Dear Patrick,

It's been a while since I wrote one of these. A fuck load of stuff's happened, I don't even know what to write about first.

So, last time, we got up to the time when I'd just met my dad. I guess I'll just go from there, then.

-

I was terrified.

The last few days had been fine, I'd called Andy and Joe to tell them what happened, told them I was okay with all this, my dad had called to confirm times and directions and stuff, I'd spoken to him like I'd known him all my life. You'd been great, helping me through all my worries, listening to me ramble about my feelings and whatever.

But when we finally pulled into my dad's driveway, all of that seemed to fly out the window.

"If you make me drive the whole way back again, I'm gonna fucking kill you," you'd sighed, when I'd refused to get out the car.

"But...I'm scared," I whined, staring at the door behind which my actual father and my actual brother and my actual sister-in-law and my actual niece were waiting.

"I know, Pete. You're allowed to be scared. But what you're not allowed to do is chicken out, okay?" you said, probably more aggressively than you'd meant.

I made a pathetic whimpering noise at you, and shrunk against the window.

Your gaze softened. "I know you feel like you won't fit in. Of course it's gonna be weird. But it might also be pretty great. You wanna see your brother again, yeah?"

I nodded.

"And you've spoken to your dad already. So what's the worst that could happen? If anything, I'm gonna be the most left out, I'm just the tag-along boyfriend."

"You're not just that, you're way more than that," I frowned at you, wishing there was some kind of intermediate between boyfriend and fiancé. Partner? Hmm. That just sounds like we're gonna be solving crimes together.

"Look, worst comes to worst, I'll text Joe, he can call you with some emergency from home or something, and we'll take off. But it's only one night. You can do this, I know you can." You smiled at me with your eyes, big and blue and hopeful.

I was just about to complain one more time, when the front door I'd been staring at began to open, and my dad appeared, waving at us.

"Too late now," you smirked into my glare as you hopped out of the car.

"Peter!" he called from the door, beckoning us over. I really wished he'd just call me Pete, but he kept forgetting.

I put on my best smile and clambered out of the car, feeling your arm curl around mine as we walked up the driveway, the gravel crunching under our feet.

He shook my hand and clapped me on the back as soon as we were within arm's reach of the door, and looked like he was about to do the same to you, but thought better of it. I think after what happened last time, he was avoiding touching you at all, and I was grateful for that; this was all his, his house, his family, his life. It seemed like you were the only thing that was mine, I sorta wanted everyone to just keep their hands off of you.

"Did you find the place alright? How are you? Was the traffic okay?" he gabbled, leading us into the hall and closing the door behind us. No escape now.

"Yep, the SatNav never fails," you grinned, "and we're good. How are you?" you said gently, reminding me that oh yeah, this dude's wife just died.

He gave us a sad smile, and sighed shortly. "Ah, we're surviving, I suppose."

You nodded, slowly trying to unwind your arm from mine, an action I thoroughly disapproved of and was relentlessly fighting against.

He stared at us for a couple seconds more, the silence rapidly falling into the awkward zone, before clapping his hands together and saying "Drinks! I'll get us some drinks," and hurrying off into the kitchen. Looks like freaking out under pressure also runs in the family.

Still clinging tightly to your arm, I actually began to take in my surroundings. It wasn't a huge house, a staircase squished into the narrow hallway, and a little kitchen at the end of it, with a door to what was probably the lounge leading off it. I came to find it sorta cosy, but right now, the picture-frame stuffed, clumsily wallpapered walls seemed like they were closing in on me.

"Deep breaths," you said quietly, squeezing my hand.

I nodded, trying to open my lungs up more and focusing on your steady gaze. You smiled and kissed me lightly on the lips, beginning to toe your shoes off. You so wanted this to go well, and I tried to convince myself that I did, too.

"Pete?" a voice said. A head poked round the door to the lounge.

Holy fuck. That's my brother.

"George?" I said shakily, feeling my eyes widen.

"Holy fuck, dude!" he exclaimed, stepping into full view and staring at me.

