Then they'd better hope there's a box of tissues in this room, because...
There are several things about which Arthur is shamed or reserved. Poetry is absolutely not one of them. He flashes a smile, pleased by Crichton's request, and then finds one of Crichton's hands with his own, and smoothly he starts to recite.
It's a sonnet, and a shorter verse than Crichton's, since Arthur had to compose and remember it mostly without the benefit of, uh, writing (he's working on it). There are some self-aware wordplay flourishes -- a symptom of him wanting to show off in front of his boyfriend -- but other than that it's starkly sincere, an ode to someone who has saved him from despair and loneliness and given him love and hope. From the first line to the last couplet it is unapologetically romantic.
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There are several things about which Arthur is shamed or reserved. Poetry is absolutely not one of them. He flashes a smile, pleased by Crichton's request, and then finds one of Crichton's hands with his own, and smoothly he starts to recite.
It's a sonnet, and a shorter verse than Crichton's, since Arthur had to compose and remember it mostly without the benefit of, uh, writing (he's working on it). There are some self-aware wordplay flourishes -- a symptom of him wanting to show off in front of his boyfriend -- but other than that it's starkly sincere, an ode to someone who has saved him from despair and loneliness and given him love and hope. From the first line to the last couplet it is unapologetically romantic.