Brian opened his eyes and looked at the clock. 7:30 in the morning.
He wanted to go back to sleep—it was certainly a day to do so—but he couldn't.
Dragging himself out of bed, he let the aroma of coffee entice him. Pouring himself a cup, he felt himself waking up just from the first sip.
He flipped on the TV and groaned. He didn't usually like this sort of fanfare, but—it only happed once a year.
Suddenly, the phone rang. "Hello?"
"Brian!" The voice couldn't have been more desperate. "Are you watching the parade?"
"Yeah, Mikey," he groaned. "I have it on right now."
"Keep watching," was the response. "I have a feeling you might see something you like—or love."
He couldn't help wondering what Michael was talking about, but when the camera cut from the parade to the commentator booth, his eyes, half-open even with his second cup, flew open. Was—was he seeing who he thought he was?
"So," one of the commentators was saying, "what are you planning to do with yourself when you leave here?"
"That's easy," was the response. "I'm going home—going home to the person I love."
Brian knew just where the booth was, having attended the parade several years ago. In no time at all, he had arrived, and sneaked over to where the three sat.
At that time, the cameras were cutting in for the next shot. "So, do you have anything to be thankful for this year?" came the question.
"I do," Brian said, stepping in, much to everyone's surprise. "My Sunshine's coming home." Taking Justin's hand, he hit one knee. Out of his pocket came a familiar box. Opening the lid, he gazed into those blue eyes—those blue eyes welling with tears—and asked, even as his tears started flowing. "The offer's still open, Sunshine," he whispered. "Will you marry me?"
All the commentators could do was look on, as Justin struggled for words. He gazed into Brian's eyes, flashed a million-watt smile, and whispered:
"Yes, Brian, I'd be honored to marry you."