own suburb since moving in after your aunt passed and you inherited her house. Being a prisoner in your own home for half a year thanks to the Dateviators certainly hadn’t helped your ability to explore, either.

Signs for streets and highways you recognized the names of turned into a desolate stretch of road lined with nothing but orchards. When the scenery lost your interest, you replied to a handful of new messages on your phone, turning down a few last-minute invitations out that seemed more rooted in desperation than actually wanting to spend time with you. It was something you had noticed more often, friends and lovers coming by when they wanted something from you, flitting away from your life once they got it. Even if you knew it wasn’t realistic to carry on a hundred relationships in a healthy way, it created a doubt that had burrowed under your skin, reminding you of its presence when you had too much time alone to think. Soon enough, orchards turned back into signs for a major city the next state over, just across the river that separated it from your home. You were starting to feel a stiffness in your body from how long you had been sitting.

The car came to a slow stop, pulling your attention back to the present. Folding Jon’s note, you gently nudged it into your wallet while the driver came around to open the door for you. With a quick glance around, you realized you were at the top of a very tall parking structure, overlooking the river that rippled gently with a chill wind. A light dusting of snow crunched under your feet as fresh flakes landed and quickly melted against your face. You tugged your coat tighter when a sharp gust seemed to cut right through it.

“Up the stairs, please.” Your eyes followed where his hand guided you, to a set of narrow stairs that curled up a raised platform. A helicopter pad? Your confusion was growing, but you did as you were instructed, taking the steps carefully to the top. In the center of the pad was a small table, holding only a single sunflower and another note, weighted down against the wind. Lifting the sunflower to admire it closer, you were smiling before you even looked over the note.

My sun, my light,

I’d travel anywhere just to feel your warmth and see your glow.

You’ll never know the joy you’ve brought into my life,

Your smile, your kindness,

I wasn’t truly living before I met you.

You had only heard about his love poetry, but whenever you asked to see it, he’d become evasive, finding a way to change the subject. Even if these were just his thoughts laid bare, they read like poetry to you. If anyone were to see you up here, they would assume you had gone mad with how wide you were smiling. A few words remained to be read on the note.

One more favor to ask, sweetness.

Look up.

You weren’t sure where you were supposed to be looking, but you examined the surrounding rooftops closely, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jon. Maybe this was his way of spending the day with you, close in spirit, but safe behind physical distance. That was the cost of your relationship with him, but it made the time you did have together so much more special. Instead, there was...nothing. Even the streets below were quiet, despite being within blocks of downtown. You waited a few moments longer, mesmerized by the falling snow. It was accumulating quickly, sticking to your coat and hair and chilling your bare hands.

With a final glance towards the river, you turned to leave, walking directly into Jon’s waiting arms.

“Wha—You’re here?!” Your initial shock only lasted a moment before you wrapped your arms around him, laughing with surprise. He was slightly more prepared for the weather than you were, dressed in a long wool coat and leather gloves.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Jon seemed genuinely surprised, taking a step back to get a better look at your face. He had half-expected you to already have plans, he knew you stayed close with a number of former Objects, and it wasn’t like you had a commitment to each other. Either way he would have been happy, knowing someone was making you feel as loved and treasured as you were, as you made him feel. There would be the added benefit of hearing about your date at a later time, but experiencing it first hand was still his preference.

“No, I just… I thought you were busy for another few weeks. Your note just said something special, not you.” Of course you had hoped to see him from the moment you received the text earlier that morning, but you hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that you would still be spending the day alone. When Jon felt you shivering, he pulled his coat open to wrap it around you, placing a quick kiss to the top of your head.

“I’m not special enough for you anymore?” It was said in jest, but there was a hint of vulnerability in his voice. You frigid fingers pressed against his back as you pulled him closer, ignoring the leather harness of his gun holster, leaving a chill he could feel through his shirt.

“You’re the best surprise I could ask for.” A compliment that would go straight to his head, but it was deserved nonetheless. You buried your face into this chest, breathing deep the scent that brought you comfort while he was away. Warm ginger and sugar. There was still a question on your mind, one that was easy to ask with him right in front of you. “Why did you ask me to look up? I didn't see anything.”

