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The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, and Ryo sat on the edge of the hotel bed, watching Jamie pace back and forth for the thousandth time. He was nursing a headache, and a can of Diet Coke from the mini-fridge. He pressed his knuckles deep into his eye sockets, trying fruitlessly to mash his brain back into one piece.
“Something’s gonna go wrong today,” Jamie was saying. His socked feet were wearing holes into the carpet. His bathrobe flapped along behind him. Bride-to-be was embroidered in silver thread over the heart, but Ryo didn’t think now was the best time to tell him. “I don’t know what it is yet, but I know it’s gonna happen. I can sense it.”
Ryo kicked out his leg off the side of the bed, and Jamie walked right into it. “Chill out.”
Jamie didn’t stop pacing. His voice was a nervous half-octave higher than normal. “I’m fine. No. I don’t know.”
“You’re driving me crazy. Take a breath.” Ryo said, and kicked at him again.
Jamie turned on his heel and levelled him with a truly pitiful expression. Ryo couldn’t tell if it was wedding jitters or the hangover. He handed him a lukewarm water bottle from the bedside table. Jamie took it, stared at it like he’d never seen such a thing before, then put it back down. He went back to pacing.
“What if my suit rips? I’m going to set something on fire. Oh shit, what if I set something on fire?” He was tugging nervously at one of the locs that had slipped out from under his durag. His free hand sent a rain of tiny sparks fluttering down to the ground, as if to prove his point. Ryo groaned, and flopped backwards onto the bed, narrowly avoiding upending his drink onto himself. “You were right, we should’ve eloped, what was I thinking?”
“First of all, that was a joke,” Ryo said to the ceiling. “And secondly, I’m your best man. I will actually kill somebody if it keeps this wedding on track.”
Jamie and Sunwoo had planned two ceremonies- first, a private paebaek ceremony with their families, and then a larger, more Western-style affair in the evening. Ryo had strongarmed the role of wedding planner for the second ceremony away from Jamie, after he’d stayed up too many nights in a row, nervously filling up six ring binders and Pinterest boards.
Ryo had argued that he would be perfect for the job, because he wouldn’t be so blinded by love that he’d spend an extra ten thousand dollars on the decor. Jamie, too emotional by half at the time, had agreed. The perks of being a cynic.
Jamie made an anxious sound, one that was more of a squeak than anything. “I’m serious,” Ryo insisted. His attempt at a placating tone came out gruff. “Listen to me- you’re my best friend. I care about you, and I won’t let anything bad happen.”
Silence. Not even the muffled sound of anxious pacing. Silence from Jamie was rarely a good sign, so Ryo lifted his head. Ah.
“Are you... crying?”
Jamie sniffled. “No.”
Ryo sat up again. Jamie was dabbing at his eyes with the corner of his fiancée’s bathrobe. “Bro.”
Jamie took a deep breath. “I just appreciate you so much.” He put a hand on Ryo’s shoulder and squeezed. His head was tipped up towards the ceiling, and he was blinking furiously. “I love her so much, and I love you too, bro, and-”
Ryo, horrified, felt his eyes starting to sting. “You’re going to be fine,” he said, and patted Jamie’s hand. “I got you, bro.”
Jamie exhaled gustily. “God, we said bro so many times,” he said, and then giggled wetly. “We sound like frat boys in a locker room.”
Ryo cracked a grin, swinging a loose punch at Jamie’s arm. “Well, bro, you’ve got twenty minutes before the hairdresser gets here, and you can’t go in without clothes on.”
Jamie looked at himself, seemingly for the first time that morning. His eyes widened. “Oh, fuck-”
“The suit’s ironed and hanging in the bathroom,” Ryo said, thanking his last-night self for the foresight. Jamie gave him a double thumbs up, disappearing around the corner. Ryo gave himself a moment, squeezing his eyes closed against the light, then begrudgingly peeled himself out of bed to change.
By the time he was out of the shower, Jamie was gone. Ryo put on his suit, fussed over his hair for too long, and then went down to the hotel lobby for breakfast. He checked and re-checked through the wedding spreadsheet on the elevator ride down.
Elbowing his way through a family of four at the buffet, he staked his claim beside the coffee maker while he inhaled a bowl of dry cereal. Then, once he’d caffeinated himself enough to feel human again, he set about his second mission.
The first plate was loaded with waffles, and he was picking through the selection of fresh fruit when his phone vibrated with an incoming message. Juggling plates, he fished it out of his pocket, and bit down on a grin when he saw the sender.
Vincent: Do you think it’s too early for murder? I’m at my wits’ end.
Vincent: Be glad you’re not organising retail, chéri.
