He stands in front of me, smoothing out the crisp white shirt and brushing away the non-existent dust. I watch him twist in front of the mirror as he checks, re-checks and checks his appearance yet again.
My hand slides over smooth, pale skin, his eyes fluttering shut.
I sigh to myself, wishing he would just get on with it and leave already, and stop putting me through this torture.
Slim digits twist in my hair and a hand cups my face.
"What do you think, Dom?" he asks me, swivelling around and showing off his new suit. He's got the braces on again; I wonder if he's purely doing this to spite me.
He slides the fabric off my shoulders, constantly whispering in my ear so that I have no chance of resisting.
"Is it smart enough? I wore something like this last time, maybe I should have worn a coloured shirt."
"It looks fine, Matt," I reassure him.
He looks up at me through thick eyelashes, deep blue meeting my own slate grey.
He narrows his eyes at me suspiciously. "Usually you have something more to say, Mr Fashion Man. What are you hiding from me?"
Toes curl tightly and eyes squeeze shut, his grip tightening on my arm.
I roll my eyes. "This time you aren't a fashion disaster. You can't really go wrong with a simple suit." He snaps his braces contentedly and pulls the pristine blazer from the bed.
My name falls from swollen lips, once, twice, three times.
He shrugs the ebony blazer onto his shoulders and it contrasts with the shirt like piano keys. He looks perfect in it.
Hips snap forward; his head flies back, mouth agape.
He runs a hand through his hair, rearranging it into a sensible style.
His soft hair filters between my fingers as I pull him closer.
His hand reaches out for the small, black box lying innocently on the desk. I scowl at it but mask my face when he turns back.
His voice spirals up into nowhere, higher and more powerful than ever before, fuelled by raw emotion.
I feel my eyes sting as he cups the box in his hand, nibbling at his lips. He cracks it open, revealing the sparkling diamond inside.
Shockwaves rush through us and he falls forward into my embrace.
"What do you think, Dom?" he wonders tentatively. "Is it enough? Will she like it?"
I shrug.
Warm torso pressed against warm torso, skin shining in the dim light.
"I'm sure she'll love it, Matt. It's not the size that matters, right? Just the person behind it."
A head pokes out from under the covers, sunshine glinting off fluffy, rich brown hair.
He cracks that stupid smile at me, with his stupid crooked tooth and his stupid sparkly eyes. And then his face falls slightly and I recognise the nerves taking over.
A giggle erupts from his skinny figure and I watch as he curls up into the mattress, pretending to sleep.
"What if she doesn't want to? What if she says, 'No'? Oh God, Dom, I hadn't even thought of that up until now!"
As much as I wish that would happen, it breaks my heart to see him fret so much over this. I wouldn't want him to be unhappy. Ever.
He wraps his thin arms around me and presses his head against my chest, claiming to hear my heartbeat.
"Matt, mate, chill out. You've seen the way she looks at you. Everything is gonna be fine."
I place my hand on his shoulder and he meets my eyes, the corners of his lips turned up.
Our eyes lock, his expression conveying more than words ever could.
"I can't wait to marry her, Dom. I love her so much, more than anything in the world."
He told me he loved me once. But that was a long time ago.