“To keep you distracted.” It was a simple enough answer, one you didn’t feel the need to dig any deeper into. You were surprised, delightfully so. Despite the color that warmed your cheeks, your hands were still icicles, a fact that was quickly making Jon uncomfortable. In a quick movement behind your back, he peeled his gloves from his hands, handing them to you as a command, not a suggestion. “Our reservation is soon, but we still have to walk a few blocks. Put these on to warm your hands up.”

Your mind immediately took a different path, which must have been written all over your face if the blush on Jon’s face was any indication. Looking around, you saw that the driver had already left you alone, fresh tire tracks in the snow leading to the exit. Might as well say the thoughts at loud, you figured.

“I can think of a few different ways to warm up my hands. Want me to show you in the stairwell?” He was far from immune to your flirtations, and as much as he was intrigued by the scandal of potentiality getting caught in whatever scenarios you were thinking up in that clever head of yours, he was more worried about losing the reservation that had taken significant work and pulled strings to achieve.

“Gloves. Now.” The authoritative tone of voice did nothing to dull the need you felt for him. With a huff, you took the leather gloves that were now pressed more firmly against your chest, shoving your hands inside until you felt the warm wool lining start to melt the chill that numbed your fingers to the bone. It was...quite nice, actually. The second note was slipped discretely into your wallet, along with the first. Another memento, a small reminder of how he felt for you.

A quick but gently handle caught your jaw, turning your face slightly as he squinted his eyes to focus.

“Is that a bruise on your face?” You tried to pull away, but his hand held tight. The intense concern on his face made you look away. “Did someone do this to you?”

“No, I—” Did you really have to admit this to him? The emotion in his voice melted your hesitation. It was obvious he was acting out of care, which made it slightly easier to reveal your embarrassment to him. “I dropped my phone on my face this morning. Is it really that noticeable?” He brushed his thumb against the lower bruise, careful not to disturb the makeup that concealed it.

“No one but me would ever see it. Guess I’ll just have to keep a closer eye on you.” Was he teasing you on purpose? He had to be.

Despite the snow, the trek to the restaurant wasn’t as bad as you would have feared. That was, once you were able to keep your hands to yourself. Your relief at seeing him safe once again was something you couldn’t contain, pulling his mouth to yours the moment you were shielded from the wind and prying eyes. The kiss was needy, a mixture of teasing and longing, threading your fingers through his hair as you nipped at his bottom lip. Seeing how important his plan seemed to be to him, you reluctantly cut it short. The mutual need for air was also rather convincing.

Your destination was an intimate, private booth that overlooked downtown from the tallest building in the city. Here, you were simply two lovers enjoying each other’s company. No one knew who you were, and the chance that either of you were followed was slim to none. For the first time, it almost felt like things were normal. It took another quick kiss before Jon started to let his guard down, his shoulders relaxing while a slight smile warmed his face. Seeing that subtle happiness in someone you cared so much about was reward enough for all the secrecy, the distance, the unknown.

The act of actually ordering dinner left you daunted. There were so many options, many of which you weren’t even sure how to pronounce, and with no prices to help guide your decision you were left looking helplessly at Jon while the server appeared at a table nearby, surely stopping to take your order soon. These were the times you felt a sense of inadequacy creep into your mind, wondering if he felt embarrassed by your lack of culture. It was different when you knew his supposed worldliness was a sham, but now that he had actually traveled, was learning languages and seeing sights you had never dreamed of, it made you wonder if he was losing interest in you.

You knew this wouldn’t last forever if it ever risked your safety, that was something he made clear when he realized there was still something more between you, something you didn’t have with any of the others. You didn’t take the time to understand the others like you did him, you didn’t love them like you loved him. That had always been enough, at least for you. If he kept coming back to you, to your plain home and your simple care, that must mean it was enough for him, too. Right?

