I exit my bedroom and enter the dim corridor. The lights here haven't rested in a while, and I don't mind. Trailing closer to the end of it, the soft spoken sound of jazz music filters the air. It's coming from my television. There is a man in a suit with a saxophone between his lips.

I smile a bit, knowing that I hadn't turned it there. I rarely ever play music on my television, and when I do, it's not jazz.

I turn away from the television and look towards the kitchen. I am barely even able to process what I'm doing before my feet move and I'm walking in that direction.

I enter the kitchen and go to the fridge where I pull it open to a carton of juice. Grabbing it, I close the door and walk towards the cabinet. I eye it's contents before fixating on a small glass.

I pull the glass out and pour my juice inside. The coldness can now be felt at my palm as I am holding the glass. I bring it to my lips for a small sip. Swallowing, I close my eyes and enjoy the taste and the feeling of it's coldness sliding down my throat to enter my stomach. It makes my body wake up for a slight moment. I thought my shower would encourage me to at least get a bit of work done since I'd be done with house chores for the night, but it only persuaded me to enter my bed and curl in the comfort of the sheets.

With my glass of juice on my hand, I twist my body and head back over to the fridge. I put it back and close the door as I have at another tasteful sip. I loll my tongue out and slide it across my lips to capture the remnants of juice trailing out of the small space of my lips.

And suddenly, I notice the back door. It's cracked.

I calmly walk towards it, the sound of jazz music still playing in the background. I pull the door open and step onto the porch.

Right at the corner of my eyesight, I see Xyle. I turn my head to him and take in his entirety. The night is falling, so it gives his skin a slight glare, which looks beautiful. His eyes are gray, his pupils dilated as he sees me. The scar at his right eyebrow, the one that rests near the corner of his face and at the temple, looks more gorgeous than ever. An old wound. Parted between his lips is a white cigarette. To my surprise it's lit and smoking.

My eyebrows touch immediately. I've never witnessed him do this before. I close the door behind me and turn my body to see him fully.

"I had no idea you smoked." I speak, pulling my arms closer to me and hugging my body as the wind threatens me.

He pulls his hand up to his lips and takes the stick between his pointer and middle finger. He pulls it away and blows out the smoke, letting it filter the air and fly with the wind.

"I don't. I just wanted to smoke the last one. I've had a pack for a while now." He tells me as he pulls it to his lips to inhale the smoke again.

I step closer to him, hugging my body, and climb onto the cute porch couch I bought when I first moved here months ago. It's funny that I've never used it. I sit next to him and stuff my feet underneath his thighs to warm them up. I bring my glass to my lips and have a swallow of my juice.

He eyes me shamelessly, an eyebrow softly raising. He inhales the smoke one last time before he turns his head to the side a bit and blows the smoke from the edge of his mouth.

"Is that alcohol?" He asks me, his voice sort of accusing me.

I slowly pull the glass away from my lips and look at him. His eyes are short of knowing what to expect, so I lead gently. I lift my head closer to his, so close to the point where our forehead and noses touch one another.

I push my chin towards him and softly press my lips into his. I am amazed at how quickly he lets me take him. The remnants of cranberry juice still in my mouth and on my tongue, I push the pink muscle into his mouth and gently force him to take me. He does. He sucks me in and moves his tongue around in my mouth before I pull back to look at him.

His gray eyes spiral into my browns. "Cranberry juice." He says more to himself.

"Mhuum," I hum, lifting my hand and pulling the glass to my nose. I inhale the smell. "Good ole cranberry juice."

He smiles a bit as he looks at me. He lolls his tongue out to collect the moisture there before he lifts his hand to inhale his smoke again. He sucks it in and looks at me.

I smile, raising an eyebrow at the thought of him sitting here by himself. "What are you doing out here... besides indulging in lung cancer?" I ask.

He chuckles, catching him off guard. He quickly turns his head and lets the smoke out before he flicks the ash. "I'll put it out, baby."

He presses the bud of the cigarette into the tray and pushes it down so that the fire is extinguished.

"I'm having writers block." He answers my question from before.

He takes the ashtray and sets it beside himself on the floor and picks up the book from his side.

