Chapter 40

"Pack up these balloons, will ya? Are you outta your mind? Don't you know hydrogen balloons go boom when they meet an open flame?" Brian snapped.

"I was so caught up in trying to surprise you that it totally slipped my mind," William admitted sheepishly.

"Surprise? More like a heart attack!" Brian retorted. He quickly started gathering the balloons. "This is seriously unsafe. They don't even let kids play with these anymore. Too risky."

William had been so focused on being romantic that he didn't think things through. Now he was paying the price. He hurriedly grabbed the dozens of balloons left in the room and released them out the window. He was silent, scrubbing the floor vigorously, hoping his hard work would earn Brian's forgiveness.

It seemed like every time he tried to do something, it ended in some unexpected disaster.

"You're gonna be the death of me one of these days," Brian muttered.

Brian looked at the carpet. There was a burnt patch the size of a washbasin. It was a handmade carpet with vibrant colors and patterns symbolizing good fortune. Now it had a big, ugly hole. His heart ached.

"I'll buy you a new carpet, exactly like this one," William offered.

"William Wang, can you please, for once, do something that doesn't end in chaos? If you can't, can you just sit still and not touch anything? Are you trying to test the limits of my patience on purpose?" Brian was exasperated.

They'd been home for thirty minutes, and twenty of those were spent putting out a fire. The TV was ruined, the sofa needed reupholstering, and the carpet was toast. So much for romance.

"Come on, don't be like that. We just had our first kiss, and now you're talking about divorce? That's not fair!" William pleaded.

Brian sighed, exhausted. Being with William was more tiring than work. He had to be on high alert every second.

He couldn't help but wonder how William managed to get anything done with his knack for creating chaos.

People say that marrying a young guy is like being prepared to be a father, cleaning up after him. But what about marrying a walking disaster? You'd need the patience of a saint not to strangle him every time he messes up.

You never know what he's going to do next. Every minute is a gamble.

"I need to get insurance. Like, accident insurance," Brian muttered.

Maybe he'd break a bone, or their place would explode, or he'd get food poisoning. Anything could happen. He should get insurance. At least if he died, he'd leave something behind for his family.

"You do realize if you kick the bucket, I'm the one who inherits everything, right?" William pointed out.

Spouses are the first in line for inheritance.

"I'll leave a note. If I die under mysterious circumstances, you're the prime suspect," Brian said through gritted teeth.

"I won't let anything happen to you. These were just accidents," William tried to soothe Brian, with a puppy-dog expression.

"Babe, please don't be mad. I promise, next time I try to be romantic, I won't mix it with anything dangerous. I just wanted to make you smile," William pleaded.

"I seriously doubt your IQ," Brian sighed.

"I know I messed up. How about I make it up to you with an even bigger romantic gesture tomorrow?" William suggested hopefully.

Brian looked helpless. "If it's not hydrogen balloons and candles, it'll be something else. This isn't what romance is about. It's not about being hasty and thoughtless. I don't like candlelit dinners, flowers, balloons, love poems, or watching stars on the beach or sunrises on mountaintops. All that stuff is just silly, dumb, and a waste of time and money. Don't bother, and don't expect me to play along. I don't need that kind of superficiality."

"What am I supposed to do now? All my plans involved those things and you just shot them all down," William looked genuinely distressed.

"Being in a relationship is way more complicated than any mission I've ever been on," William almost wailed. He was at his wit's end. He had no idea how to make Brian happy, and he felt like he was running out of chances.

All the grand romantic gestures he could think of, and the ideas his friend Theodore had given him, were now off the table. He had to go back to the drawing board.