“Looking a little lost in your head, sweetness.” Was it that obvious? You took a sip of your drink while you tried to settle your face, eye scanning over the menu once more. If anything, it had only become more incomprehensible.

“I’m just...I don’t really know what to order. I’ve never been somewhere so nice before.” You hoped he wouldn’t push further, you didn’t want to ruin such a nice night with your sudden self-doubt. Where was it even coming from? You wanted this, wanted to feel normal after a lifetime of feeling like the odd one out, and now that you had it, all you could do was doubt that you deserved it, that it was real.

“Trust me?” As if you even had to think about the answer.

“Always.” Jon closed both of your menus as the server approached, ordering for both of you. Maybe it should have been a relief, but it only made your doubt grow.

“Don’t think it was picking dinner that upset you. What’s going on?” The concern in his voice made your eyes sting with tears you refused to let fall. Sometimes you hate how well he could read you, even if you were quick enough to lie through your teeth, he’d never buy it. You reminded yourself that honesty begets honesty. If you wanted more form him, you would have to be open yourself. With a quick glance around, you lowered your voice so only Jon could hear you.

“Is it safe? To talk—openly, I mean.” His eyebrows furrowed for a moment before he understood your meaning. A devious glint in his eye was all the warning you had before you were pulled into his lap, your back sitting flush against his chest.

“Like this, it is.” Jon’s voice was a low rumble in your ear, nearly making you squirm against him. You had to stay focused, even if you knew he was intentionally teasing you, that didn’t change the impact it had on you. Relaxing against him, you forced yourself to be courageous.

“It just feels like you’re closing yourself off again. I know you can’t tell me everything, but you’ve been away longer and longer, and you haven’t told me anything.” You took a deep breath, halting the stinging tears in your eyes. “Are you getting bored of me?”

The shift in his demeanor was immediate, his arms wrapping around your waist as he buried his face into your shoulder. He had been more distant recently, Jon was well aware of that. Between the fire, the loss of his partner, the complete collapse of the agency at his hand, and the addictive draw of losing himself in his work now that he was so close to achieving his goal, he had to be honest with himself about where he was prioritizing you. It was obvious he had been neglecting you, he hadn’t seen you so wrapped up in your own head since before he was ever Realized. He considered you fearlessly confident, seeing you like this broke his heart. To be bored of you, the person who loved him unconditionally, was unthinkable.

“What would ever make you think something so silly?” His voice was soft, reminiscent of Scandalabra’s. It was an odd comfort to hear.

“Sometimes, I think...I’m just a convenience for the others. An afterthought. I’ve felt like that for a while, then of course today Tina and Tony were the only two who wanted to make plans with me, but I know it’s only because they broke up again and don’t want to be alone.” A part of you wondered if you would have agreed to meet either of them if Jon hadn’t planned all this. Even if you regretted it later, you really didn’t want to be alone, either. “I know what happens if your life gets too dangerous, it’s what we agreed to, I’m just worried that it’s happening already.”

Maybe it should have been obvious to you, through his actions today, the strange hoops he jumped through to ensure your safety, and the fact that he always came back to you, that your worries were unfounded, but once you started spiraling it was difficult to see reason through the lies your mind created. Jon felt the heat of rage flush his face, quickly replaced by guilt. He had often wondered if it weren’t incredibly selfish and cruel the way he relied on you for a break from the violence, without knowing when—or if—he would ever feel safe enough making your relationship public. Was he not also treating you as a convenience, showing up whenever he pleased, bringing nothing but potential danger to your life?

“Sweetness, I...I know I’ve been gone too long. I’m working on my own now, and I’m closer than ever to my goal, but...I’m not proud of how I got there. After the last few time you saw me—” The truth, Jon. “—I regretted letting my work get so close to you. First I come over dazed and smelling like burning bodies, then three days later I’m back on your doorstep covered in blood and...things are only getting more intense, more bloody, I don’t want to keep making it your problem.”

