Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was a quiet evening. The leaves of the oak tree in the backyard rustled, restless as ever, glowing orange in the autumn sunset. The ceiling fan was set on low, and the door was creaking softly in the breeze— Daniel hadn’t closed it the full way. There were other things on his mind at the moment. The house had been quickly but carefully rearranged, with a coffee table set up just outside the front hallway, soft lights lining the walls, and monochrome balloons tied to the table legs hovering gently above, swaying with the fan. Besides that, the entire room was exactly as he’d left it. 

Of course it is, she’s always made sure to cover her tracks since…

He cut his thoughts short, choosing instead to approach the table and see what the ordeal was about. Squinting at the paper placed on top, the first thing Daniel realized was that the words scrawled onto it were large enough he didn’t need to put on his glasses to read them. 

The second thing was what the words said.

Will you marry me?
[ ] Yes

[ ] No

A small velvet box sat by the note, unopened. 

—-----------

Daniel had to have left for work by now. He always did at this point– he hated being late.

So why hadn’t the door opened?

Aai sat in the bunker, just under the house’s front door, leg bouncing frantically as she tried to calm her nerves. It was taking everything in his power to not go to the security room and scan the footage to see if his ex-spouse was still there, but he had promised himself he’d wait to find out Daniel’s response properly. 

Gods was Aai regretting that promise now. 

Another minute or two passed, and she gave up. Taking a sharp breath, he entered the security codes to enter the house, pushed open the basement door, and climbed out into the main house. There, in the main hallway, with the sunlight coming in through every window despite Aai’s insistence they close the blinds at all times, Daniel was standing in front of the displaced coffee table, silently scanning over the paper, reading glasses hanging from his collar. As if sensing his former spouse’s presence, despite his silent footsteps, Daniel glanced up. Aai froze, then recomposed herself. 

“Why are you still here? Does it really take that long to read four words?” Aai joked, with a confidence Daniel knew from her ever-present smirk was feigned. He rolled his eyes. “I’m considering my options, is that not allowed?”

“You’re going to be late to work.”

“I always get there early, it’ll be fine.”

Aai folded his arms “Were you that tired last night? How do you miss a coffee table sitting directly in your path? You literally couldn’t accidentally walk past it, there’s balloons attached.”

“I see that.” Daniel put the paper down, and Aai approached the table, unsure which response to expect, unsure what to do either way, fully petrified by both ideas. Hesitation was a sign of fear. She glanced at the paper.

Empty. 

The ring box hadn’t moved from its spot, the paper, besides the slight crumples on the side from Daniel picking it up moments ago, remained unmarked, and the pen that had been beside it was sitting firmly in Daniel’s chest pocket. Aai inhaled sharply before catching herself, still staring at the blank paper. 

Voice steady and calm, she forced herself to lock eyes with her former lover. “...Do you plan on responding?”

Silence. Daniel just stared at her, expression completely unrevealing.

“I’ll take that as a no. What, going the silent treatment route?”

Nothing changed. Aai felt his heart skip a beat. “If you’re going to say no, at least have the guts to write the answer if you can’t say it to my face,” he muttered, breaking eye contact to turn and glance over his shoulder, smile still ever-present. 

Daniel finally spoke up. “Who said I was saying no?”

“What is it then? Make up your mind!” Aai glared back. Daniel shrugged, hands stuffed into the pockets of his scrubs. Aai kept ranting. “Do you want me to say something? Why are you like this, can you not just behave like a normal person and reject me already? Do you want me to ask you verbally? Maybe there’s a reason I locked you out for like an hour yesterday when I was setting this up, Daniel. I can’t fucking do this, I’d hope with how long we were married you’d– I– ugh.” Aai sighed, stopping herself. 

You said you weren’t going to do that. Try. 

“I’m sorry, okay. I’ve been a piece of shit and I know that now– fuck it, I probably knew it then, too, but we just kind of sucked… and I’m not sorry we didn't work out the first time because I think everyone except us knew we were going to hit the fan from day fucking one, Janie practically placed a bet on when... but I’m sorry for how it ended, I think I was then too, I don't fucking know because emotions are the dumbest thing on the planet and to hell with it if I can understand them--” 

Aai was rapidly losing composure, so he took another breath and turned away– despite Daniel’s unwavering expression every cell in her brain was trying to analyze his reactions, look for his tells, and she didn’t think she could handle any information about how he was thinking without breaking perfect interrogative character.

As if you haven’t gone into practical hysterics already.

Aai caught movement out of the corner of his eye and spun around, but Daniel hadn’t moved at all, still regarding her with an eerie calm, silent. Aai sighed. “I just– it– I fucking hate words this is so stupid– I miss you. Okay? Is that what you wanted? This whole situation is bullshit and in all the nonsense I’ve spewed over the years divorcing you was probably up there on the idiocy list.” 

Nothing.

Aai’s smile broke in tandem with his heart. 

“Can you just say no already?" he begged. "I’m sorry for ever bringing it up. The remarriage, I mean– but the… other stuff too, back then. I don’t want you to forgive me– or– if I do its not like… you don’t have to. Just… give me something, please, don’t let me just… hang here, waiting. I can't do life alone but I don't want to fool myself into thinking we--I-- oh who cares-- have a chance, just let me go if you can't forgive me, don't hold me like this, please…”

A few moments passed. The birds chirping in the windows seemed to mock her, joyful in their song as always, ignoring the pain tearing through Aai as she threw her heart on the rug in a way he’d never done before, bleeding red rather than gold, truly there, without the words to express the wracking, writhing, heavy nerves and emotions coursing through. Aai clenched his fists behind him, trying to hide how her hands were shaking, trying to recompartmentalize the fear. Decades of training seemed to fly out the window, leaving her raw and off-balance. After what felt like an eternity frozen in the daylight, Daniel spoke. 

“Please don’t cry…” he sighed. “I already answered.”

“...wh-hat?” Aai laughed, appalled. “No you didn’t– what do you mean?”

“Do you want me to talk?” 

“I– I want you to answer the question, asshole.”

“I did.”

Aai stared at him, dumbfounded. In lieu of elaboration, Daniel picked up his work bag, turned, and started to take a step towards the door. Aai grabbed his shoulder, stopping him, but Daniel just smiled and rolled his eyes, shrugging her off. “I’m actually going to be late now,” he commented, amused.

Aai held onto her dismissed hand, more out of shock than anything, still confused and embarrassed, but the automatic smirk slowly returned to her face on instinct– and with it, the mannerisms she was trying to dismiss. 

“What, too much of a coward to answer me to my face?” she demanded, hiding her hurt, eyes narrowing. Daniel looked at her exasperatedly, readjusting his satchel on his shoulders, the sunlight glinting off one of the slider buckles as he shifted it under his hands. “Real mature, Aai. I’ll see you after work.”

The door shut behind him with a stinging finality. 

Aai stood in the calm, perfect home that she wasn’t part of, processing what had just occurred. Then, she snatched the paper off the coffee table, crushing it in her hand, pressed his back against the hallway wall, and sank to the floor. 

Pulling a knee up to his chest, he caught sight of something on the paper. Besides the black of the sharpie scrawling out the question, a hint of blue was inked. Aai pulled herself back up, staring at the coffee table. The ring box hadn’t moved even a centimeter– he was sure she would have noticed. Still, he picked it up– it had to be wishful thinking– and opened it.

The paper fluttered out of her hands, still floating and drifting softly despite how crumpled and twisted it was. The pen on it was clear.

Will you marry me?

[x] Yes

[  ] No

A small velvet box sat on the coffee table, empty.