#afrenchguardsman

The older man lay on his side, with one arm resting over the other’s waist, with the tip of his nose just barely touching the other’s snow-white hair with a tinge of blonde it could seem if it were not for the lack of light... This man seemed ever so peaceful asleep in the arms of the other. Absentmindedly, at night perhaps and by sheer instinct it seemed, his hand had sought out the other’s only to lay atop of it so gracefully.

It took only a few notes from the birds outside for the older one to stir, however. Stir in such a way that must have been a custom of many years now, for he only opened his eyes so slowly, without moving at the slightest as not to wake the other up, and as he did, he nosed a little more into the other’s hair with that much affection. He smiled, too. The wrinkles around his eyes deepened at that, they have been there since he was barely thirty, of course now they would be more prominent than ever. After years of continous happiness...

He blowed on the other’s ear gently, without moving still, just to tease him -- but the other did not yet move. Jan thought to himself that he best be left asleep, should he be ready for the big day. Jan himself, however, could not sleep any more, could he? As quietly as he could, he shuffled out of the bed and stretched out, gazing out through the window, through the rain. “Mrholí...” he said softly, to himself, but he didn’t seemt to mind the rain. The contrary. He was too old to care about the weather, wasn’t he? Today was the big day.

From the window, his gaze wandered once more to his sleeping lover, and from there through the neat room towards the wardrobe. Their uniforms were ready there, not their old ones but ones much like them in every aspect, it meant a lot to the two to be able to marry in such a fashion that they have first met. Jan felt his water momentarily and allowed himself a moment to walk over the room, quietly, to touch the fabric, to imagine what it will be like to see Armand wear it once more, this time for an event so unlike others before.

Émeline, their helper for all things but few, arrived early, not only to make breakfast but also just to see to it that the two really had what they needed. She did not have to, but she offered anyway, most graciously, despite knowing that more people would be coming to help the two get ready. And there were. Friends and family of the closest, they were pouring in and out throughout the day, if only to steal a moment with the dearly betrothed. The wedding would likely be so busy, they might not get to, and so, helping out here and there, they justified their visits, their giving over wedding gifts way too early, or just conveying their excitement that still hardly touched on what the two men felt.

The ceremony was to start at two o’clock, but became delayed inevitably by the crowds of people trying to push in despite no invitations. Journalists, reporters, or really just regular people -- ones who supported them and ones who did not. This was the first marriage of the kind in all of France, after all. Everyone wanted their role in it while really, the only two that mattered have been ready for it for the past sixty years. And ready they were.

The moment it became public that at last they would in fact be legal as husbands now in France, it was Armand who set out into the streets to find the most wonderful ring possible for his future husband. At the same time, however, Jan was doing the same thing, so when they met up on a diner arranged so quickly that evening, there were four rings present at the table and the two agreed in great humour to save some for the actual marriage in itself. That was how ready they were. The law came into effect on the 18th of May, a week later they were getting married.

Some people teased them that they wanted to compete, that they wanted to be sure to be the first, to which one or the other always replied with only a smile -- “We cannot lose any more time than we already have...” Jan was ninety-four at the time, Armand only a few years younger. They felt that not only would the marriage at least satisfy them as a couple but also the world’s hunger for something to gossip about. For who could dare say anything against two veterans, two heroes of their respective countries, that have waited most patiently for this day whilst others got it for free and without hestitation? Who could dare say anything?

Over the years, they have appeared many places, never ashamed of who they were, always proud to show in fact the way they were, the way they have loved each other. Military memorials same as Pride parades, they both had their respective place in their schedule, because they realised the importance of their union for the youth that could just be the same. It was for them that they hurried to the altar, but no less for themselves.

When Jan had his arm around Armand’s waist, when he kissed him for the thousandth time in their lifetime, when he pressed gently onto his hand that now bore two rings, he knew that this was where they have been headed that entire time. That this was inevitably where they would end up, that this was the man he loved with his entire heart, after all that time.

Moments passed, songs passed too. Men walked in and out, with women or without. The man’s gaze oft turned towards the door when it moved, or even just when the cold air seemed to stir ever so slightly inside the room but not once was he met with what he had been expecting. Until that moment.

A tall gentleman walked in, for he indeed looked so gentlemanly in that horizon blue uniform that did fit only by sheer luck around his shoulders. A sweater peaked out from underneath and his cheeks were frost-bitten when the warm light of the lively buzz inside befell his face, but he seemed happy more than anything and as soon as his and the other man’s eyes met, he would be heading towards the bar. Taking his hat off, slamming it onto the counter with a little too much energy, he ran his hand through his hair to try out if it indeed was frozen. The blades of grass were, as he was walking there.

The other did take advantage of this gesture and his hand soon followed, his tender features brightened by the notion alone. Teasingly, he ruffled the dark hair and the both of them laughed. The newcomer joked about, reaching to drink from the other’s glass of wine but he was stopped, by a word or by a touch -- never was anything less obvious than in a room so filled with life. More laughter, more words exchanged. And then a song started playing.

Their song. Or was it? It could have been any other one. In their touch and in their gaze, there was that warmth shared -- any song played in that precise moment could be their own. The taller one grasped the other by the hand and led him out into the open, followed and accompanied by laughing of their comrades, by wise commentary on the practical joke the two men were pulling. Oh yes, that was all that was, wasn’t it?

Svítá, na východě svítá, každý příští den bude jako sen, chceš-li uprchnout se mnou... Such tender melody carried through the hearts, through the light and through the evening. It was yet so far from dawn, the song felt as misplaced and yet as right as the two of them.

And outside, God leaned on the windowsill, listening, -- contented.