Arpeggios: 2
Two years have passed since that day, etched so firmly in your memory, and you did indeed get what you wanted most; after you reasoned, grumbled, and practically begged, he complied with enough eagerness in every movement to suggest that he eventually would've performed the act even if you didn't want it, but the drive behind his every decision in the process made it better, in you eyes. He had warned you, of course, that it might be painful, the first time and every time since, but you had been the furthest thing from mad.
Two years since that day, you are lying in bed with him and reflecting on the past. He stirs, and the arms around your waist tighten slightly as he becomes conscious. When he groggily mumbles his nickname for you, your eyes finally flicker open to land on his face, where a slight smile rests. One of his hands finds yours and its counterpart finds the side of your face to be a comfortable place to rest, deft fingers, calloused from years of holding, playing, and caring for his instrument, tracing along your jaw as if you're some sort of treasure. He pulls your intertwined hands up so they're visible, and you can see the flash of gold that makes you grin among the fingers there.
Two years ago since that day, one since it's slightly more ceremonious continuation.
Sollux Captor, your spouse officially since one year ago today, pulls you into what he deems is kissing range and silences whatever you were about to say, like he's been doing since you've been like this, together. The near cheesiness present in this situation is overpowered by the overwhelming happiness you're pretty sure you're both feeling. There's been so much that you've been through together since you've met; so many grueling rehearsals, bombastic concerts, and hours spent trying to deal with it all. You'd be lying if you said it hasn't been stressful, but it's been worth it every step of the way. You know a year isn't a long time for a couple to be married, some would even still call it newlywed territory, but you can't find the spite to care because at this moment, you are with him, and you're happy.
He hugs you to his chest, tucking your head under his chin, and whispers things, sweet things that do not at all help your blushing epidemic, and finishes his little complimentary tirade with a murmured anniversary wish. You smack his arm sleepily and tell him not to mumble, which makes him burst into laughter, which you can't help joining in on.
As your mirth die away to be replaced once again by calm, you fix him with a gaze that's been called nigh unstoppable, one that most would find a bit disturbing because of the hue of your eyes, but he doesn't look away, and he never has. You doubt he ever will.
You won't either.
He's sometimes inclined to hide his own unusual eyes behind a garish pair of red-and-blue glasses, but you've "informed" him that when it's just the two of you, there's no need for him to disguise the anomaly he uses to see. It's times like these that you cherish, when you can simply see him without all the trappings common society calls for. Sometimes you think you hate society, but you always end up realizing that it's more the other way around. Sometimes, normality won't accept you, so you have to wear a mask to get through the day. Once the evening hours are set, however, you know he'll be waiting to assuage your worries, and you'll be ready to do the same.