He'd always looked more like my dad than I did, his skin lighter and his eyebrows finer, but now he stood a good four inches taller than me with gangly limbs and broad shoulders, brown hair cut short and a crooked grin on his face.

We both just sorta took each other in for a few seconds, and I thought about offering him a handshake, but before I could even acknowledge the muscles in my hand, he'd rushed forward and engulfed me in a hug, tight enough to rival yours.

I felt you let go of my hand, giving me my cue to hug him back. It wasn't even a weak man-hug either, it was a proper rib-crushing face-squashing hug. Wow. Twenty damn years.

"So, uh, hi," he said as he finally let go of me, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Hi," I said back, giving in to the smile rising in my throat. "Uh, long time no see, I guess."

He laughed, his eyes crinkling up at the edges and his pointy teeth showing. "Yup, really really long time. And, you're Patrick, right?" he asked, looking at you and shooting you finger guns.

"Yeah, that's me," you nodded, fiddling with your hat, now in your hands.

"You look way different, dude," he grinned, gesturing in the general direction of your face.

You breathed a little laugh, your nervous gaze flitting about the place. "Uh...do I?"

"Nah, dude, good different," he chuckled, but I could see that that was not what you were worried about.

"Uh...but, how...?" you tailed off, staring at him.

"Oh, right, yeah, sorry," he said, gesturing at both of us, "no, I'm not a stalker, I swear, I just know you from your band. You're the dude with the hats, and you're the emo guy," he grinned, jabbing me in the shoulder. "Nah, I'm kidding, you guys are great. So, brother, what's up?"

I blinked at him, trying to keep up with his gabbling but finding it kind of amazing too. "Uh...a lot of stuff, I guess. You?"

"Ah, snap, lots of stuff too," he laughed, "hey, listen, we've got a hell of a lot of catching up to do, let's just sit down and talk about fucking everything." He gestured towards the lounge, and my dad appeared with a tray of what looked like every single drink he could think of.

"Uh, okay," I smiled, bewildered but kinda excited, "yeah, let's do it."

And we did. He sat us both down on one of the big poofy leather couches they have in the lounge, where his wife, Anika, and their kid sat. They looked alike, her and the baby, both with big dark eyes and long eyelashes. She's nice, I like her, even though we were all kinda awkward at first. We did the smiles and the handshakes, then that was about it, we let my brother do most of the talking.

And boy, could he talk. He babbled at us non-stop, telling us about his life, his job, his hobbies. He's a lawyer, like my dad, and although he says he's not that great at it, dad tells me he's a lot more professional once you get him in a court room. He likes hiking, he went on for ages about Red River Gorge and promised he'd take us there one day, a day you're probably dreading already, and cooking too, so we talked for ages about that. And he likes Breaking Bad, and Star Wars, and that's pretty much all I need in a brother. He's honestly hilarious, too, half the time it's not even what he says, it's how he says it. I was almost crying by the time he finally told me it was my turn.

I pretty much told him the same stuff as I'd told dad, all about the band and stuff, but this time, I decided they probably deserved to know about how I'd been, like, mentally, for the past twenty years, 'cause the last time they saw me, I was a child from hell with a temper like the Incredible Hulk. I told them how I met you, it was funny to watch you blush and sink further into the sofa when I told them how much you helped me. My brother thinks you're adorable, by the way.

Everyone went quiet when I brought up mum. I didn't mean to make them sad, I just wanted to know a bit more about who she was. They'd said she cared about me, but I was still struggling to process that after two decades of bitterness.

When I told them that, though, my dad stood up, beckoning for me to do the same.

"I gotta show you something, son," he murmured, leading me out of the lounge and up the stairs.

There were three bedrooms, my parents', one that looked like it was probably my brother's once, and one more, which I assumed was the guest room, until my dad stopped beside the door.

"After we moved here, she always said, if you'd have been with us, this room would be yours."

He pushed the door open, and I peered inside. It took me a moment to process what I was looking at.

It was a bedroom, with a normal bed and normal carpet and curtains and stuff, but the walls. Oh my god.

Plastered all over them were posters, picture frames, photographs, all seemingly with one thing in common. Fall Out Boy.

