Be My Valentine?

It was Bob’s worst nightmare. The camera was directly on him, and he couldn’t find words. His mouth ran dry, like salty sand was filling it. In fact, he couldn’t even recall what the question was. The interviewer raised an eyebrow impatiently.

“Err, Mr. Bryar? Should we cut to commercial, maybe you can think it over? This isn’t Jeopardy, but hey, I know this may be tough for you.”

The cameramen and producers laughed, and Bob felt like an idiot. His face burned, blood flowing rapidly through his temples, as he awkwardly handed the cheesy pink-heart-embroidered microphone back to Gerard. The others resumed speaking, and Bob sank back shyly, wishing he could fall through the folds in the cheap studio sofa.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"How bad was I this time?”

Ray chuckled. “Not too bad…. You know, all he asked was which instrument you played.”

Bob forced a weak smile, but tears pricked at the back of his throat and the corners of his eyes. Ray’s facial expression changed from one of humor to one of sympathy as Bob’s head drooped shamefully and a whimper escaped him.

“Aww, come on Bob, it isn’t a huge problem. You’re just shy. It was just a dumb Valentine’s Day thing we had to do.”

Bob bit his lip to keep his sobs in. Showing his weakness to Ray was the last thing he wanted on a day like this. Ray wiped each tear away as it slid down Bob’s creamy skin.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re amazing. Do you know how amazing you are?” Bob shook his head slowly. “You’re amazing to me, Bob.” Ray’s voice faltered and he quickly looked away. In a whisper, he finally confessed, “I love you Bob Bryar.”

Bob looked up, teary eyed, like a deer caught in the headlights. A surge of emotions ripped through him, and he felt such an incredible need for Ray in that moment, it caused tears to fall faster down his face.

Ray panicked and apologized, grabbing his words back just as impulsively as they had been let out. Bob stood there, ravaged, a look of desperation plastered into his features.

“Ray,” his voice shook violently, “why would you hurt me like this?”

“Hurt you? How did I hurt you?” he asked nervously.

“You tell me the one thing I’ve been dying to hear, and then you snatch it away? Ray, can’t you see that I love you too?”

Ray stood, mouth agape, wondering if he heard correctly. His thoughts collected into one simple question. “Bob? Will you be my Valentine?”

A tiny smile crept onto Bob’s face, and he nodded eagerly. Ray took Bob into his arms and held him tightly, never wanting to let go.