“So it is happening. Your life is too dangerous for me to still be a part of it, and you picked today of all days to break that news to me?” You didn’t bother hiding the venom in your voice. He could be a little dense at times, but there was no way this wasn’t intentional. When you slid away from him, using the smooth leather to your advantage, he tried to snake his hand around you to pull you back, but you swatted him away.

“No! Gods, no. Knowing I have you to come back to is the only thing keeping me going most days. I just don’t like bringing my work home with me. You know what I do, I don’t want you to see me covered in it. The time I get to spend with you should be like this, not you cleaning me up.”

It took a long moment before you risked looking at Jon, knowing that just seeing his face would break your angry resolve. When you finally braved a quick glance, the look of absolute adoration in his eyes melted you instantly.

“You’re not just a convenience to me. You’re my everything. I’m not going anywhere.”

God damn him. If you one day learned he could read your mind, you wouldn’t be the least bit surprised. He knew exactly what you needed to hear, calming that ugly voice in your mind that wanted you to doubt yourself. Your fears had amounted to nothing, leaving you feeling deflated and foolish. All worked up over nothing, when you should have known Jon would never be so cruel to you. A long silence stood between you before you finally found your words again, as quiet as they were.

“...Thank you.” Watching your anger dissolve, Jon took the chance to pull you back to him, holding you so tight you couldn’t pull away if you wanted to. “For the record, I like taking care of you, seeing you actually let yourself relax. It’s nice to see you let your guard down for once.”

“Could say the same for you.” You almost wanted to argue that you were always relaxed around him, but if that were true, you wouldn’t have let an insidious anxiety put a damper on the evening. “I can...visit more often. Now that I’m picking my own work. Don’t want to hear any complaints about blood in the house, yeah?”

“I suppose I love you enough to look past a crime scene in my shower.”

What started as just an affectionate kiss against your neck turned in teasing bites, your hand petting up his inner thighs while his was under your shirt, his thumb working small circles against your hip. In a quick move he had you back in his lap, rolling his foot from heel to toe in a way that made you rock against him while his fingertips breached your waistband. Your hand flew to your mouth to stifle the sounds threatening to escape your lips, making Jon laugh. It was so rare for him to take control like this, and never in public, but you couldn’t let it go any further here. Regretfully, you placed a hand on his to stop him.

“Maybe we should have skipped dinner and gone straight to the hotel room.” You hummed in disagreement.

“The anticipation is part of the fun.”

-  -  V  -  -

“You seen my wallet, Sweet? I remember seeing it on the dresser…” A pet name turned nickname, shortened and repeated until it felt just as comfortable as your own name. Normally the verbal affection would have warmed your heart. Today, though, you only found it irritating.

“I can barely keep track of my own stuff, you can’t expect me to keep track of yours, too.” You weren’t sure what exactly put you in such a sour mood, snipping at Jon as you quickly searched through dresser drawers for the item in question while he was turning the rest of your bedroom upside down. It might have been the series of miscommunications about your plans for the day, or it could be the fact that you were very close to running late for said plans. You would have been just as content staying home rather than driving over an hour to a winter light festival, but the idea had been interesting to you before your mood turned.

“Don’t have to help if it’s too much trouble for you.” He regretted his words the instant he heard them out loud, sighing to himself. It wasn’t your fault his wallet had grown legs and walked off somewhere. Fuck, why couldn’t he have been more prepared, he’d known for weeks where he was taking you and when, and the day still snuck up on him. He dared a glance over his shoulder, just in time to see you shove the dresser drawer shut hard enough to rattle everything sitting on top.

You glared at him as you turned away, bracing a hand on your bed while you crouched down to look under it. Even if you were late, it had become a point of pride to you to find it. You could have offered to pay any expenses, extending an olive branch to the man facing the brunt of your wrath, but that would have required thinking before acting, a skill you had never been known for. Pulling out your phone, you shined the light slowly across the floor, finding the wallet...and its contents, spilled corner to corner under the bed.

