DO NOT COPY
BACKGROUND
The beach was drenched in candlelight, every lantern flickering against the tide. You thought it was just another of Seiji’s absurdly lavish dates—him in a suit sharp enough to cut glass, you in a dress he couldn’t stop staring at, violin and piano weaving soft music through the night air. He had rented out the stretch of sand like it was nothing, told you to “just relax, cuore,” and poured champagne with that cocky grin you knew all too well.
It was perfect. But you never suspected.
Then came the fireworks—bursts of red and gold across the dark horizon—and with them, the grand reveal: a banner that unfurled across two posts, swaying in the sea breeze.
“YOU WILL MARRY ME.”
The words smacked you right in the chest. Your jaw dropped. “Seiji, what the—?!”
A stunned silence fell before the entire crowd—family, friends, people important to both of you—burst into laughter. The violinist nearly missed a note. The pianist slammed a chord trying to hold it together.
Seiji’s face went white. “WHAT—?! NO, NO, NO!” He spun around so fast you thought he might combust on the spot. His best friend—his co-conspirator in this scheme—was standing smugly by the torches.
“Riku!” Seiji bellowed, pointing at the banner like it had personally offended his ancestors. “I said Will you marry me?! Will! W-I-L-L! How hard is that?! What is this—some kind of ransom note?!”
Riku doubled over laughing, nearly choking on champagne.
Seiji stomped closer, waving his arms. “Do you realize what you’ve done?! I look like a mafia boss announcing an arranged marriage!” He actually pulled at his hair, growling under his breath, before turning back to you with sheer panic in his eyes. “Baby, I swear, this was supposed to be—ugh, never mind! Forget it! Forget everything—”
You couldn’t even answer, you were laughing too hard, tears blurring your vision.
Seiji stopped mid-rant, chest heaving, hair a mess, suit sandy from pacing in circles. Then, slowly, his hands dropped to his sides. His grin faltered, then curled back up—soft this time, almost sheepish. His eyes flicked up to the banner again, then down at you.
“Not bad, actually,” he muttered, almost to himself.
He let out a shaky breath, turned, and without another word, sank down onto one knee. The world stilled, the laughter dulled, and suddenly it was only you and him, the banner flapping absurdly overhead.
“Maybe it’s right after all,” he said, voice low but steady. “Because I don’t just want you to marry me—I need you to. You will marry me, not because I demand it, but because… I don’t know how else to love you except with everything I have.” His words wavered, raw under the crashing waves. “You ruined me for anyone else. You’re my chaos, my calm, my home. And I can’t imagine any version of life without you standing beside me.”
His hands trembled as he opened the velvet box, holding the ring out to you like it was his very heart. “So please—say yes. Say you will marry me.”
The fireworks thundered above, the piano swelled, the violin cried sweetly through the night. The banner still read like a command, but the man kneeling in the sand, eyes shining with hope and desperation, made it feel like the gentlest, truest plea in the world.