We visited a museum for a school field trip when I was eight. We were strictly told that we "can look but cannot touch". My teacher then proceeded to tell us how pieces of art must be preserved so everyone can cherish them at the peak of their beauty. I was an obedient boy and kept my hands to myself throughout that trip, but I did not have to try so hard not to touch the artworks. As I marvelled at those exhibits, I understood what my teacher meant. Those beautiful creations needed to stay like that and be just that, and they would lose their essence otherwise. I was awestruck by both their splendour and fragility. I understood that such pieces need to be looked after and cared for to prevent them from breaking. Watching my husband sleep peacefully beside me felt just like that museum trip—only more real and infinitely more beautiful.

It was a week before our last semester in college ended when I proposed to him. We were not an item nor have we been going out. I have always harboured a little crush on him though, but I was so afraid to tell him because—well, you would also fear him if you met Abiel. He feels like the embodiment of winter. I was not at all planning to propose to him that night. We were just chilling on a Friday night like we always do with our dogs heaped all around us. As we were taking swigs from our beer bottles, the subject of plans after college came up.

"You're going to turn out like those 'humanitarian pigs' aren't you?" Abiel asked, sipping his beer.

That assumption annoyed me. "Hell no!" I replied. "Please kill me if I turn out like that."

Abiel just chuckled and said, "Only if I'm still around by then."

Even if it was a joke, I did not like hearing such negativity from him. After that incident with his godmother—for which my parents grounded me for a week—Abiel began to grow happier than he used to be. We became closer as friends in that short period of time than we were for three years. "Hey, you're not thinking of suicide are you?" I asked, surveying his reaction as I placed the bottle of beer I held on the table.

"No," he replied, raising a brow. "What I meant is that I cannot stay in the US for long."

"What?!" I was so shocked by this that I yelled aloud and startled our dogs. "But why?"

Abiel sighed and looked at me directly. "My student visa is bound to expire. I would have to leave within 60 days after graduation." He explained.

"I don't understand," I said. "You were born here, right?"

"Abiel Graham-Lecter was born here, Morrie," he said. "Abiel Urbonas wasn't. I would not risk going against the law by declaring myself as Abiel Graham-Lecter just so I can stay. I'd lose all the academic merit I've worked for."

I took my beer from the table and drank. The spoiled brat in me was passionately protesting. Nothing would keep Abiel from breaking if he returns to Lithuania for good, and I sure as hell do not want that to happen. Abiel is the only friend I have ever had. My mothers kept me sheltered for most of my life, and given my family's status, there has always been a gap between me and other people. I did not want to lose him.

"There should be a way," I muttered. "A lawyer would know, I could pro—"

"Verger, has it ever occurred to you that I want to go back to Lithuania?" He cut me off with a scowl. He called me 'Verger', meaning he was losing his patience with me.

"Of course not!" I shouted in my ire. "Damn it, Graham-Lecter, we both know you're not convincing anyone in this room by saying that."

Abiel glared daggers at me. "What is it to you then?" He asked flatly but coldly.

I sighed to calm myself. "With your family in the US, there's no stopping you from breaking if you go back to Lithuania."

Abiel sneered and drained his bottle in one gulp.

We fell silent as we both busied ourselves by petting our dogs. Our conversation became an argument again. We argue so much that we might as well be a married couple.

"That's it!" I exclaimed. A lightbulb lit up in my head.

"What's it?" Abiel asked, furrowing his brows at me as he opened another bottle.

"I know just how to make you stay here legally." I replied with a smile as bright as my idea.

"Oh yeah? Tell me." Abiel said as he drank from the newly-opened bottle.

"Marry me!"

As soon as I said that, Abiel blew the beer out of his nose and mouth. I did not know whether to laugh or be annoyed at his reaction.

Tristan and Dawn got wet with beer and scrambled off of our laps to shake themselves dry.

"What the hell, Verger?!" Abiel yelled, slamming his bottle on the table. "You're out of your goddamned mind."

"But it works," I said as Abiel wiped his face with his sleeves. "You marry me, you get a green card and you stay."

"Whatever," he muttered, standing up abruptly to clean the mess he made.

I could only watch him do so.

Abiel was never keen on romance, dating or sex, and seldom displays emotions. I could stay up all night recalling the names of all the people in the university who asked him out but whom he turned down. Yes, there were a lot ever since we were freshmen—men and women, students and faculty. I cannot blame them. There is a certain elegance about Abiel that you just cannot help but awe.

