"Hey Poupon."
"Hey what?"
"I love you."
"I love you too, Baby."
They were standing outside, throwing nine irons into porcelain vases. It was a cool, spring time morning, and a little bit of snow still sat on the ground. Viral was dressed up inside that beaten blue bathrobe, and Poupon in the same garb, but happy pink and new.
Shit was going well.
Sure, the word Simon still had a sting to it, and the two of them never seemed to leave the public eye. But there was happiness that hadn't been there before. The whole of the mansion seemed brighter, like the sun sat in the center of it, pushing out all the dust and pickled sorrow for something shiny and glad. More of the rooms were irresponsible. One had an indoor pool and another held a bowling alley, and Viral could usually find Poupon in his bed too, which was just about as irresponsible as it got.
They were happy together, with high hopes for a future full of children and love. Maybe it was impossible. But fuck impossible. Viral and Poupon were always doing things they weren't supposed to do. Either of them was willing to knock down those hideous road blocks with their big, pink bulldozer.
Spring was coming and it was bright.
"Hey Viral."
"Hey what?"
"I love you."
"I love you too."