how fitting daniel and corbyn's last day together be valentine's day. a holiday they both despised and was the epitome of everything they rejected about romantic love. in the past, no matter who they'd been dating, daniel and corbyn spent valentine's day together, usually watching an action movie in daniel's apartment. except this year, the brunet man demanded they do something different.
daniel glanced down at the clothes laid out on his bed. this morning, he'd packed up his things and told corbyn he'd return to his apartment after work. their time was up. other than a clench of corbyn's jaw and a tight nod, the brunet man had no response. daniel'd come home from the gallery to find the suit and a note. he'd tried to sever the physical aspect of their relationship cleanly, just as corbyn'd wanted...as daniel'd wanted, even though a tiny part of daniel hoped...
wear this tonight. i'm taking you out.
how did corbyn even know the right size? and shoes, too. it was a suit, but not a boring one, it was a light sexy pink, kinda exotic, kinda new style for him, and daniel loved it. the shoes were black and one thousand dollars. both christina and daniel had sighed over the pair on their last shopping trip.
since when did corbyn buy daniel expensive gifts?
sitting on the edge of his bed, daniel reached into his nightstand for the key to his jewelry box and wrapped his hands around a small leather-bound book instead. drawing it out, he set it in his lap. years ago, a psychiatrist had given it to him and told him to write his thoughts inside. like a diary or journal, it was supposed to help daniel come to terms with his memories. he'd never written in it, the pages were blank.
he glanced at the suit and then the book. what better time to start than now, when his feelings were a kaleidoscope of crazy? snatching a pen from the drawer, daniel cleared his mind and just wrote the first thing that popped in his head. he'd written two pages, hardly noticing what he'd penned, when the doorbell rang.
he whipped his glance to the alarm clock. it was almost seven.
"shit." running to the door, daniel carelessly tossed the book on the coffee table before turning the knob. "jack?"
he smiled. "don't be too disappointed. i've been instructed to deliver you to dinner with mr. besson."
"oh. i'm running behind. give me a few minutes to change. come in."
"i'll wait here for you."
"you will not. it's freezing." daniel grabbed the lapels of his coat and pulled him inside, though daniel suspected he let him.
daniel shut the door and went down the hall. "be right back."
he cleared his throat. "no rush, sir."
"jack," daniel said in a warning tone, shrugging out of his work suit.
"sorry, mr. seavey." his voice was deep and loud as it traveled to daniel.
setting the clothes on his bed. "i can hear you smiling." daniel put the suit on.
"i can't help it, mr. seavey. you're a very likable person."
aw. hell. "thank you."
"you're welcome."
daniel rushed into the bathroom, brushed his hair, decided daniel didn't have time to putz with it, and spritzed his neck with cologne. and finally made his way to the living room.
