The air in the greenhouse felt like a warm, damp hug, smelling green and earthy, like digging your hands into soil after rain. Liam had strung up fairy lights and paper lanterns earlier, weaving them through the big leafy plants, trying to make the place look less like a biology project and more like... well, something special. He nervously wiped down the wine glasses for maybe the tenth time, the condensation instantly blooming again on the cool glass. This whole thing felt slightly insane. Good insane, hopefully.

He risked a glance at his reflection in the dark water of the little fountain. The black turtleneck you liked? Check. Hair recently, nervously, trimmed? Check. A definite blush creeping up his neck that no amount of studied nonchalance could hide? Double check. Damn it. He shoved his hands in his pockets, fingers immediately finding the small, square bulge of the velvet box. His heart did a weird little flip-flop, like it was trying out a new drum beat. Proposing. The word echoed in his head, huge and terrifying and ridiculously exciting all at once. To you.

God, you. He still couldn't quite believe you were his. After Zara... well, after Zara, everything had felt grey and muffled, like listening to music underwater. Then you had stepped in, Zara's best friend, unbelievably enough, steady and funny and warm. You hadn't tried to fix him, just... been there. Laughed at his dumb jokes, listened to his rambling thoughts, fell asleep with his head on your stomach while you watched crappy old movies. You felt like coming home, but a home he hadn't known existed. Loving you felt different. Solid. Real. Not like the shaky, performative thing he'd had before. This felt quiet and deep, like roots taking hold.

Getting your ring size had been pure spy-movie farce. He'd tried measuring your finger with a piece of thread while you slept, only for you to swat his hand away in your dreams. He'd squinted at the cheap silver rings you sometimes wore, trying to mentally compare them to his own pinky. He'd even caved and texted Zara, swallowing the awkwardness like acid. 'Hey, random Q, your ring size?' Surprisingly, she'd just sent back the number. No drama. Weird. But worth it.

He'd picked up extra shifts, pouring endless coffees, smelling perpetually of roasted beans, saving every penny for this ring. White gold, with a diamond that caught the light just right. He pictured it on your finger, a little spark against your skin. He wanted to give you something beautiful, something that lasted. Something that said everything he struggled to put into actual words.

A soft sound from the entrance – the crunch of shoes on the path, the gentle sigh of the greenhouse door. His breath hitched. Okay, Callahan, deep breaths. Don't trip. Don't babble. Just... be normal. Which was, of course, completely impossible right now.

You appeared in the doorway, silhouetted against the evening light filtering through the glass panes. You looked incredible, wearing that dress he loved, the one that made your eyes look even brighter. Your gaze found his, widening slightly in surprise, then softening into that smile that always, always made his stomach do a slow, pleasant dive.

Suddenly, all the cool, witty lines he'd half-planned evaporated. His throat felt tight. He just walked towards you, his hand finding yours like it always did, fingers slotting together. Your hand felt small and warm in his, grounding him. He led you over to the little table he'd set up near the fountain, the lantern light making patterns on the stone floor. His palm was definitely sweating now. Brilliant.

He opened his mouth to say something charming, something smooth. Nothing came out. Panic flickered. What if he blew this? What if the words got stuck? What if you... laughed? No, you wouldn't laugh. Not like that. But the fear was there, cold and sharp, a ghost of past hurts.

His eyes landed on his guitar case, propped up nearby like an old friend waiting patiently. An idea sparked, desperate and maybe brilliant. 'Hang on,' he murmured, letting go of your hand for a second. 'Forgot the mood music.'

He pulled out his battered acoustic, the familiar weight settling against him like an exhale. Sitting on the edge of the fountain, he didn't look at you directly at first. He just let his fingers find the chords, the opening notes of the song he'd been piecing together for you in snatched moments between classes and shifts. It wasn't fancy, maybe a little rough around the edges, but every note felt true. He poured everything into it – the relief, the gratitude, the slightly dizzying feeling of being completely, terrifyingly in love.

When the last note faded, the silence felt different. Charged. Expectant. He finally looked up, meeting your eyes. There were tears shining there, and your expression was soft, open, full of something that made his heart ache in the best possible way.

This was it. No more hiding.

He carefully set the guitar aside and slid off the fountain ledge, his knee hitting the cool stone floor before he'd fully registered the decision. It just felt... right. He fumbled for the box, his fingers clumsy with nerves. Clicking it open felt like the loudest sound in the world. The diamond winked up at you in the soft light.

He looked up at your face, trying to memorize the exact way you looked right now. His voice was shaky, stripped bare of all the usual jokes and sarcasm.

'You,' he started, the name feeling heavy and important on his tongue. 'I'm... not great at this stuff. You know that.' A shaky laugh escaped him. 'I mess things up. I hide behind jokes. And after Zara... I didn't think I could trust anyone like this again. Didn't think I wanted to. You know what they say... sometimes you find exactly what you weren't looking for, right when you need it most.'

He took a breath, locking his gaze with yours, needing you to see the honesty, the sheer, terrifying vulnerability of this moment. 'But you... you're different. You make everything make sense. You make me make sense. You saved me. You see me.' He swallowed hard, all the love he felt, this huge, unwieldy, terrifying emotion, swelling in his chest. 'God, I love you. So damn much. More than I knew was possible.'

The words hung there, simple and raw.

'Will you marry me?'