It’s simple. Or at least it should be. Walk down the aisle. Say the I Do’s.
A fifteen minute ceremony. A marriage. No honeymoon yet. They’ll be home by midnight, curled up on the couch together in their pajamas to watch those final two episodes on Netflix they’ve putting off.
Fifteen minutes. A ring. A kiss. The rest of their lives.
Simple, giant things. Earth-moving things. Life-changing things.
“I don’t deserve you,” Connor whispered into Oliver’s jaw the night before. “I don’t deserve this,” into Oliver’s cheek this morning.
Always, Oliver replies, “You do. You do.”
At the end of the aisle, Connor stands beside Oliver, his hand clasped to Oliver’s. A lifeline. An anchor.
“You don’t understand, Ollie,” Connor had argued when Oliver proposed. Months ago. Down on one knee. Smile and eyes bright, shining - open. Happy. “I don’t get to have this.”
The ring on Connor’s finger adds years to his life.
Love. Life. Happiness. He wishes, hopes. Wants. More than anything, wants.
Connor holds Oliver’s eyes. Oliver holds Connor’s heart.
The officiant reads through the standard lines, the vows.
Softly, Oliver says, “You deserve this. You get to have this.”
Connor can’t quite believe it, but with Oliver, he’s desperate to.
“I do,” Connor says, first steps toward the rest of his life.
Oliver smiles, brilliant and beautiful and blinding. “You do.”
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