There were vinyl copies of our records carefully framed, photos of us getting awards, with famous people, playing shows, articles cut out of magazines and newspapers. There was even some of the stuff I'd done for Black Cards in the corner by the window, beside a row of CDs, each with Decaydance printed on their edges.

"Oh my god," I said quietly, creeping further into the room, tightness building in my chest.

"I understand it's a poor substitute for a ruined childhood, but we – we never forgot about you," my dad mumbled, placing at hand lightly on my shoulder as I stared around.

So this is how they knew about you, about the band, they'd kept up with everything, they'd got as close as they could to me without making contact. "I just – I, uh..." I trailed off, feeling a lot of stuff at once and unable to find words to express all of it.

"She was so proud of you, Pete. We – we all are."

"Yeah," another voice said. Looking round, I saw my brother leaning against the door frame, arms folded and smiling. "We're the biggest Pete Wentz fans out there."

I managed to smile back, but that was all my brain could muster before everything got a bit too much. Heat pooled behind my eyes, and the room went blurry. As I blinked, the tears fell, the tightness rising from my chest to my throat, leaving behind a warm feeling that might've been something like happiness. 

"Hey, come here," dad said gently, putting his arms around me in an awkward hug. I still hugged back, though.

Before I knew it, George had bounded over to us and joined in, squishing us all together with his weird long arms.

"Aww, we're so cute," he cooed, and I smiled through the tears.

-

By the time I'd wiped my eyes and followed the two of them back downstairs, everything seemed easier. I could look at my dad without seeing the jerk who put me in care, think about my mum knowing she'd been proud of me. Twenty years, and they never forgot. 

Walking back into the lounge, the first thing I saw was you, sitting on the sofa, talking to Anika, cradling baby Holly in your arms. I immediately sat next you, getting as close as possible without creeping the others out, nestling against your shoulder.

"Are you okay?" you asked softly, scanning my face and frowning.

I cursed my puffy eyes, but nodded anyway. "Yeah. I'm – I'm good." I wasn't lying, either. I was pretty much ready to drag you upstairs and show you the room and start crying all over again.

But your attention was mostly directed at baby Holly. She was wriggling about in your arms, looking up at you with a tiny smile on her face. Her little hands waved in the air, one curling into the fabric of your shirt, the other determined to reach your nose. You ducked your head and let her fingers touch your face, poking your lips and your cheeks until finally claiming your nose and making a gurgly sound. Giggling, you blew a raspberry at her, twitching your nose as she held onto it. The smile on your face was one of utter adoration.

"Can we keep her?" you asked, turning to me with puppy-dog eyes.

"Please, take her, I could do with the sleep," Anika said, promptly followed by a loud guffaw from George across the room.

I laughed too, but all I could think about was oh my god, I want a baby. I know it's different for us, I know it'll be more difficult and take longer and involve more paperwork, but it'll be worth it just to see you smile like that again.

-

The rest of the afternoon went pretty well, I think, we just talked more and went on a tour of the house and your face when you saw the spare room was amazing – flattered and happy for me, but mildly horrified that you were in most of the photographs, too.

We didn't sleep in that room, though, there was only a single bed, and it'd be a bit weird to be watched by hundreds of little Fall Out Boys. We slept on the sofa bed instead, which was cramped but cosy, after you'd whisper-yelled at me for packing lube because you absolutely refused to let me fuck you in my parents' house with a baby upstairs. Shame.

Anyway, it turns out that my family are in fact morning people, and my dad came downstairs bright and early the next day to offer us coffee. It was hilarious to watch you try your utmost to stay polite while you were barely conscious and sleep-deprived. You ended up asleep on my shoulder on the way to the church.

The funeral was sad. I know it sounds obvious to say, but, I dunno, the flowers and the speeches and atmosphere was enough to bring me to tears all by itself. I think even you cried a little bit at one point. I was fine right up until the eulogy, when my dad got up to say a few words, and that's when everything started to get to me. My mother is dead. I'm never gonna see her again. I'm never gonna get to meet her and show her how much better I am, I'm never gonna get to thank her. It was the first time I'd really realised that.

