The images I saw in between the chords were of Clark, Daniel, and the mundane art of Men Dressing for an Occasion. Cufflinks and collars oh my, and a kiss from Clark to Daniel, to land on the good professor's cheek.
A long drive with the top down on a spring day. Handholding and laughing, and being at the kind of peace that can only be found when the love of your life is a mere glance away. A restaurant, an air of mystery... a dimming of the lights...
A question... an answer... and more...
I spoke of the tale to my friend, who listened to the song and cheered with me. Cheered for love conquering all, despite the odds pitched against it; cheered for optimism in a world where it makes no sense to search for the light at the other end of the long, dark, day.
For in the end... don't we all write and dream of and for love?
It's all there is... it's all there ever was...
And herein, below, is my clip, (in exactly 500 words, as we NEVER do it the easy way, do we?) of what, to some, might be the end of the journey, but methinks to Those Who Know, we share the secret that it's only the beginning...
"And for you, sir?" the waiter asked Clark.
"Same," Clark said, handing over menus and gulping water. Napoli was a sweet Italian restaurant in New Amsterdam, made fantastic by its authentic food and chaotic architecture. A series of small, intimate rooms in reds, golds, and blues weaved from the front door to the kitchen. A larger room stood central, for dancing to the live band's tunes.
"You all right?" Daniel asked from where he sat at their table for two.
"I'm great." Clark tried to smile, wiping his hands on the linen napkin.
Daniel tilted his head, dark curls spilling across his forehead and oceanic eyes inquisitively disbelieving. "You hate red wine."
"Time to change?" Clark tried. Daniel touched the lily in one lapel that Clark had given his beloved before they left the townhouse. A sappy gesture for their romantic date planned seemingly on a whim. A regular Thursday, and they were in suits: Clark's gray and Daniel's maroon. They'd driven through the spring night with the top down on the Jag, holding hands. Daniel, so beautiful, sleek, and bemused, and Clark, so nervous, uneasy, anxious.
"But I love the way you are," Daniel murmured, and Clark melted with the gentle brush of fingertips to his wrist.
"I know," Clark choked. He met the eyes of the other lone patron in the tiny space. Paid informant, mysterious stranger, and Clark got a thumbs up.
Doubt threatened to win, the whispering fear of a possible negative lingering despite better judgment. Clark drained his glass, trembling, and he adored the concern that made Daniel half-rise. "I'm fine. Just something I need to do. Would love to wait for alcohol, but I think it'd kill me."
Rising tall, Clark swept right, and went down on a knee. "Daniel János Germain." A clarion call of name. "Professor." Quieter, and the music stopped. "Sir." Softest, and Daniel's lips parted. "Before you, I was half the man I could be. With you, I am whole. You saw me, you saved me, and every day you keep your promise to me. I don't want life without you."
"Clark." Daniel gripped chair and table, universes of affection in the single word.
From a pocket, Clark withdrew a box; he opened it. The ring was brushed cobalt titanium, oceanic metallic peace. "I offer love, support, and friendship for now and all time." Clark shook, steadied, and undid tie and shirt, slowly. Around his throat was a simple chain wrought of the same blue steel. For a moment, his voice was lost beneath the tide of Daniel's gasp, but the faith Clark put in the links urged him ever onward. He dropped onto both knees, smiling with his soul. "I offer my truth and myself. I want only to be yours, and for you to be mine. Anything with or for you, Sir, now and forever more."
Clark took Daniel's hand, held the offering above the clasp. "Daniel, you're the love of my life. Will you marry me?"
To Be Continued...
Love, Kelly Wyre