The black notebook with silver letters. The one he wrote in at his bookstore.

I smile, thinking about memories from before. "I'm afraid to say even a word about it. You were so cold the last time." I tease.

He can't help but let his lips curl into a smile as well. "I was so defensive back then. I really was a pain in the ass."

I agree. "Mhum."

His eyebrows furrow. "Mhum." He mocks me. "You agree? I was a pain in the ass back then?" He asks me.

I twist my lips to the side to have an attempt at hiding my smile. "Yes— well I mean..." I am at a lack of words. There is no way to defend him. "You were." I settle.

He fakes mad, clenching his jaw before he smiles. "I was happy back then. I was so fucking happy to just be around you. Even when I acted as if I didn't want to. I was hoping I'd see you the next day."

"Even when you called me pathetic?" I pout.

He smiles, confused. "I called you pathetic?" He asks.

I nod. "Yes. When I came to your bedroom and made a scene about that lamp." I remind him.

He nods, remembering. "I called your mouth pathetic, not you."

Potato. Potato— whatever the saying is.

"And you did make a scene about that lamp. Cheap shit broke the moment it hit the ground." He remarks.

I scoff. "It's glass... and I know you did it on purpose. There was no way possible I believed your lie about it falling." I tell him.

He nods, admitting it. "I'll admit. I broke the lamp on purpose."

I squint my eyes, smiling.

He raises his eyebrows. "It was either that, of your beloved God father's face."

I grimace. God father. Not after hearing what he did to Eleanor.

I push my toes further underneath his thighs. He allows me to, not saying anything about it.

"That fucker gave me a picture of my mother. I felt as though he was purposely trying to tick me off. All of our problems stem from the fact that he was a shitty person to my mother, and he gifts me a picture of her." He explains.

I hadn't known.

I frown, leaning closer to him and placing my head on his shoulder. "He's an ass." I say.

He scoffs. "I tried to tell you, but you wouldn't listen. You swore him to be an Angel."

I shake my head, lifting it to see him. "Everyone has something bad they did, so never did I think that, but coming from you, a person I didn't trust at the time, I took his side."

He smiles a menacing smile. "And now I'm the person you trust the most. How the turn tables."

"What?" I question. How the turn tables?

He nods. "You've never seen that episode of— never mind." He says, shaking his head.

I grin, looking away from him. "I do trust you, you know."

"Really?" He asks sincerely.

I nod, looking at the sky. "I never met anyone who dealt with my shit. Not saying that you have to when you date someone, but you did. You dealt with all my shit."

"My insecurities, my abstinence, my unsureness, my sadness, my stubbornness, you dealt with it all." I continue.

"It takes a special kind of person to do something like that. To be so selfless. You've put me before you plenty of times. You never get angry with me. You're so patient." I turn to look at him. "How are you so patient with me?"

He swallows, confusion lacing his mind. "What do you mean? You've said that before and it scares me."

"Why?" I ask softly.

He inhales. "Because you say it as though no one has ever showed you what love feels like. It's like... you've never been treated like a human besides your family and it pains me."

I frown a bit, looking at my hands. "You know how you said you're still pulling the pieces together about what happened when you were younger?" I ask and he nods. "So am I."

"Tell me, please." He asks gently.

I look into his eyes. "When I was with Sebastian, I thought what we had was love. I thought the same with Daniel, too. But as I see what love truly is, I learn that I was mistaken."

"No dates. No flowers. No hugs just because. No kisses just because. No assuring. No holding hands. No late night talks. No cuddling. Daniel only wanted me to touch him and vice versa... and I probably would have if he approached me in a way that made me feel okay to, but it was always "you never let me..." and by the end of his badgering, I would cry and not want to be around him. Still, I stayed with him because I didn't know he was abusing his position."

He shakes his head, his lips parting. "You've grown in a home filled with love. How could you be mistaken?" He asks softly.

I shrug my shoulders a bit. "I would often be shielded by my mother and father. They showed me love, but I wasn't allowed to experience a partner until I was a bit older. My father was strict on no boys. He said he knew how men could be. And given what my mother had been through with my biological father, she didn't do anything to persuade my father otherwise." I wish I listened to him about Daniel.

