Our Love.
Like any other night, for what has been already five long (yet not by far nearly enough of what they envision, hope and crave for) years together, they lay together in a mess of white sheets tangled up, matching the way in which they have grown so accustomed to sleep like. The pale color of the sheets contrast with the slightly olive skin of one of them, and the now slightly tan complexion on the other one. The fact that they are now so close to one another makes it even more noticeable how the rich dark brown and the soft dark blonde mixes so uniquely with the almost pearl-like tone of the bed's dressing, but then again, that also happens every other night. And that's their thing, every time they feel the proximity, the closeness –whether it is from the sound of a husky, low, sexy or a cheery, high-pitched, ecstatic voice; the strong smell of musk, sweat, cologne and the virile aromas that are theirs naturally; the sense of the other just breathing in and out; and of course, the feeling of strong arms that hold them so tenderly and full of love, pulling towards oneself, desperate to dissipate any kind of distance between one another– has always the same result. The grin.
It's not just any grin, you know, it's a special grin. A smile. A smile that is so unusually seen, so hardly witnessed and so rarely experienced. It's a smile so complicated to achieve that it takes months, years even to master. And dedication, passion, need, love. Pure and utter love. Devotion, , for sure. But mostly love: natural, organic, passionate and endless love. That's why it's so rare. You rarely see two people who feel this way for one another, and actually have the chance to address these feelings. Two people like them: William Horton, a 24-year old young man who found the love of his life at the tender age of 19; and Jackson Kiriakis, a 27-year old young man who devoted his life to his one and only when he was only 22. Two people like so many others, the difference being that they found true love on their best friend. Some call them lucky, some call them "meant-to-be", some just call them regular people who found love, and some just don't call them at all. Out of hatred, perhaps if they were to move to a more narrow-minded place in the world; out of ignorance, maybe a couple of people; out of indifference, how cares?; out of envy, without a doubt. Even if you love these boys to death, you couldn't help feeling sometimes jealous of them, of their love, of them finding their other half, their meant-to-be, their happily ever after at the beginnings of their lives. Luck. Fate. Divine intervention. All used to so casually put an explanation for whatever good comes to oneself. In their case, they gave up a long time ago. Was it luck that they found each other? Sometimes it felt like it, sometimes it felt like they were making their own luck. Was it fate? How can someone have so much goodness in their fate, and some be just born to die. Doesn't make sense right. Divine intervention? Maybe God saw these two lonely boys and decided to let them fill the world even a little bit with they're massive love, but then again, it always comes to: Does it matter why? We're here. We love each other. Why do we need an explanation? I just want to be close to you and love you like no one else in this world could.
I guess you could go on and on about how much these two love each other. You could write papers, essays, books, whole collections and encyclopedias, but you would still be missing the essence of their love: the need. The need, not to be near each other (which granted, they felt so powerfully all the time), to always let the other know just how much he is loved, how much he is treasured, cherished, how much nothing would make sense if it weren't for the other. That's the need. The need to hold each other close and whisper in their ears while making sweet, tender and breath-taking love: You are the best thing that could have ever happened to me.
As they continue to wander in the corridors of their dreams, while still holding on to one another, they both have the grin and continue to feel the need. This has always happened during their nights together (save for the occasional and cursed business trip). They just cannot and will not get enough of the other. They've done everything that a loving couple does to deepen their commitment, to solidify their vows, to secure their promise of 'til death do us part. And yet they still feel like they have so much more they want the other to have and they just wish there was some way to let the other feel and have more, even though both realize that they no longer hold anything that isn't the other's as well: mind, body, soul, life, everything.
Unfortunately perennials are not meant to be found while sleeping, explaining just how when you lay down, you'll certainly find a way to rise again. This time, we get to see the blonde locks, now illuminated by the sunlight penetrating the blinds, move rather subtly while he starts to run his hands softly along the stretched arm around his chest. The arm of his best friend, his partner, his lover, his husband. While he does so, he so adorably giggles when he feels his bedded partner sigh at the touch. Four years and we still feel like this when we touch. Is all he can say under his breath. He turns around slowly because he's dying to see the illuminated face of his other half. So beautiful. He says when he realizes just how incredibly perfect his husband looks when the sunlight hits him delicately along his face and half-naked body. His features, as perfect as they can get, have only gotten more breathtaking with age. His hair, as vital and fresh as it always has. Always inviting him to get his hands in it and just let loose of his desire for him. And, of course, the grin. The smile both of them know its meaning. I hope you're having sweet dreams. That's all you deserve. And I know for a fact, that right now, my love, you're dreaming of me. Hope I'm begin good to you. Obviously, staring can only give you so much, so naturally, when it just wasn't enough, the blonde-haired man just wanted to feel the soft skin on his lover's face and feel each feature under his fingertips. And so he did. He ran his fingers from his partner's hairline to his precious nose, to his full ruddy lips to his perfectly shaped chin and down his soft neck. God I love this man.
Sonny: I love you too Will.
And Sonny opened his beautiful brown eyes. Eyes that are beyond beauty for Will. They're sacred to him. They're one of the things he lives for. Because those eyes hold Will's everything inside. Will's heart and soul. They set his whole body on fire when glancing at him. They burn so brightly when they're making passionate love and they are so soothing and calm when they're going through emotional stuff.
Will: Good that you're awake. Although I would have preferred to continue looking at you for a little while. You're just so, perfect to look at. The perfect sight.
Sonny: Nice to hear that. Even though I will lovingly have to disagree. I can think of a lot of better sights.
Will: Like?
Sonny: Your smile, your eyes, your face, your lips, your eyes, your hands, your eyes…
Will: So, my eyes?
Sonny: Your eyes. They are like the waters of your soul. I have learned so much from them. And when I think like I know every shade by heart, you show me a new color.
Will: And it will always be like this. Because guess what. Every day I fell a little bit harder for you.
Sonny: That's nice to hear. Since you're spending forever with me.
Will: Forever's not nearly enough.