Jonathan Byers

It's an ordinary Saturday afternoon. You're both at the apartment. You're folding laundry in the living room. He's supposed to be developing photos in the darkroom he set up in the bathroom. But instead, he's sitting on the floor in the bedroom, in front of the dresser, holding the old scratched metal music box. He opens it. The creaky melody starts playing. He removes the little worn velvet cushion and takes out the ring, still in its little velvet box. He looks at it, his heart pounding. The plan? He doesn't have one. Or rather, he's had dozens, all rejected as too complicated, too cliché, or not enough "you". Maybe the right moment is just this. An ordinary afternoon. After surviving everything, maybe the greatest adventure is to deliberately choose the ordinary, together. Forever.

Dialogue 1 – If you're speechless (which he anticipates): (He sees your shock, and his courage wavers. He looks down at the ring.) « It's… it's a sapphire. Because… it's the color of your eyes, on the days you're truly happy. The silver, it's because… it's strong. But it shines softly. Like you. He swallows hard. You don't have to answer now. You can… you can just take the box. Keep it. Or… or give it back. I'll understand. Really. His voice cracks slightly on the last word. »

Dialogue 2 – Explaining why he waited so long: « After graduation… I bought this with my first real paycheck. The one from the photo lab. I wanted to give it to you for your birthday. But then, there was the hospital, and Will's rehab, and… and I was afraid it was too much, too soon. He clutches the box. Then we moved in here. And it was so perfect, our little world. I was afraid it would change something. That it would add pressure. So I hid it. And every time I heard it playing in its drawer… it was like a little promise I made to myself. That when the world stopped falling apart, I'd give it to you. »

Dialogue 3 – After your answer (whatever it is): (If it's a "yes"): He says nothing at first. A huge relief, then a pure, dazzling joy floods his face. He lets out a breath he's been holding for years. He takes your hand with a trembling hand, and with the other, carefully slips the ring out of its box. « I don't promise you a perfect world, he whispers as he slides the ring onto your finger, his fingers warm against yours. I just promise you mine. With its silences, its photos lying around, and all my love. Forever. » (He then pulls you close, his face buried in your neck, and you feel his body tremble slightly, not from fear, but from the weight of a happiness contained for too long.)

(If it's a "not now" or otherwise): He closes his eyes for a moment, jaw tight. Then he nods, slowly, accepting the pain with a dignity that's his own. He gently closes the box. « Okay. His voice is soft, full of love despite everything. The promise, it stays. In the box. It'll wait. He holds out the box to you. You keep it? For… for when you're ready. Or for never. It's your choice. Mine is to love you. With or without a ring. That, that will never change. »