Whatever the reason, you need to leave your cramped dorm.

Cool early-October air hits your face and you suck it into your lungs. You stretch, but not long enough because, after all, you really must get moving. You take off down city streets that are -- too slowly -- becoming familiar to you. You sure do take off a lot for someone with a lousy sense of direction.

You run through a quieting city, opting for even quieter streets, away from cars and harsh street lights. Without the noise and the light, you allow your mind to decompress -- you feel yourself hit the pavement of this world, not another.

Wed Me: I’ll write a drabble about our character under the subject of wedlock [be it my character proposing to yours, or marrying yours, feel free to specify.]

the years, in a shocking display of mercy, have been kind to the both of you.

you’re a little thicker, more so than you've been in your entire life; but, nearing 40, you're taking better care of himself than you have in years. not settling — no, never settling — but perhaps taking a little detour on the highway to hell you'd been dutifully traipsing down.

levi is as waifish as ever, which suits him just fine — she, as she often prefers. she’s curvy where she used to be angular, softer where she used to be hard. you’re both okay with getting softer.

you’re helping her clean her apartment one day — sometimes one just need to be rid of clutter, or, often, as is levi's case — and you find something in a small box near her bed. it’s a gift; the one you gave her at a new year’s party some time ago now. a little gold ring outfitted with brass knuckles.

you study it. beautiful and ruthless — like levi. you could pat yourself on the back for picking it out, but you’re suddenly feeling a little misty-eyed. a little introspective.

people have come and gone. farlan and isabel tied the knot about 3 years ago; sasha moved out and went to see how big the world was; you hear that tommy’s off chasing storms. annie, bless her turbulent heart, started attending school — she’s in europe now, studying abroad. she writes you more often than you thought she would. sometimes levi laughs at the letters — you’re relieved. 

levi, though. levi is a constant, and you want it that way. you said you’d follow him forever, didn’t you…? you can’t remember when, exactly, but you remember that promise.

"Hey—" you’re in the living room now, grinning, standing above her as she reaches under the couch to dust, "Remember this?"

she kneels and regards you with a minute grin and a quirked brow. “I keep it next to my bed. I don't see how I could forget, idiot.”

"No, but — remember what happened? There was that big panic that we were gettin’ hitched?"

levi scoffs quietly, “I guarantee the panic wasn’t as big as you remember.” 

you snicker, but your heart’s not in it — your heart is panicked, intentions elsewhere. you want to kneel, to make it ‘proper’, but your knees won’t bend. you stand there like an idiot with the ring between your fingertips, your mouth opens, closes, opens. “I want— I wanna do it for real.”

"What?"

you grab her hand and tug off the oversized rubber glove, fumbling with the ring you bought way too long ago for it to ever be considered engagement-worthy. the ring that you’d always thought you’d use is across the country, tucked away in your mother’s bedroom closet. you hated to look at it — couldn’t stand the idea of permanence, but…

"I wanna—… Hey, I wanna marry you."

you kneel, finally, and you’re both on the freshly polished floor, regarding each other searchingly… incredibly, she laughs first. you follow suite.

"Armani…"

"Marry me, okay? It don’t gotta be big — hell, I could drive down to city hall on a nice day, an’—"

"Don’t lie. You want fanfare." 

relieved, you laugh. "Yeah? Well--"

"Yes."

"Yes? Y'mean it?"

"I do -- whatever it is you're supposed to say."

"I'm really fucked up."

> you announce, your voice quivering even as the inanity of the statement hits you and nearly makes you choke on bitter laughter. face somewhere between morbidity and mirth, you collapse facedown on her bed and groan miserably into the mattress.

"I hate this, baby. I hate this. I -- did you see--"

> you turn a little, enough to gaze pleadingly at her.

"Did you see her on th'fuckin' dash, Levi? I'm-- She's real. She's--"