My dad and my brother were in pieces. A lot of people were, it seemed like she had a lot of close friends. I think that's what they thought we were, at first, but my dad introduced us to pretty much everyone, and suddenly I was swarmed by people shaking hands and giving me hugs. I met my aunt, too, who I vaguely remembered, and my grandpa, who asked me a hell of a lot of questions about being gay, before dragging you off into the corner and quizzing you about god knows what. You looked exhausted when you finally returned, but I got a thumbs-up from him, so I guess you got the seal of approval.

We ended up staying another night at dad's, and it didn't even seem like he was just asking out of politeness, either, it actually seemed like he wanted us to stay. Everything felt a bit different after the funeral, a bit more subdued, but somehow it felt like we needed each other's company more. We didn't talk much, just piled into the lounge and watched some crappy sci-fi film on TV, you curled up close to me, and George to Anika, a fast-asleep baby Holly cradled by my even faster-asleep father.

It was nice, actually. I found myself thinking, yeah, maybe I could get used to this whole family thing.

-

The only issue with staying the night, though, was the fact that I'd forgotten I had a viewing of that house scheduled for Saturday afternoon, so I had to politely tell you to hurry the fuck up without telling you why I was so eager to leave.

After saying our thank yous and goodbyes and exchanging phone numbers with my brother and a lot of hugging too, we finally got out the door, the whole lot of them waving from the porch as we pulled out of the drive, like we were in some corny movie.

I spent most of the journey home just absorbing everything, thinking about everyone I'd met and how much stuff was gonna be different after this. Also, the fact that this hadn't all gone horribly wrong. I think there was a part of me, up 'til then, that'd been convinced it would all fall to pieces somewhere along the line, and everything would go back to how it was before, with me normal and family-less. It's only now that I realise how much I've missed out on over the last twenty years.

"So... how're you feeling?" you said gently after forty five minutes of tuning and re-tuning the radio whilst I was stuck in my thoughtful state.

"Uh...good, I think. It went well, didn't it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you did really well, they all really liked you," you grinned, glancing at me.

"I liked them, too," I pondered, "it's weird, I can't believe it all went so well."

You laughed a little. "You gotta stop expecting things to go badly."

"I know," I sighed, staring out the window. Up ahead, there was the turning that would lead to the house. Our house, maybe. I could wait for you to drop me off, then go see the place by myself, just to make sure it was right. Or. I could take you there right now.

"Take this next right," I said suddenly, pointing at the turning.

"Uh..why?"

"Because, I, uh...I gotta show you something."

"Show me what?"

"You'll see," I smirked, and you frowned.

"See what? Come on, Pete, just tell me," you whined, but turned right all the same.

"No, just wait, okay?"

You huffed at me, pulling your I hate surprises face, which is always just an act, but following my directions as we wound through the suburbs and, finally, pulled up in front of the house.

"So...what're we doing here?" you asked me as we got out of the car.

"Oh, it's just this house I was looking at, you know how I'm thinking of moving?"

"Oh, right, okay. It's nice," you nodded, looking up at the big windows and the neat little lawn and the flowers spewing from the window sills. "Really nice."

There was no annoying estate agent today, the lady who owned the house let us in, I think her family were out. It was emptier than the last time I'd seen it, and there were a few boxes here and there, it looked like they were pretty much moved out.

-

"Right, so that's the downstairs," she nodded, after she'd shown us around the kitchen and lounge and stuff. The permanent look of amazement on your face sent this little wave of happiness over me. "I can show you the upstairs, too, if you'd like? Or would you rather take yourselves round?"

"Uh, I reckon we're okay from here. We won't be long."

"No, no, take all the time you need. I'll be down here if you need me," she smiled, before wandering off into the lounge.

-

"So, what d'you think?" I asked, as we reached the master bedroom.

You shook your head slowly. "This place is awesome. Oh my god, look at this bedroom, it's huge!" you exclaimed, scampering across it, "and there's a balcony, what the hell, you have to live here!"

