Chapter Text
Prologue
Weddings are meant to be the first day of your new life, but as Antonio looked at Mary, he knew this was not the case. This wasn’t his wedding, and this wasn’t his day. Mr and Mrs Chavez were eating cake and laughing with each other, a picture of domestic bliss. Antonio wasn’t fooled, he’d seen the groom talk to the bride earlier that day.
“I thought I ordered blue flowers?” Mary had been confused, her dainty hand caressing the white petals of an orchid.
“I changed it. White fits a wedding far better.” Mr Chavez explained. Mary seemed unconvinced,
“And you didn’t tell me?” The groom had smiled knowingly, green eyes patronisingly pitiful.
“Oh, honey, I saved you from embarrassment, you were being your usual stupid self. Blue would have been awful – you’re welcome.” He dismissed her concern. Mary had shrugged it off and smiled,
“I suppose, it's nice how you look out for me.”
“Of course.” The groom closed the distance between them and planted a kiss on her forehead, “Anything for you. Just trust me a little more, okay?” Mary was silent. “Okay?” The groom repeated, more forceful, his voice threatening. It became painfully obvious how much stronger and taller than Mary Mr Chavez was. Mary nodded and looked up at him, her tanned skin soft in the morning light.
“Okay.”
Antonio snatched an olive from the buffet and chewed on it in his frustration, eyeing the groom up and down with a mixture of disappointment and jealousy. Maybe he’d read the situation wrong, maybe it was his temper that had made him hear manipulative words where there was only love. No matter, he still felt that cold rock of anger in the pit of his stomach. He'd decided a long time ago that if manipulation was what it took to come out on top, he'd master the art himself. In the end, however, Mr Chavez had been better at the art than Antonio. As such, Antonio now resolved to beat Mr Chavez, by any means possible.
Antonio cast his eyes around the wedding tent. It was spacious and white, with a small disco ball hanging from the ceiling. Rows and rows of low tables with assortments of meat, cheese and desserts lined one end of the tent. The other was left bare for the guests to dance. If it could be called dancing. Woven lanterns of pink, blue and green hung above his head, glowing annoyingly.
“Dance with me!” Chirped one of the bridesmaid's, dressed in blue with brown, shoulder length hair. Her cheeks were flushed red from wine, her frame dancing with the light from the woven lanterns. Antonio dragged his hazel eyes up and down her, his nose crinkled in distaste. The bridesmaid pouted, “Men always pull at weddings,” she protested, wrapping her arm around his. He stiffened, his gaze not dropping from hers. She was pretty, it would certainly be normal for him to seduce a women. It was almost expected at weddings. He glanced in the direction of the happy couple, then set on his best smile, flashing perfectly straight teeth, and turned back to the woman.
“I suppose men do, the question, therefore, isn’t when they will pull, but whom.” The women tilted her head and fluttered her eyes far too quickly, letting out a small laugh. Antonio took in a deep breath, “Shall we?” He gestured to the dance floor. They made their way to the open space and began swaying awkwardly. “So, how is it you know Mary?” He asked as they began to dance, the music slow and dull.
“We went to university together.” She murmured, trying her best to keep in time with the song, and doing an acceptable job. Antonio gave a nod, getting into the groove, leading her around with precision and confidence. He gave her a twirl and swept her back into his arms. She gave a small yelp of surprise and then a giggle of excitement.
“Are you still well acquainted?” Antonio pushed. She shrugged, a little perplexed now,
“I would hope so, I am her bridesmaid…” She paused, then, “By the way, my name’s-”
“Lovely, I’m sure.” Antonio cut across. “Do you know what Mr and Mrs Chavez plan to do after this?” The bridesmaid was further confused but complied with his questioning none-the less.
“They’re going on their honey moon. Didn’t you know?”
“Of course I did, but where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is Emma going with them?”
“No, Janichen is babysitting her until-”
“What time are they leaving tomorrow?”
“I don’t… I-”
“Are clearly of no use.” Antonio shoved her away from him and stalked off the dance floor, hands in his suit’s pockets. The bridesmaid stared after him dumbfounded.
Antonio waited out the rest of the evening in a darkened corner, spitefully eyeing the guests as they mindlessly milled around the reception, greeting and gossiping with each other. He gave appropriate comments and responses where prompted by those brave enough to interact with him. Merry spirits were lofted by the sweet taste of alcohol, and the rowdy crowd had only grown more insufferable. Antonio knew that now was not the time to act. Patience. He told himself, coddling the cold, dark anger inside of him, Patience.
And so, later that night, once the wine glasses lay empty and the buffet bare, once even the rowdiest of the crowd had retreated to their beds, Antonio found himself walking in the dark. His gloved hands clenched, resolving to act at last. Before the Chavez’s left in the morning.
The sky warmed with the slightest hint of morning’s yellow light, the birds chattering amongst the leaves. Antonio himself was exhausted after a night of small talk and pointless socialising. Business was one thing, it held purpose, climbing the ladder and making connections, but the filth of humans gathered at the wedding had been utterly useless, and might as well have been a pile of corpses. He approached from the front, the small house’s appearance assured him of the lack of security. Antonio took the briefest of moments to try the front door, just in case. Naturally, it was locked, so he circled around the back, hopping the small, peeling garden fence. He snuck in the back door, aware of the key hidden under a false rock. He would have crept up the stairs, but Mary was awake and in the kitchen. A steaming mug was clasped in her shaking hands and she was facing out the window, into the garden. Or rather, up into the sky, gazing intently into the distance. It didn’t take much stealth for Antonio to close the distance. That rock of anger in his stomach was bubbling with heat, turning to lava. His breath caught as his temper began to overtake him. The false rock outside was still in place as if no one had touched it. But the very real, very solid, rock next to it was gone, held tightly in Antonio’s right, gloved hand.
Weddings are meant to be the first day of your new life, but for Mary, it was her last.