SEBASTIAN MORAN:

  this isn’t a regular date night, and it AMAZES sebastian that chester has yet to pick
  up on that. of course,       evenings alone usually consist of such precision and care ( the
  romantic music, the curator’s attempt at dinner,      flameless candles aplenty ) but never
  to such a dramatic degree.        this much attention to detail has never been seen before,
  and sebastian, though exhausted by it, is proud.            he’s worked so hard to make the
  proposal something special, and here it is,           sharp on his tongue like the wine he so
  warmly consumes.                he’s ready.                     d a m n him,               he’s ready.

  ❛ ha! trying. ❜ his voice wavers somewhat at that.              so many spoiled attempts at
  cooking… so much advice piled onto him that he nearly burst.      ❛ I genuinely hope it
  tastes good. I tried so goddamn hard to make it perfect for you. you deserve perfect. ❜

  sebastian samples his plate      ( one hand still clinging to chester’s fingers ).
  it’s GOOD. it doesn’t taste burnt or undercooked.  it’s seasoned well. he’s
  not usually the seafood kind of man, but this… for chester, he’ll do anything.

  ❛ I’ll give myself a nine out of ten. ❜    in an attempt to subdue his nervousness, he
  tries to play himself off as proud and humorous, chest puffing up, lips pursing. they
  continue to eat and converse, enjoying each other’s company,  relishing in the faux
  candlelight. his wine glass is nearly empty — a good sign. he’s getting comfortable
  again. easing away the tension,   until sebastian shifts in his chair and feels the ring
  box in his pocket…                                          which reestablishes the nerves. 

              ❛ chester? ❜ 

  suddenly, his voice is hoarse.
  he clears his throat.      twice.

  ❛ I… I have… a question for you. ❜

           TO RATIOCINATE THAT ASSIMILATION OF the evening’s proceedings be
           anything less than unprecedented assiduity to aesthetics & choreography would be
           NOTHING less than cockamamy ( by definition ). Endowed with incisive sapience,
           bouquet of exulting, sultry whiffs & spectacles aplenty ( established under Sinatra’s
           ‘ How You Look Tonight ‘ saturating atmosphere breathing fragrance than can only
           be epitomized as Sebastian Moran ) do not percolate through apperception as does
           pastoral torrent. Yet rationale for merriment be contrary to foreordained purpose.

     Myriad of weeks previously were disbursed within borders of countries
     infamous for it’s excellence in artistry, virtuosity ; Italy, France, Spain,
     the two cats of London dubbed hotel rooms as their homes ( if both
     were so fortuitous to reside in likewise locale at the same instance ).
     Flights, resorts, buisness meetings, art galas, inquisitions, more flights,
     more hotels - it was an arduous phenomenon if they were to engage in
     romantic endavours, let alone be secluded apart from interlopers. In-
     habiting TONIGHT’S dinner along side one another was an event to be
     cherished ( fathoming if this was ploy by Sebastian to take a knee before
     his lover was NOT considered - not in the slightest ).

             ‘ That you are!! I know it is a bit more — challenging for you to perceive
             difference among cuisine that is sauteed or seared than identifying what
             period art was crafted in by which stroke of which hue was utilized, but
             you’re genuinely trying your best to please I & for that, I am so damn
             happy. I am utterly exhilarated by your craft, Mr. Moran. ’

      Pad of thumb brushes over form of his hand til that it veers under cuff of his shirt
      detecting giddy pulse & damn ; if this is what unadulterated beatitude surging through
      lodes mapping out his configuration felt like, then he’s one charmed man to laze in
      vehemence of the curator’s EMANATION of ardor. Digits twinge within stricture,
      overlapping each other, moving, caressing, merged in inseparableness ; an essence
      of SAFETY indisputable amidst paramours that soothed innermost obdurate behemoth
      the most callous of days. Sebastian need not profess his adoration ( though casual
      reminder is gratifying & accosted ) for when two partners are so enamored simply
      gestures confess pathos in volumes beyond any French phrase or ballad could affirm.

                                           & so music swells in tender silence.

    but it is later confession that rocks his core, rendering zest of his latest forkful to be bland.

                            Perfection. An abstraction that had compelled moral men to forgo
                            rectitude in order to achieve fortune beyond that of their peers & it
                            blemished their wisdom as well as their carcass - he himself knew
                            all too well of consequences. Come since he’s ensured collapse of
                            kin in pyre he’s trekked apace with brutality, rouge if it were to be
                            granted a stolen face, a falsified name. For years he was geared to
                            be contrivance for prime abolition - he was to be NOTHING less than
                            the best. He was supposed to be PERFECT in dexterity but as decades
                            elapsed & lacerations accentuated his back to ambiguity behind exact
                            precision BESMEARED. Gradually did bids for achievement dwindle &
                            he submitted physicality to martyrdom in hopes to appease what he
                            CANNOT fulfill. There was no such thing as perfection.

         it was IMPOSSIBLE.

             or so was envisaged til he met curator of Whitechapel Gallery, Sebastian
             Augustus Moran & suddenly rousing to auroras perforating through curtains
             & expanding cross landscape with bodies amalgamated ensconced beneath
             covers became EFFORTLESS ( as well as languishing HOURS later on after
             day consecrated to endearment ) for FINALLY he had something to LIVE for.

                      Nothing in his world was PERFECT but Sebastian is his perfection.

         ‘ You are the one entity by which the universe has unanimously decided to
         sanctify by all of what it deems pure in excellence. I can only feel HONOUR-
         ED to be able to call you mine. ’

                     Giggles are had in taking final bite of food. ‘ I don’t oppose that statement
                     whatsoever ; I can’t.’ Sight of his monumental, vigorous BOYFRIEND
                     endeavoring to compose himself to appear tenacious & profound. The
                     Cheshire grins frankly & in escorting knuckles to lips, he kisses them sweetly.

                                                                  ‘ Yes Sebastian? ‘