"I understand where his suspicions stemmed from, but it pains me to know you were so blind to relationships."

I nod. "No one liked Sebastian. I thought he was sweet, but he wasn't. I thought what we shared was normal. He gave me my first orgasm and I thought he was Hercules or something." I laugh, but Xyle doesn't.

I frown again. "Nelia even stopped being my friend for a while. She would constantly tell me things but I ignored her. When I showed up to her doorstep drenched in tears and not wanting to go home, knowing my mother and father would be able to tell, she let me in and comforted me. She didn't tell me she was right, she only listened and helped me get better."

"That's why she's always so hard on me."

I nod to him, voicelessly answering his question. "She knows of my previous poor judgement, so she tries to scare people away. Daniel was afraid of her, but he 'wanted' me so he didn't pay her any mind."

"Why do you say wanted that way?" He asks, placing his hand on my thigh.

"He wanted sex. I understand him, though. I was with him for a while and he didn't cheat, so he started to get frustrated."

He shakes his head. "No, don't excuse his animalistic behavior. He had no right to do what he did to you, sexual frustration or not. Any man that truly wants to be with you will wait and bow down to your fucking feet."

He gently squeezes my thigh. "I would have waited years." His voice and eyes are sincere. "I had zero expectations upon getting with you. I knew of your abstinence, and still, I wanted you. A truly dedicated man would wait no matter what."

"I'd get frustrated, too." I mumble. "Daniel did wait. A really long time."

He lifts his arm closer to me and lifts my chin. "I did a year. I willingly did a year. Before you, I went twelve months without sex. I handled my own. He should have handled his own."

I smirk, wanting to lighten the mood. "Would you have handled your own?"

"How do you think I got through? Every night I laid in bed and thought about you. It was never enough, though."

I smile. "Every night?"

His eyes light up. "You teased me with your body every day. You would wear tights, sit on top of me, kiss me. I felt like a young boy, stroking my dick each night and wishing I could fuck you."

Oh. How romantic.

I smile to myself as I bring my glass to my lips. "I did it once as I thought about you."

His eyebrows lift. "Really?"

I hum. "My abstinence started to hang on by a thread. I didn't want to seem like a whore for being so horny around you. I did it before you came over."

"I never thought you were a whore."

"I know, but I... I was thinking that if I didn't get one out I'd start humping your leg."

"I'd like that."

My brows touch. "Really?"

He nods. "The thought of it turns me on."

I smile. "I'm surprised your little guy hasn't fallen off by the way you use it so much."

He raises an eyebrow. "Little guy?"

"He's the mini you. We both know he isn't little. Comparing sizes, I don't know how I even take it. It hurts me sometimes."

He looks at me with shock. "Hurts you? You never tell me I'm hurting you. Why don't you tell me?" He asks, panic in his voice.

"It hurts, but in a good way. In the way that makes me come."

He doesn't believe me. "You better tell me when I'm hurting you. Seriously."

I pout. "Jeez, sorry, daddy. I will tell you when it hurts me."

He rolls his eyes and slouches down on the seat more. He pulls his right hand to rest at his crotch as he looks forward, making me stray my gaze to see what he sees.

"The stars have captured your eye." I say.

He hums. "Just thinking."

"About what?" I turn to look at him again.

He sighs. "I wonder what my life would be like if my mother was alive. She probably would have gotten married to my uncle by now."

"What?" I ask.

He looks at me and cracks a smile. "She started having an affair after my father reached a good number of women he cheated on her with. She actually fell in love with him, though."

I blink my eyes, shocked. "Really?"

He hums. "She was happy around him. She smiled and laughed. I have their photo album at my house. I took it from her things before Caliver looked through it."

I smile. "Have you looked at the photos?"

"Just a few. I always get distracted so I leave it." He laughs.

I follow his laughter with small giggling.

"I don't think I would have the company I have now if she were to still be here."

I frown. "You're a ceo. I'm sure you would have thought of something good."

He licks his lips. "Yes, but I would have never been ceo of Huxley Surveillance. I probably would have done restaurants or something."

I smile. "Restaurants?"

