Cecil's tendency to talk with his hands was a habit that he has had since he was young. When he spoke to others, his hands would gesture wildly out in front of him, moving with every word that he said. When he was in his recording booth at the radio station, he often leaned forward in his chair, hands waving the air in front of him.

This evening however, the radio host was clenching his hands tightly in his lap, knuckles turning white with the pressure he exerted on them. He took a break from squeezing his hands every minute or so to wipe the nervous sweat from his palms onto his black pant legs. He had loosened his purple tie a while ago, trying to cool down without disregarding his professional dress.

He was about halfway through the radio show now and they were preparing the tape for the weather. He knew his opportunity was quickly approaching, which only increased his nervousness. He knew Carlos would be listening to his show, as he always was. He can picture his boyfriend now, keeping himself busy at their home. He was likely making dinner in their small apartment kitchen, hair pulled up into a loose bun to keep his long curly hair from his face; or perhaps at his desk in his home office, crouched over a mess of papers with a radio playing somewhere behind him.

"Listeners," Cecil begins again after a pre-recorded word from their sponsors, "I have a story to tell you."

He takes a slow deep breath, trying to compose himself before he continues.

"It is a story that takes place as we speak. In my small apartment toward the edge of town. My sweet Carlos is at home right now, listening to my show as he normally does," here, Cecil laughs quietly and runs his fingers through his hair nervously. "He is probably wondering why I am telling a story about him on the radio but well, he will understand soon."

"Carlos has decided that he should stop whatever he is doing and go to our bedroom now. He is extremely confused, but he'll do it anyway. Once he gets there he'll go to my night stand and open the top drawer. He um, may have to shuffle some things around. I know it's sort of my junk drawer so it may be a bit difficult to find. He should be looking for a- for a small black box. And-"

Cecil pauses for a moment, trying to collect himself. He wipes a tear from his eye quickly.

"And he will open the box. And he will know that I love him. He will know that I want to spend my life with him. And- and he will know that... I want him to marry me."


Yes I know Valentines isn't a good thing in Night Vale. I just really wanted to write something really really sweet. I just really want them to get married, okay?