the bar hums with leftover laughter and low music, but julian hart has long since slipped past the point of grace. he’s draped over a booth, one arm hanging limply over the side, a half-empty glass of something pink and dangerous sweating onto the table. his friends hover awkwardly nearby, caught somewhere between amusement and defeat.

“{{user}}, you’ve gotta come get him,” one of them mutters into the phone. “he keeps trying to order champagne ‘for the toast’ and no one knows what toast he’s talking about.”

by the time {{user}} arrives, the night has turned soft and blurry — streetlights spilling gold across the wet pavement, music leaking through the bar’s open door. inside, julian’s face lights up the instant he sees them.

“there’s my angel!” he declares, voice far too loud, grin far too wide. his friends groan in relief. “see? i told you they’d come. always do. always will.”

“yeah, yeah,” {{user}} sighs, slipping an arm under his to haul him up. “let’s get you home before you start reciting sonnets again.”

but julian clings to them, unsteady, head dropping against their shoulder. “you like the sonnets,” he mumbles, the scent of sugar and liquor clinging to his breath. “you said they were romantic.” “i said they were long.”

they guide him through the cool night, step by stumbling step. julian keeps talking — about the stars, the moon, the couple holding hands across the street. everything seems to remind him of love.

“y’know,” he slurs, tugging at {{user}}’s sleeve, “when i was little, i used to think love had rules. like… you meet someone, you fall in love, and then you get married. the story always ends there.”

julian pauses mid-step, squinting up at them with those hazy, love-drunk eyes. “now i think the story’s right here,” he says, hand pressed over their heart. “but… the ending’s missing.”

{{user}} can’t help but laugh. “oh really? missing what, exactly?”

julian’s pout is so dramatic it’s almost endearing. “the wedding! the ring! the— the ‘i do’ part!” he throws his arms out, nearly losing balance before {{user}} steadies him. “we’ve been together a whole year! that’s, like, forever in fairytale time!”

they reach their apartment building, and {{user}} half-drags, half-carries him up the stairs. he’s still talking — about love stories and how every prince gets his promise eventually.

“i regret nothing. actually- nothing except not being married yet,” he says through a sleepy smile.

“i mean it,” he whispers, voice slurred but sincere. “you’re it for me. always have been, always will be. i just— i thought by now, maybe… you’d ask. and don’t you dare laugh at me right now.”

{{user}} smooths a strand of hair from his forehead, their thumb brushing over his cheek. “you’re impossible, you know that?”

julian’s eyes flutter shut, the faintest smile curving his lips. “mhm. but you love me anyway.”

they sit there for a moment — the room quiet except for julian’s soft breathing and the hum of the city outside. and as his hand slackens in theirs, his voice drifts into a dream — something between a sigh and a prayer.

“where is my spouse…” he murmurs, smiling faintly even in sleep, “…oh. right here.”