"You like it, then?"

"Yeah, fuck yeah, how did you even find this?"

I shrugged. "I dunno, just looked around some websites." And spent fourteen hours straight calculating distances and budgets and getting every detail absolutely perfect whilst driving myself and Andy absolutely insane.

You scowled at me. "Ugh, this is so annoying. Why d'you find this before I did, I need a house more than you do!"

"Well, I guess you'll just have to find somewhere else," I sighed, trying to hide my smile.

"Aw, but this is so perfect! It's got one of those big kitchen-lounge things, and, and a breakfast island thing, and have you seen the garden? It's so cute. And the bathrooms are huge. And there's a basement, too."

"I know, wouldn't it make a great studio?" I pondered, wandering over to you.

You groaned. "Yes, yes it would. Oh, and it's in such a great place too, literally everything is near here, but it's still really peaceful. The lake must be somewhere around here too, right?"

"Yup, it's a few miles from here."

"Oh for fuck's sake. This isn't fair."

I laughed. "So, if it was you, you'd wanna buy this place?"

You leant against the open sliding window which led to the balcony, staring at the sky. "Are you kidding? This is perfect."

Okay. Fuck it, I'm gonna ask him.

I stood a few metres away from you, wringing my hands together. "But, uh...don't you think it's a bit big for just one person?"

You shrugged. "Well, maybe, I guess, but -" you caught sight of the look on my face, and I saw you swallow quickly. "But...uh, I...um...what?"

It was my turn to shrug. "How about it?"

You blinked at me. "What, so...?"

I nodded.

You chewed on your lips, looking at me steadily. "Let me get this straight. You...want me to live here. In...in this house. With...with you."

I froze. You were looking at me like I was crazy. Oh, shit. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. "No, no, okay, you're right, it's too soon, I'm sorry, I just thought, I dunno, I mean, we basically live together already, but it's too big a leap, that's fine, I didn't wanna put any pressure on you or anything, I'm sorry, I-"

"Okay," you interrupted, and I looked up at you.

"What?"

"Okay," you said again, and there was a massive grin on your face.

My heart did a little flip. "So...is – is that a yes?"

You smiled wider. "Yes. Oh my god, yes."

"Holy shit," I breathed, a tingly feeling in my chest, and you giggled.

I barely had time to smile before you'd leapt at me, throwing your arms round my neck and squeezing me tight as I reeled backwards. Laughing against your cheek, I slid my hands down to your thighs and lifted you off the ground, letting you wrap your legs round my waist and hug me tighter.

I could feel your giggles through your chest, hear them bouncing off the walls, I could feel the smile on your lips as you pulled back and kissed me. Closing my eyes, I realised yet again how utterly gorgeous you are.

Unfortunately, though, I got so caught up in the moment that I didn't see the bed behind me until I was falling back onto it, causing you to quickly drop your legs from me and hang onto my neck for dear life.

We ended up a pile of laughing limbs, your nose jabbing me in the eye but my hands still happily resting on your butt. You pecked me lightly on the cheek before shifting off me, pressing your face into my shoulder and sighing slowly.

"We're gonna live together," you said quietly, taking my hand and threading my fingers with your own.

"Yeah," I grinned, snaking my other hand underneath you and holding you close. "I wanna wake up to you every single day."

You giggled, kissing me quickly. "Love you," you mumbled against my mouth, your lips brushing mine in the most tantalising way. It would've been against my morals not to claim them, so I turned to face you properly, untangling our hands so I could cup your face. We kissed deeply and slowly, gradually moving nearer to one another until our chests were as close as our lips would allow.

"So, d'you wanna go buy a house?" I asked, when we'd finally broken apart.

You did that adorable thing where you jiggle your feet around and press your knuckles to your cheeks, nodding furiously.

"Shall we stop making out on a stranger's bed, then?" I laughed, curling an arm around your shoulders and hauling us both into a sitting position.

"Yeah, probably," you sighed, then placed a kiss on my neck. "But when we get home...oh boy."

I smirked, giving your hips a squeeze, and then we were kissing all over again, fingers grabbing at each other's hair and clawing at each other's clothes.