His face is difficult to look away from, even other people would say, with steel-blue eyes, high cheekbones, aquiline nose and grim-set lips. Standing at six feet two inches, he has a desirable height. When his gunshot wounds were still healing, I would help Abiel change his bandages. I always thought he was just a bit skinny, but he actually has a fine physique moulded by gymnastics and ballet. I used to think that if I were a photographer, I would want him for a model. He may indeed be physically attractive, but that was not enough to convince myself that marrying him is a brilliant idea. Above all, Abiel is intelligent and highly intellectual. Knowing his parents, I would not be surprised. Even I depended on Dr. Lecter's studies as a Psychology undergraduate. We argued a lot, that is for sure, but I liked having those arguments with him, especially the ones in which serious ideologies were at stake.

As I watched Abiel clean up the beer that has spilled all over the place, I considered how it will be like to marry him. My parents would not be highly approving of our match, but I usually get my way with them. His parents, of course, would be glad their son can stay. I thought about the nights we would spend just discussing things in bed until one of us would drift off to sleep. I would prefer a night-long discussion over sex. I fantasized our wedding night would be just like the first time Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung met; we would talk for more than thirteen hours straight. He has not yet given me a proper answer to that poor excuse of a proposal, but I began to look forward to a married life with him.

"I'm going to bed now," Abiel said decisively when he was done and began to march to his room.

"Hey, take your shirt off," I called after him. "It's wet. You'll catch a cold."

He obeyed without a word and threw the beer-soaked shirt right into my face before proceeding to his room.

"Lazy ass," I muttered as I threw his shirt into the laundry basket.

I was up early the next day. Last week, our dogs stayed with Abiel and his dad in Virginia for the weekend. It was my turn to take them home that day. I was eating ramen for breakfast when Abiel walked out of his room, lazily scratching at his left ribs where he was shot some months ago.

"Hey," he greeted and stretched. The way he stretches looks like he is about to perform ballet.

"Hey," I greeted back, slurping the noodles.

Abiel frowned at me. "Be thankful I'm not eating breakfast with you, I'd find that rude."

"Whoa, Lecter, that's a real threat." I said smirking sarcastically.

He only clicked his tongue and poured himself coffee. He sat in front of me and sipped from the mug I gave him for his birthday after he wrecked his old one in a fit. "Morrie, about last night," he began.

"I'm serious about it." I said, looking at him squarely. "Marry me."

Abiel gave me a serene smile. "I really appreciate that you're willing to do that for me just so I can stay with my family."

I shrugged. "Who knows, maybe I want to marry you for selfish reasons."

Abiel slightly furrowed his brows and tilted his head to one side. He was apparently confused as to what I meant.

"Ugh, damn it, Abi," I passed a hand over my face to cover a blush. "You're so goddamned dense."

That confused look on his face remained as he watched me finish my ramen. Even when I stood up and prepared to leave, Abiel kept looking at me like that as if he wanted me to elaborate further.

"I'd want your answer on Monday." I said, ushering our dogs out.

Abiel managed to wave at me before I left. I wondered if he would give me an answer come Monday.

When I told my parents about it over dinner that night, Mom gave me almost the same reaction as Abiel.

"Mordred, what were you thinking?" She asked, almost choking on a leek.

I squirmed in my seat. Up until this day, I do not like being called Mordred. It is a constant reminder that, like Mordred in Sir Thomas Malory's Arthurian tales, I should be my father's bane.

"They can divorce after two years when Abiel gets the green card." Ma replied for me, but that was not what I wanted to say.

I must have looked alarmed upon hearing that, because my mothers stared at me in disbelief for a moment until the disbelief melted into a semblance of understanding.

Ma smiled. "Abiel must be as charming as his fathers," she said more to Mom than to me.

Mom sighed. "Morrie, do you have a ring?" She asked me flatly.

I grinned and shook my head. It was as good as an approval.

"We'll shop for a ring tomorrow," Mom said. "If you're going to propose, you're going to do it properly."

I can barely suppress my mirth that entire weekend. When I returned to our apartment that Monday, though, I was too tensed.

I was so nervous that I was spacing out on the couch that morning. I snapped out of it when the door creaked open and Abiel walked into the apartment.

"Hey," he greeted with a smile.

"Um, hey," I greeted awkwardly. "So, uh, how was your weekend?" I asked, gingerly fumbling the ring in my pocket.

