Roman candles that burn in the night…You are a shining light.
James Lester sat on his couch, spinning his glass of brandy on the end table. The remainder of the amber liquid sloshed gently against the crystal, but Lester's attention was focused on a small, flickering candle clear across the room. The candle had been a present from his younger sister, Jemima. A souvenir of her trip to Rome. Lester himself hadn't traveled much. He always had too much work to do…
You lit a torch in the empty night…You are a shining light.
Earlier that evening, Lester had come out of the kitchen to find that Connor had, without permission, lit the candle. The young man had received some yelling and a threat of being kicked out, and had gone out for a drink, leaving Lester in the solitude that he so loved…or so he had told himself since Connor had moved in.
You have always been a thorn in the side…
Lester couldn't recall a single day that Connor hadn't made him angry. He was always leaving his things out of order, letting that little brute run around the house chewing up everything in its path, leaving his socks in the breadmaker…But annoying as those habits were, Lester did enjoy having someone else around. He could recall his younger days, before he became so enthralled with his career. He'd had friends and girlfriends. He went to parties. He missed that. And Connor brought those memories back to life.
To me, you're a shining light…
Lester's eyes wandered away from the candle and landed on the bottle of brandy sitting next to his glass. There was an inch of liquid left in the bottle, which had been three fourths full when he poured his first glass. This registered in Lester's mind, and he cast a lazy glance at the hall mirror. God he looked awful. His tie was loose, the top three buttons of his shirt were undone, his suspenders were hanging from the waistband of his pants, and his hair was no longer neat and tidy. He was most definitely and most irrefutably drunk. The front door opened and Connor entered. He turned to closed and lock the door, and turned back to see Lester looking over the back of the couch. Connor paused. He had never seen Lester in such a state of disorder.
"Is this my fault?" Connor squeaked out.
"No," Lester drawled, his voice unusually relaxed. "Come here. Sit. We should talk."
Once again, Connor paused. Was Lester about to have a drunken confession? Oh god. Connor wasn't sure he could handle hearing about how Lester's puppy ran away when he was seven. He'd never be able to look at Lester the same. Nevertheless, Connor joined Lester on the sofa. Lester took a gulp of brandy, returned his empty glass to the end table, and flopped his head back onto the couch.
Silence.
Connor shifted in his seat. "Are we going to talk?"
"We should…"
Connor waited.
"But we don't have to."
"Alright then…" Connor settled back into the couch.
Lester closed his eyes, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.
Yeah, you light up my life.