“Found it. Can you grab the stuff that made it to the other side?” You heard the familiar shuffling of dress pants as he walked past, his silhouette visible when he kneeled across from you. Grabbing what you could reach, you blindly tossed the contents on top of your bed for Jon to organize as he pleased. How did he carry all of this around with him? Most of it looked like business cards and scraps of paper with names and phone numbers, things you were certain were a relic of his time as a hitman. You hand brushed something glossy, making you pause as you pulled it into the light.

It was a photo—of you. It was creased and faded, clearly kept in his wallet for some time now. From the angle it was taken, a sunflower was blocking a small part of your face, but your vibrant smile was still fully visible. Snowflakes dusted your hair and shoulders. You weren’t looking at the camera, but slightly to the side of it. Whoever took the photo was standing well above you, but when you tried to recall the it being taken, you couldn’t remember a camera being involved in the moment.

“Jon...how did you get this photo?” It was two years ago today that Jon had surprised you with a night out to dinner, in the same city you were planning on heading tonight. You heard his footsteps stop behind you, an amused huff escape his lips.

“Surprised you never figured it out. Look up.” Figured what out​? You sat back and looked up at him, wracking your mind to make sense of the camera motion he was making with his hands. It took a quick glance back at the photo in your hands before it fell into place.

“You had someone take a picture of me that night?” Jon nodded, taking it from you to smooth the edges. Watching the care he held the photo with, the absolute love on his face, you wondered how many times he had held the photo the same way while he was away from you, working for weeks on end.

“Worked with this private investigator who specialized in long-distance shots like that for his clients. He seemed a little too happy to take a photo that wouldn’t be ending a marriage or ruining a career. Poor guy.” You cocked your head at him, as if that would somehow help you understand his logic.

“But...why not just ask for a picture?” You’d give him anything he wanted, even risque if he asked for it. Hell, you were certain Betty would jump at the opportunity to help you with a boudoir shoot. Maybe that would be an idea for different day...

“I wanted this moment, a few seconds after you read the note I left, when I knew you’d be expecting to see me. This is how you looked at me every time I walked through the door, like I lit up your whole world. Sometimes...I just needed to see that when I was away.”

“Jon, that’s...that’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.” For a moment, you were simply stunned. After all this time, he could still catch you off guard by how oddly sentimental he was. It reminded you of his homemade Date-A-Dex, how proud he was to show off how he had finally made a friend—you—his only friend. His loneliness never seemed to bother him, but it was part of the tension between you now. You held out your hand, asking for his help to stand again. He obliged, gently pulling you to your feet. Something about the past tense he used bothered you. “Do I...not look at you like that anymore?”

“You just did. Just takes a little more work to surprise you now.” Wrapping your arms around him, you pulled him into a tight hug. Whatever remaining frustration you felt towards him melted away, you could never be mad when he was being this sweet to you.

“I’m sorry for being such a grumpy ass.” You would be the first to admit that things had been...difficult since you were abducted. Jon was home, all the time, after giving up his life as a hitman, cashing in a few favors to ensure your safety. It was a dream come true at first, but his protectiveness started to feel suffocating. It put you on edge, making arguments over minor things a common occurrence. “I still have all the notes you’ve written me over the years. The one in my wallet is a little faded now, but...I wasn’t truly living before I met you. You still light up my world, Jon. I love you.”

It took him a moment before he recognized his own words quoted back to him, making him smile wide. He had tried to write some flowery poetry—he was a poet, dammit—but the only words that he could commit to paper were his genuine feelings towards you. Jon pulled one of your hands up to his lips, placing the softest kiss against your knuckles before turning your hand and doing the same to your palm. You brushed your fingers against his cheek, making him lean into your touch.

“All is forgiven, darling lover.” The sudden switch to Scandalabra’s register caught you off guard, reigniting the same feelings that likely led to his wallet disappearing under the bed in the first place. “Now get your ass downstairs, we needed to leave 15 minutes ago.” A quick swat had you laughing as you rushed away from him, grabbing your car keys from the hook they now lived on. At least some things had changed.