"Whoa, okay," you panted, pulling back. "Home. Now."

Giving you an apologetic grin, I scooped you up in a hug, breathing into your shirt and cuddling you tight. And as we sat there, thoughtfully, the laughs bubbling in our throats, I remember thinking that this might be one of the happiest moments of my life.

-

We fucked twice that night, at your place this time. It's strange, there seems to be two very different species of sex that've emerged since we've been together; there's the first kind, which can happen at all hours of the day and in nearly any location. It's the type of thing where we just sorta jump on each other and it turns into a who-can-get-the-other's-clothes-off-first competition, then it's loud and sweaty and sometimes involves some imaginative position that one of us thinks would be fun. It's also usually the type which leads to the most injuries, the worst being that one time I fell off the kitchen counter and smacked my head on the table. Explaining that one to the doctor was fun.

But then there's the other kind. It doesn't happen terribly often, but I guess if it did, it wouldn't be so special. So far, it's always happened at night, in bed, and we start kissing and touching, and, I dunno, it just seems different. To use a phrase coined by awkward sex education teachers, it really feels like we're making love. It's the type where we savour each other, get as close as possible to each other, slow and deliberate and meaningful, our mouths moving in time with our hips, breaths filled with I love yous. It's during those times that I find myself thinking, it's him. It's only ever gonna be him.

We did both types that night. The next day, we made an offer on the house, and it was accepted.

-

The next few weeks after that were spent in moving-house mode, which is not the best mode to be in. We both had houses to sell, and that's stressful enough by itself, but then there's all the paperwork and the delays and even when you've sold your house and you've got another one to move into, you've still gotta actually move.

Packing was boring as hell. After the novelty of being able to fit you inside the packing boxes wore off, it was just endlessly dull. Well, okay, so it was dull for you, but actually I kinda liked the fact that everything I owned had to be ordered into different categories and labelled and packed up neatly, it was very satisfying. When I told you that, you gave me this look of utter despair, like you couldn't believe you'd agreed to live with me permanently.

There was no getting out of it for you, though, and three months later, here we are, living in the same house.

It's amazing. There's still a couple boxes we gotta unpack, but other than that, we're set. We share a home phone number now, and we got to send out those little moving house cards to everyone we knew. You didn't want to 'cause you didn't wanna be the annoying new lovey-dovey couple, but I ignored your protests 'cause I definitely wanted to be the annoying new lovey-dovey couple.

Don't get me wrong, it's not all perfect, I mean, we annoy each other no end, you buy endless amounts of music tech stuff and try to sneak it into the basement without me noticing, you literally never cook, you're so messy oh my god it's ridiculous, and you never put stuff in the right recycling bin. But, then, you always put this fabric softener in with the washing so everything smells amazing and my clothes have never been so comfy. And you make me hot chocolates whenever I need them. And sometimes I'll come home from wherever and find that you've cleaned the whole place just to make me happy.

I think the main thing is that you're never far away, no matter where either of us is, we're always gonna come home to each other at some point. I just love being around you, I guess. Nothing's mine or yours, it's all ours, it's like the threads of both our lives are getting twined together tighter and tighter, until you can't separate them anymore.

-

I'm sitting in the lounge right now, in our lounge, in our beautiful new house, in the big squishy armchair we bought specially for the cosy sofa area. You're crashed out on the couch opposite me, you dozed off a while ago now, after claiming you were 'too full to be awake'.

It's Christmas day. It's been probably the most stressful Christmas of my life, but it's also been one of the best. We decided, for some reason, that it would be a good idea to have Christmas at our place, thinking it's fine, not everyone will say yes, surely. We were wrong. Your mum, dad, aunt, uncle, two of your cousins and your grandma came, plus my dad and George and Anika and Holly. It's been chaos.

We had to buy so much food, I've never cooked for twelve and a quarter people before, and at first it was all stress and expectations and oh crap we don't have enough crackers or there's only one other sleeping bag or shit we've gotta buy alcohol and neither of us know what's nice anymore.

