Epilogue

Golden hour (n.) The period shortly after sunrise and shortly before sunset, varying by season, in which the sun is low in the sky producing a soft, diffuse light that adds texture and depth to an image. Also referred to as “magic hour.”

 

2 February 2019

 

Scott has transformed Jason’s office into a temporary photography studio, complete with lights and a small flash umbrella. It’s taken them a while to get Jason posed, and now he’s situated in front of his bookshelf at just the right height. With the lighting perfect and his subject seated comfortably, Scott should be having an easy time of it, but Jason is fidgeting and making faces, acting as if no one has ever taken a picture of him before.

“Would you sit still please? And look professional, or…smart.”

Jason pouts. “Why can’t we use that picture you took of me in Bangkok? That was a good one.”

Scott drops his camera from his face and rolls his eyes. He knows exactly what picture Jason is talking about, where he stood on the hotel balcony with the dusky night behind him. The picture sits on Scott’s bedside cabinet, right next to the picture of the two of them that Olivia took at their flat-warming party. The last of the sun gave off warm reddish light, and Jason seemed to glow.

“Because you had no shirt on in that picture. And you were sunburned.”

“You’re quite picky,” Jason gripes, adjusting his fringe again.

“Well, Jesus, this is a big conference. There’ll be lots of bigwigs there. Can’t have a racy picture of you in the program, can we? Honestly, this will take two seconds.” Scott raises his camera and finds Jason in the frame. The book Jason contributed a chapter to is just over his shoulder on the shelf, along with Jason’s favourite Buddha and the pretty painted tile they found in Florence.

“Right, right.” Jason takes a breath and shakes his arms out, trying to loosen up. He puts on a pleasant, professional smile.

“There. That’s it. Lift your chin a bit. Not that much. Yes.” Scott clicks the shutter, advances the film, and takes another. Jason’s mouth stays still, but his eyes soften as though he can look right into Scott’s heart through the camera. Scott clicks again. That’s it. That’s the one.

Jason crosses his eyes before Scott can take a fourth. “Did you get it?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Jason slides off the chair and shrugs his shoulders as if shaking off a costume. “Do you know what I want to do?”

I want to marry you. “What?”

He steps closer, looking Scott up and down, then takes the camera from him and places it on his desk. “I want to go home.”

His cheeks are suddenly beautifully flushed. He traces up the line of buttons on Scott’s shirt, then slides his hand beneath the collar. “I want to get under the covers and make love, hmm?” Jason leans in and brushes their cheeks together. He smells of orange and pine and the sea, and his breath is soft in Scott’s ear.

“Love, love, love. And more love.”