The sun was just beginning to set by the time your found a parking space, somehow in the same parking structure you met Jon at two years ago. Your life may not be poetic, but it sure as hell rhymed sometimes. There was nothing poetic about the hourly price to park here, but it was easier that circling block after block for street parking. Though you were walking east, you caught the reflection of deep reds and oranges contrasting with navy clouds in the windows of the office buildings you passed. Jon’s fingers laced through yours, bringing your attention back to the present ahead of you. Window fronts you passed displayed art and sculptures for sale, combinations of wires and string lights that took the form of sealife. Even from a few blocks away, you could see a rainbow of lights indicating the path you were encouraged to take. It reminded you of county fairs you would visit over summer breaks when you were young, but it had been years since you last went to one. A youthful giddiness spurred your feet on faster, nearly dragging Jon along until you had no choice but to stop for a crowd.

This was the first time going out since the abduction three months ago. Of course there had been errands, trips to the grocery store and walks around your neighborhood, but those were minor compared to walking around block after block in a mostly unfamiliar city, where anyone could recognize either of you. Even at work you still had the facade of safety, a belief that your high office and multiple layers of security would protect you. While you were still moving it was easier to ignore, but waiting for your turn to enter a glass skybridge that crossed the distance between multiple buildings, you found yourself rolling on the balls of your feet while Jon’s tapped a steady rhythm. You were anxious, terribly so, and you believed he was, too. Your home was safe, you were never more than a room apart, and he had access to an entire armory. Out here, you could be separated in the blink of an eye, and that terrified you both.

“Jon, did you bring one of them?” That was another argument you had had, when he didn’t see how ridiculous it was to have two guns and a knife concealed under his wool coat just to go on a walk. If you could choke down your fear without bringing some kind of security blanket along, why couldn’t he? That wasn’t true, though. He was your security blanket, your shield against the world. Unless it was work, you didn’t leave the house without him anymore.

“Just a 0.9 mm.” A handgun, something he had shot a thousand times before. It was like an extension of himself at this point, he felt naked going anywhere without it. For a moment he held his breath, waiting for a passive aggressive sigh or an eye roll, but the reassuring squeeze of your hand in his surprised him.

“Good. You won’t need it, but...good.” With a deep breath, you willed your feet to hold still. Before long the crowd had moved on, dispersed to the dozens of different attractions trailing along the glass corridors.

One in particular caught your attention, a display of lights that reacted to sound whispered into a microphone. You watched a few young children whisper nonsense into the microphones, screaming with delight as the flower-like Wish Amplifier flashed a myriad of colors in response. According to the installation’s lore, any wish whispered into the microphone was amplified by being translated from sound waves into light waves, which traveled further. Grabbing a free microphone, you turned your back to Jon to whisper your wish without him hearing.

I wish my life with Jon never changes.

You watched the amplifier shiver as its tendrils lit up blue and green, flashing orange once it reflected your voice saying his name. Though the color of his name had never crossed your mind before, orange certainly made sense.

“What’d you wish for?” Jon rested a hand on your shoulder, letting his fingers trail down your back.

“I can’t tell you!” That wasn’t explicitly stated in the lore of the art, but you were pretty confident it was an unspoken rule. He grabbed the microphone from your hand, turning his back on you while he whispered his own wish to be manifested. You watched the flower shake again, red and purple trailing from the microphone to the edges of the amplifier. It took a fair bit of self control not to ask him the same question he had asked you, instead grabbing his hand and walking on until you found another display that caught your attention.

You were stopped suddenly when Jon’s focus landed on a display of extravagant gowns, costumes from the local opera program along with their origins. Imagined Worlds was the name of the display, a love letter to different stories told in the opera house over the decades. Some appeared rather traditional in color, a mixture of creams, stark whites, and baby blues, but other gowns came in silken fuchsia and hot pink with black lace. You knew that Scandalabra was little more than a persona Jon hid behind, but sometimes he took interest in something that made you wonder where the persona ended and his true interests began.

Every direction you looked, there was something new to draw your attention, art installments of flickering and pulsing lights meant to evoke certain thoughts or feelings, some interactive while others were intended only to be viewed and contemplated. As the initial crowd dispersed throughout the city from the end of the glass skybridge, you were able to take your time, slowly making your way to the waterfront. The temperature was dropping quickly with the sun fully set, giving you an excuse to cling to Jon’s side.