Ryo snorted inelegantly. They’d been trading texts since their last joint mission, back before Vincent had been sent off to France on business, and Ryo had kept on at the agency. Not flirting- no, nothing like that, just. Something else. He typed back with one hand, balancing the plates and his coffee with the other.
Ryo: Glad to see the wedding stress isn’t getting to you.
Vincent: Please. You know I can take more than this.
He signed off with three purple heart emojis and a winky-face. Ridiculous. Ryo put his phone back in his pocket, rolling his eyes as it kept buzzing away, and headed back to the elevator, hoping his blush would dissipate on the ride up.
The bridal suite was on the floor directly above Jamie’s room, though up until the bachelor and bachelorette parties, they’d refused to be parted, deliriously in love as they were. Ryo knocked with his foot, and from somewhere inside, the bride called for him to enter.
Sunwoo sat with her legs propped up on a second chair, the skirt of her red hanbok spilling out around her ankles. Her hair was half-done, a few errant strands being attacked relentlessly by Klara and her can of hairspray. Ryo set the breakfast down on her vanity.
“Hey man,” she said, tapping at her phone’s screen. “How’s everything?”
“Jamie’s chill,” he lied, and she nodded, reaching forward for a piece of papaya. He came around to stand on her left and realised that Sunwoo was playing Subway Surfers on her phone. She had a hundred thousand points.
“Well I’ve got everything covered in here,” Klara said, brandishing her straightening iron. She’d built it herself, and it could heat to temperatures Ryo doubted were safe. She’d volunteered herself when they’d been searching for a hairdresser- and though Ryo had initially held doubts, she was proving herself yet again. “We’re gonna finish hair and makeup, and then meet outside for photos in a bit?”
Ryo nodded, and Klara gave him a grin as she turned back to the vanity. While her back was turned, Ryo took the opportunity to lean over Sunwoo’s shoulder, and whisper in her ear.
“He’s nervous,” he muttered, and her face went all soft and tender. “Walked in circles all morning.” Then, after a beat: “Don’t tell him I told you.”
She smiled a big, sappy smile, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. The angle was awkward, him half-bent over her chair, but still she pressed her face in his shoulder and squeezed him tight. “Holy fuck,” she muttered into his ear, “I love that man so goddamn much.”
Ryo hid a smile in her hair. “I know,” he replied. “It’s pretty great.”
The quiet lasted until Sunwoo’s phone made a noise as her character ran face-first into a barrier. They laughed, and separated, and Ryo smoothed down his suit. Sunwoo dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a tissue. “Be glad I’m not wearing foundation yet.” she sniffed, and he surreptitiously brushed off the corner of his suit, just in case.
“He’ll be down in a bit,” Ryo said. Then, teasing, “Your future husband.”
“God, get the hell out of here before you make me start crying, I’m already emotional enough as it is,” she said, smiling. Ryo rolled his eyes, and put his hands in his pockets.
“I’ve got time to kill before the service, so I’ll be around,” he said. “Give me a call if you need anything. Even if it’s just Jamie-wrangling.”
Sunwoo gave him a sly smile.
“Actually, if you’ve got nothing else to do, I think I saw you-know-who wandering around downstairs.” Ryo’s heart gave a traitorous stutter- so close- but he said nothing. She winked at him- and wow, she was bad at it, scrunching up her whole face. “I think he’s going to set some stuff up at the venue, if you want to go, you know...” She tried to elbow him in the side, but missed, and whacked him in the thigh.
Ryo gave her a deadpan look, though he can tell that she wasn’t fooled. There wasn’t much point in arguing with her, once she’d set herself to something. “You’re a conniving woman,” he said dryly, and she giggled.
“You betcha. Now shoo.”
The venue itself was as close to perfect as was physically possible- Ryo knew, because he had practically shed blood over it. A shimmering veranda of white and gold faced the water off the hall, with a sprawling back garden leading down to a picturesque lake.
Ryo stepped off the shuttle bus, and took a moment to fix his cuffs and smooth down the front of his suit. He ran his fingers through his hair, and wished, not for the first time, that he’d had the foresight to grab his comb before he’d left the hotel.
Vincent had flown in two nights ago, according to the text he’d sent when his plane had landed (three kissy-face emoticons, and a blue heart. Jamie had laughed himself sick), but Ryo had been too caught up with the bachelor party prep to meet with him.
They’d not seen each other at all, really, not since the engagement party, and that had been back in May. Hell, even that had been barely half of a conversation, shouted to each other over the noise of the bar. Four months of careful, plausibly-deniable-not-flirtation over text, and of impersonal, thirty-second voicemails, left when the other was sleeping, thousands of kilometres away.