"Good," he replied brightly as he bent down to pet Dawn. "We visited my sister's grave yesterday."

"Abigail's?" I asked. Abiel seemed to like visiting the dead girl.

"Yeah," he answered with a chuckle and lifted Dawn into his arms. "I had so much to tell her."

I chuckled nervously. "Yeah? Like what?"

Abiel shrugged nonchalantly. "That I'm graduating next week with Latin honours. That you picked up a new dog last Wednesday." Then he added with a calm smile, "That I'm getting married."

I gasped and chortled. "You did?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I told her I'm marrying Mordred Verger."

I could not believe my ears and gaped at him for a few moments before I burst out laughing. "Oh gods," I said.

Abiel set Dawn on the floor and raised a brow at me.

I could not help myself and swept him into my arms. "Oh gods, I'm the happiest man alive!"

He laughed and returned my embrace. "I don't think I deserve you though." He whispered as he rested his chin on my shoulder.

"Oh shut the hell up, Graham-Lecter!" I exclaimed as I shoved him away. I grabbed his left hand and slipped the ring into his finger. "There you go."

He lifted his hand to look at it and smiled upon realizing what I did. "You know I can just divorce you." He said flatly.

I shrugged. "I don't care. You're staying and that's what matters."

He smiled and placed a chaste kiss on my lips. "Thank you for everything, Morrie."

I felt my face heat up and I knew I was blushing to my ears.

Abiel laughed out loud "You look like a tomato with long roots on top!" He said and tousled my long hair. It is annoying how I am older than him but he is taller.

We got married the week after our graduation day. The wedding ceremony was difficult to push through as Abiel and I kept giggling while we stood there. We agreed that it was the dumbest and brightest idea I have ever had. Though it was no crime at all, our wedding made headline for Tattle Crime. "Murder Husbands' Son Marries Verger" was the exact text. I remember Abiel and me laughing our heads off to sleep the night it was published.

I was twenty-six, and Abiel was twenty-three. Ten years have passed since then, and he did not divorce me. I grinned at the recollection as I laid beside him.

Abiel's eyes fluttered open. "Quit staring at me in my sleep." He groaned. "You're waking me up." He said and shifted to lay on his back.

"Sorry, can't sleep," I replied.

He groaned again and pressed an arm on his forehead. "Should I treat you for insomnia?"

"No," I replied. "I don't have insomnia."

"Well then, go to sleep." He muttered.

I scooted towards him and placed my head on his shoulder.

Abiel sighed, knowing what I wanted, and placed a hand on my head. "Seriously, did I marry a dog?" He said as he stroked my hair.

I yawned. "Just shut up and pet me."

"If it's going to make you sleep then," he muttered and continued to run his hand through my hair. I was beginning to drift off to sleep when he spoke. "If Micah pursues ballet, will you let her?"

I groaned. "Of course," I replied. "I'm doing private practice as a psychiatrist and I juggle it with the Verger business just fine. Our daughter is brilliant, she can do that too."

Abiel fell silent for some moments, but I can hear the gears of my husband's mind whirling as he absently stroked my hair.

"What, don't you trust our Sugar Plum Fairy?" I asked.

He chuckled. "She was mad at me when we were rehearsing this evening."

I smirked. "I bet she'll make an angsty little fairy tomorrow. You make it up to her, okay? We can't have her cracking up the Nutcracker."

Abiel laughed. "Alright, Daddy, fine."

I smiled. "Good night, Pa."

"Good night," he said as he rested his cheek on the top of my head.

It was the night before our daughter's first ballet recital.

Abiel went back to petting me and I fell asleep soon enough.

Author's Note:

Hey! Thanks for reading this although Abiel's narration ended last chapter. So glad you did.

Fun Facts:
-Morrie is 5'11" he cut his hair short a year after they got married because it gets to Abiel's face when they sleep.
-Morrie is obviously sapiosexual. Abiel is asexual.
-Micah is seven years old here. Michel is not yet born.
-They would visit Hannibal at least twice a month. Hannibal would have slips of the tongue and call his granddaughter Mischa.
-Deep inside, Alana has grown fond of Abiel because Morrie acts more mature around him.
-Margot likes Abiel a lot and does not hide it.

I wrote this epilogue mainly because my ego would not let me finish this story without mentioning my name. Yeah, guess my name.

I hope you liked the entire story, including this. Please tell me what you think and leave a review!