Tall displays of lights that reminded you of dandelions lined the waterfront, and you felt compelled to stop and admire every one. They led you along a worn path, not quite sand but not quite dirt, where you could see the brilliant lights illuminating a nearby bridge, reflecting against the water below it. The way a gentle breeze disturbed the surface gave the reflection a life of its own. You walked as far as you could to the edge of the shore, the sound of live music and joyous crowds fading into the background.

Jon trailed behind you, watching the orange glow of a nearby light display cast your shadow long into the water. He was trying to find the courage to put into words his feelings for you, feeling silly for needing to wish for something that came naturally to you. It took either blinding passion or complete exhaustion for him to be brave enough to say it in the past. Writing them down was one thing, but speaking them…

Hesitantly, he took your hands, turning you to face him.

“Sweetness, I...I need to tell you something. Been trying for years to get these words off my chest, but…” His mouth felt dry, and his heart raced in his chest. Even after all this time, all you had been through, he couldn’t shake the fear that you might still reject him. He knew it was unreasonable, you had seen the absolute worst parts of him and you didn’t even flinch. No more excuses, Jon. “I-I love you.”

There. He had finally done it. Each millisecond he waited for a response seemed to drag on for a small eternity, reminding him of his fear of you finding out the truth about Scandalabra. The way you smiled at him melted it all away, and he wished he had a photo to capture the moment forever. It wasn’t fair, he thought, how your smile could light up the darkest parts of his soul, while just a single tear was a knife through his heart. When you cradled his face in your hands, the relief could have made him cry himself.

“I know.” You brushed your thumb against his cheek. “I’ve always known, but it’s nice to hear you say it.”

There was a brief moment, an exhale of a breath you felt you had been holding for years, before Jon’s lips were on yours. The kiss was sweet, gentle, a silent expression of countless apologies and thank-yous. Doubts faded into hopes as the world around you faded into the distance. Just the two of you, in a moment all your own.

“H-hello? Can I ask you a question?” For a moment you both froze, realizing you had let your guards down. Jon’s arm flexed as he instinctively reached for the gun holstered at his hip, but you stopped him. As the person walked closer, you saw they were young, a college student at the oldest. “I-I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m in a photography class and we came down here to practice using slower shutter speeds to capture the lights but I saw you two and I thought it would make a good picture and I wanted toaskifyouwantedit. Sorry if that’s weird. It’s weird. Sorry...”

Dimly illuminated by the nearby displays, you could see he had a camera around his neck, his hands nervously fidgeting with the focus. His eyes were cast down at the ground, shifting between your feet and the ripples of the river behind you. It was easy to remember being in his shoes, confidence non-existent and afraid of your own shadow.

“That’s not weird at all, I think it’s sweet. Can we see it?” He nodded quickly, handing you the camera once he untangled the strap from the hood of his sweatshirt. The screen was small, but you could didn’t need to see the details to appreciate the composition. It was just your silhouettes, the outline of your faces standing out against the illuminated waters behind you. Something about the intimacy it evoked made you gasp; what else did you need in when you had him by your side? Leaning the screen toward Jon, you watched his reaction mirror yours.

“Us against the world.” His voice was soft, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” You handed the camera back to it’s owner, watching his face shift between hopefulness and apprehension. “This picture is beautiful, we’d love to have a copy of it.”

The way his face lit up made you smile, remembering all the times you wished anyone would have encouraged the hobbies you enjoyed rather than pushing you towards hobbies they thought you should like. You gave him your email address, encouraging him to stick with photography before he ran away to rejoin his class, a beaming smile on his face.

“I think we almost pass as a normal couple, Jon. How boring.” You turned back to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. It was all you had ever wanted, to have the kind of love that everyone else seemed to have. Whatever you had with Jon was far from normal, but you wouldn’t give it up for the world.

“I love you, sweetness.”

“I love you too, Jon.”