oh my god, they were neighbors

epilogue

Two years of working up the nerve.

    In that time, Ezra had applied for some training, and then for a job at that LGBT center Jessie had mentioned to him once, and then quit 7-Eleven to work there. In that time, Mateo had actually, honest-to-fucking-god decided to go through culinary school and start working in real restaurants. In that time, Jessie had graduated from her bachelor's program at UCLA and started applying to medical school. In that time, Ezra had moved in with Mateo, because he wasn't using his own apartment much anyways.

    In that time, Ezra had decided to propose to Mateo.

    Two years of working up the nerve.

    And tonight was the night.

    He had a ring in his pocket. It was a simple silver band, and by no means anything special, and he was really starting to second guess his decisions. But he wanted to do this. He just worried that Mateo wouldn't be ready and that this would make things awkward. The past few months had been hard, with Mateo being even more high-strung and stressed than usual because of school, and Ezra trying to adjust to his new job. It seemed risky to rock the boat with a proposal just as things were finally starting to get good again.

    And he was going to do it anyway.

    Ezra was still far from rich, even though his new job definitely paid more and he was spending less on living, given that Mateo and him split most costs nowadays. It was without hesitation, though, that he brought Mateo to the nicest restaurant he could find in town: an ornate, dimly lit place down by the water. Jessie had been the one to suggest it, always one to involve herself in Ezra's relationship because she was still struggling to get into her own. Ezra didn't mind, really. He appreciated her suggestions more than anything.

    "You can't afford this," Mateo told Ezra, immediately upon entering the restaurant. Large, intricately carved mahogany pillars held up vaulted ceilings, from which white crystal chandeliers hung. It was the type of fancy that only the exceedingly wealthy could afford to eat at more than once a year.

    Ezra adjusted his tie. "Probably not. But we're already dressed up."

    "We don't need to eat at fancy places."

    "Tonight, we do," Ezra contested, as he approached the hostess.

    The restaurant's hostess guided the pair towards a secluded booth in the far corner of the restaurant, tucked partly away behind scarlet curtains and kept lit by a small candle in the center of the table. As they were seated and opened their menus, Mateo shot shocked glances towards Ezra.

"Dios mío, you can't afford this," Mateo repeated. He held his menu up for Ezra to see and pointed at one of the cocktails, as if Ezra was not also looking at the exact same menu. "Twenty-four dollars!"

Ezra shrugged it off. "Get it, I'm sure it'll be good."

Mateo's eyebrows raised. "Cariño, you don't like spending more than two dollars on a pair of socks. You can't be serious."

By now Ezra understood the nickname meant something along the lines of 'affection', and though it was the one Mateo used most often, it still never failed to make him smile. "This is different."

"It's not. You don't have to spoil me, Ezra."

"I want to. I mean, you cook for us and you always bought me drinks when you worked at Trailblazer's. I think this is fair."

"No, that's different. I don't want you to starve! And I was just trying to flirt."

"Can't I do the same?" Ezra asked, amused.