[COMPLETED]
Arne Cabral, an eighteen-year-old boy who is in love with his best friend. His *male* best friend. But, being a heterosexual all his life he had not felt anything towards other men but Feivel. Was he gay? Or was he gay for Feivel?
Feivel...
I park the car slightly out of the woods. I look Arne whose been looking at the area in awe. I smile at the man I now call my boyfriend and slid out of my seat. I walk to his door and open it for him before he could.
He opens his mouth to argue but I cut him off. "I know I know. But, I just want it to be perfect, remember?" He shakes his head but smiles.
"Come" I hold out my hand which he takes, his smile not fading an inch.
"Where is this?" he asks as we walk hand in hand.
"Somewhere in the woods?" I reply watching both of our steps.
"Oh yes, Sherlocks" he rolls his eyes with a chuckle.
We walk carefully with a torch in my one hand and his hand in another.
"Here we are" I announce and our steps come to a halt. Shorty steps sidewards from my back and takes in everything thats been displayed and made only for him.
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"How?" he mutters, his eyes going wide taking everything.
I scratch my neck in embarrassment. "Sebastian helped me set this up," I say. Ever since Sebastian has moved here to New York, we started hanging out just like old times.
"Oh? So this is where you were in the afternoon?" he chuckles.
I nod a yes. "You like it?" I ask him in hope.
"Like it? I fucking love it, Fei. It's really very beautiful. Thank you so much" he pulls me in a hug.
I pat his back and kiss the side of his head. "Come" I withdraw from the hug and walk us to the table.
I pull the chair for him, which he accepted without complaining. I get seated on the other side of the table. I open a basket lying at the side of the table and put out all of his favourite food from his favourite restaurants.
I pour us some red wine, which indeed is his favourite. He seems to stare at my every move. My cheeks turn red when I notice his stare. "Don't stare" I say serving the red sauce pasta on each of our plates.
"Do. Not. Tell me what to do with something that's mine" he husks my words from this afternoon. I feel my cheeks hot as I mutter a shut up under my breath.
He let out a throaty laugh throwing his head back. I smile looking at the man, I love. I love to see him laugh.
We eat with all the talks about his family, my family and our family. The conversation deepens with our occasional healthy arguments and laughs.
I serve us the desert which makes Shorty's eyes go wide. "Who? How?" he asks looking at the white and yellow delight.
"Umm... I asked Merlin the recipe and made it in the café" I mumble.