"Would have put you on the menu and had you every morning."

I flush. "Whatever."

"Something I want to check off of my list is preparing a full dinner and ruining the food as I swipe it away to place you on the table... or coming to you after a long day of work and just taking you against the front door. That really turns me on."

Now he has a list?

I hum, tugging at my lip. "Are you giving me suggestions?"

He smiles, shrugging and looking away. "That's only the beginning. I have so much to say. So many things I want to do... but I need to keep my mind steady."

I raise an eyebrow. "Steady?"

He pulls his book out again. "I'm having writers block."

I nod. "Okay." I say softly.

"I'm at a point in the story where I can't get pass, and I don't think I'm supposed to get pass. This is a part that needs to happen."

He lifts up and opens the book. He's careful not to show any of the writing to me. "Where should one start if they are unsure how to get pass something? This part..." he shakes his head and pulls his pen to his lips "it's burning me."

I sit my glass on the table before smiling. "What kind of book is it?" I ask, hoping he'd tell me.

He looks at me and I roll my eyes.

"Okay... I'm not sure how to help. Maybe try rushing things through it or something."

"This isn't meant to be rushed. I've taken my time the entire way, I will not rush now."

I swallow. "Well, is it a part of the book where a decision needs to be made?."

"Yes."

I shrug. "Well make it. Think about what the characters would do or say, and how they'd react to it."

He nods. "You think a decision can be made just like that?" 

"Why not?"

He shrugs, changing the subject. "What is your favorite shape?" He asks.

I think for a bit. What an odd question. "Hmmm..." I ponder "oval."

He chuckles. "Really?"

"Yeah. It's the shape people rarely talk about, so I've decided to give it some love."

He goes silent as he writes in his book. Five whole minutes. I say nothing as I don't want to interrupt him. Eventually, I lean closer to have a peak but he quickly closes the book and gives me a death glare. Jeez. I back off and wait until he's done.

He stands up and holds his hand out. "I want to celebrate."

I take his hand, confused. "Celebrate for what?"

"Getting past my writers block. Let's have champagne."

I furrow my eyebrows. "I thought you said no more alcohol."

He nods. "This causes for an exception to be made, unless you want apple juice? You have that."

I smile. "Apple juice sounds good."

We enter my house again and the sound of jazz music takes over us. I walk into the living room as he goes into the kitchen to make the glasses of apple juice.

My smile grows wide as I listen to the tune. "Jazz music is lovely. I had no clue." I murmur.

My feet carry me closer to the sound and before I know it, I am swaying my body to the way of the music.

I do this for a bit before he comes out with the glasses. His eyes are laced with amusement. "Dancing?"

I hum.

He sets our glasses down on the centerpiece. "Let's dance then, baby."

"As long as you don't try and grope me."

He fakes offended. "I would never."

We join together as one at the center of the floor and move our bodies to the music. This is therapeutic— one of his hands on my waist and the other holding mine.

I smile up into his eyes. "What's wrong, crimson?"

He shakes his head. "It's a bit hot in here." He dismisses it.

"It feels nice to me. Would you like me to turn up the air?"

"N-no, it's fine. Just dance with me."

I do, letting him sway me and even dip me.

"Your palms are sweating."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's okay. You just seem sick. Are you running a fever?"

"I don't think so." The song ends and he presses his lips onto mine. "Do you mind getting our glasses?"

I nod to him before turning away and grabbing our glasses of apple juice. I nearly drop them as I turn around, seeing him on one knee, a shimmering ring in a box in his hand.

I gasp, feeling my body heat up.

He smiles, his neck red, his chin up. "I love you." He clears his throat.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Being with you has brought me to enjoy life. I think about you as I wake. I think about you as I sleep... but most importantly, I think of you even when you think I'm not thinking of you. Marriage is a big step, but it is a risk I hope you're willing to take with me. I will care for you on the days you are sick, and well. I will care for you through my frustrations. I will care for you even when you wish I didn't. Please, let me be your husband, Celeste Persephone Abano. Will you allow me to marry you—"

"Yes!" I squeak, my eyes filled with unshed tears.

He smiles hard as he stands up and removes the ring