But it was so worth it. Holly pretty much stole the show, she's started to giggle now and we all took turns trying to make her laugh. Our parents are getting on pretty well, which was a relief for both of us, and your aunt and my brother hit it off straight away, probably because they can both talk non-stop about anything. I can hear them nattering away in the kitchen. The game of Trivial Pursuit we played nearly ended in your grandma hurling some kind of inanimate object at my dad, but once she'd got a couple glasses of sherry down her, she lightened up considerably. She's asleep too, on the other sofa. I think dinner nearly finished us all off.

Most of us are watching Titanic at the moment, because what else do you watch on Christmas day, and I now fully understand the awkwardness of watching nude scenes with relatives around. There's quite a lot of stuff about families that I think I understand better.

Also, I've been thinking. Well, I guess my brother got me thinking.

-

It was yesterday, when most people were here already, and you were catching up with your cousins in the kitchen. I was hopping around the place, putting little bowls of sweets and chocolates around the place like the Christmas elf I am, and my brother was following me around taste-testing everything.

"Dude, what are these?" he asked, picking up a bowl of little chocolate pieces.

"Oh, it's Oreo chocolate. You know, like, chocolate with Oreos in," I shrugged.

"That's so awesome," he grinned. He gets excited about literally everything, it's hilarious. "You rockstars and your cool food."

"Yeah, you wait 'til tomorrow, I've got sprouts and everything," I grinned back, waving a finger at him.

"I can't wait to see your sprouts, dude."

I made a face at him. "Hey, no rude jokes around family, Patrick'll kill you. He may be small but he could take you down," I warned.

"Whoa, okay. Defensive boyfriend, I get it. Hey, how's the whole moving in thing going? You kicked each other out yet?"

"Nah," I laughed, "we had a couple big rows, but that was just 'cause he forgot to put the bins out," I finished, perching on the arm of the sofa and placing the last of the bowls on the coffee table.

"Cool," he nodded. "D'you think you're gonna marry him, then?"

I nearly fell off the couch. "What?"

He shrugged. "Well, isn't it legal in a few places now? I reckon it'll be legal here by next year. You could always go to Canada," he pondered.

"Uh...well, I, like, uh," I stammered, kinda caught off-guard, "I dunno, I mean...I don't know."

"Oh, so you're not ready yet? That's cool, man, don't worry about it."

"No, no, I mean, I do want to, at, at some point, I...I want to," I frowned to myself, suddenly wondering, hey, do I wanna marry him? I frowned even harder when the answer was a resounding yes.

"Fair enough if it's too soon, but, for me, with Anika, I just kinda knew, y'know? I guess you just get to the point where you can't even imagine being with anyone else." The gold band on his finger was suddenly all I could see.

I blinked at him, my head swimming. Holy shit. Can I imagine being with anyone else? Twelve years of evidence says no.

He laughed at the blank expression on my face, clapping me on the shoulder. "Food for thought," he shrugged, then grabbed a handful of Oreo chocolate and walked off.

-

My thoughts are chewing over that food right now. 'Cause, like, we haven't even been together for a year yet, so it would be crazy soon. But, then, if you added up all the time we've been together in our whole lives, then it would be like four or five years. Plus, we spent so much time together on tours and stuff, that's probably another year's worth. And I was in love with you for eight years, nine if you count this one.

But maybe time doesn't even matter. Maybe what matters is the fact that I can see you across the room, your glasses falling off your face and your mouth slightly open, no doubt drooling all over the cushions, and you're the most fucking beautiful thing I've ever seen. Maybe what matters is the fact that you make me happier than I ever dreamed I'd be.

I gotta wrap this up now. Jack's just floated off into the depths and your aunt's in tears, and I don't think I can pull off my I'm writing out charades excuse without actually writing out charades. I've been scribbling relentlessly for way too long now.

So that's what's been happening over the last few months. I kinda can't believe how much my life has changed, and how okay with that I am. I also can't believe that I'm considering proposing to you in the new year. I'm okay with that, too.

I wanna marry you, Patrick.

Love, as always, Pete. xxx