by Julian Futanto

I stared out the window. The sun radiating its light solemnly through the wooden bars and I can feel the warming sensation covered my still body. Out there were the aged oak tree and bushes of raspberry, covering the lone hill on the top of Westerschelde. I sighed, though the sights of this very village of Vlissingen was the same as usual, I was not. Jubilant, elated and nervous was my heart, all mixed in one. That was when I heard the familiar creaking sound of the church’s door. He was there. My groom was there.

Finally, he had come—Vincent, my beloved. Both my eyes were now fixed at the slowly swinging door. As he opened the massive decorated door with one recognizable hand, I could not help but to observe him scrupulously right from hair to foot, as he was too much a gorgeous creation of The Father. At that moment, time had stopped.

He was in a set of black handsome tuxedo. Even through the three-layered suit, an inexplicable attractiveness emanated from those perfectly shaped body. I knew it; I saw it all—just the night before, to be exact. I could even imagine his rectangular chests and his well-trained, six-pack abdomen. His was the ideal body every men and women on this world would crave for.

Then I looked up a bit so that his face was the only thing in my vision. The visage was picturesque, the features flawless. However his eyes were the most distinct beauty of the façade. They were turquoise, deep as the seas yet free as the skies. Every now and then, those two orbs would emit mystifying charisma and charm of a gentleman. Again, I thanked God for creating this radiant being.

On top of all, despite his brawny, bulky appearance, one would be able to tell from his manner and his confident yet gentle way of walking that he was actually a man of intellect. He had not only brawn but brain as well, people often said. One thing they did not know was the sensitive side of him. From those two years I spent with him, I had known him inside-out. Only to me he would show his sensitive, romantic side behind all those physical masks of him.

Vincent was so pure and innocent, and finally today he would be mine. Feeling utterly contented, I realized then time had started flowing again. As he walked towards me, he glanced at me and his lips formed a captivating smiled. I smiled back at him.

“You’re so beautiful today,” he said, standing in front of me.

“Thank you,” I replied, “You look magnificent, too,” I grinned. Then he held my hand.

“Stanford, finally,” he whispered, “the day has come.”

“Yes, finally,” I replied, gripping his palms tightly. Tears burst out from my eyes and then Vincent hugged me.

“Don’t take what people say, Stanford. Believe in yourself. Believe in love,” he said. And I gave him a tender kiss on his lips. I had accepted myself as a homosexual since Vincent came to my life. He had taught me love. He had taught me the meaning of life. He was the one who had given me strength so I could decide to marry him.

Outside, the turtledove was singing and today, the two finally became one.

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