According to Raze, this was what the kids were calling a talking stage , and had tried to explain the concept to him over one too many drinks one night. Ryo didn’t really care- the same way he didn’t really care whenever Vincent would reply to his messages, far too early to be anything other than deliberate.
Unbearable.
But of course, their reunion was no more polished than anything else they’d ever shared. Ryo entered the main building through the side door, ducking beneath the bunches of balloons that had yet to be set up. He picked his way through the narrow hallway, nearly stumbling over a box of left-over vases, cursing.
The hall was high-ceilinged and gorgeous, with tables set up in a diamond pattern. Ryo, still smarting from the cluttered hall, nearly walked straight into a table, as he finally caught sight of his target. His breath hitched in his chest- how embarrassing- and his steps click, click, clicked to a halt. Vincent was bent over, elbow-deep in a mass of pink and white flowers, his shirtsleeves rolled up. He was hissing orders in French into the cellphone that was wedged between his ear and shoulder.
Ryo whistled lowly, just to see Vincent cast an annoyed look over his shoulder. The scowl on his face melted at the edges when he caught sight of him- and then dropped entirely when Ryo waved, a dumb little gesture. That dimple at the corner of his mouth- how could Ryo have forgotten how it looked?
Ryo dragged his eyes over Vincent, not bothering to conceal himself in the slightest. Vincent wore a dark grey suit, the fabric shimmering with a subtle pattern. His collar was unbuttoned, revealing a sliver of the pale skin of his throat.
“Excusez-moi, s’il vous plait- Ryo, are you going to stand there, or will you come and lend me a hand?” Vincent asked, haughty and presumptive but his eyes were already laughing. Ryo took off his suit jacket, and folded it over a nearby chair. It had been too long.
“Where’s the florist?” Ryo asked, as Vincent piled fragrant blossoms into his arms. “I thought they were supposed to handle all this.”
Vincent rolled his eyes, and held up a finger with his free hand. A few more muttered threats, and a barrage of French insults, and he ended the call with a sigh, clicking the phone closed with a flourish. He pushed his glasses further up his nose. “The florist was double-booked. I had to manage the order myself.”
“Wow,” Ryo drawled. “I think I’d just kill myself, honestly.”
Vincent waved a spray bottle in his face as if it were a pistol. “Don’t tempt me.” He pointed to the empty vases on the top of each of the tables. “I’ve got to fill each of these before the ceremony. So, I’m kidnapping you.”
“You know, I’m sure we could get some of the bridal party to help with this too,” Ryo said, but he set the flowers down onto the plastic tarp, and moved back to Vincent for a new batch.
“Why on Earth would I do that?” Vincent asked, and patted Ryo’s wrist fondly. His nails were painted with tiny golden accents. “I’ve already got you.” It was a sweet sentiment, at least until Vincent turned on his heels and whacked the back of his hand, open-palmed. “And be gentler with the orchids, you brute.”
Ryo obediently moved over to the table, and Vincent sidled up closer, his long fingers careful on the delicate stems. Ryo didn’t know which he thought was prettier. “Is this at all related to the murder from earlier?”
Vincent smiled, a sharp-looking expression. “Unfortunately, they didn’t want to come out and face me directly.” He looked serene, like he often did on a battlefield. “Cowardice will be the death of the flower industry.”
Ryo laughed openly. “You’re ridiculous.”
He watched Vincent arrange the flowers in a vase, and then set about recreating the look on his own. The whole time, he felt over-aware of Vincent at his side, behind him- sharing the same space. His body kept wanting to turn to him, to set aside the carefulness of their distance and look at him head-on.
He didn’t. The orchids went into their vases in perfect, white-pink pairs. Vincent orbited him, and he, in turn, moved in slow circles, table after table. Their paths were deliberately distinct, crossing only at the peripheries.
“After this, I have a truck full of roses to be arranged. Tabarnac, this is too much for one person,” Vincent complained. He looked at Ryo across the table over the top of his glasses. “You’d better cancel your plans for the afternoon,” he teased, “because I’m stealing you away.”
You don’t even have to try, Ryo thought. He slipped two orchids into a vase, ducking his head. “When the groom-zilla comes to kill me, I’m sending her right to you,” he replied. Vincent’s answering chuckle carried him onward.
The day melted away in a gust of floral perfume and quiet conversation. Despite the joking, they made a good team, working meticulously through the flowers, then the candle arrangements. They’d paused only briefly for lunch, which they’d taken out on the hill, looking down at where the ceremony was to be held.
Still, Ryo had caught himself looking over his shoulder, just for the satisfaction of seeing Vincent there, in the flesh. Cat-and-mouse, they caught each others’ eye for a second, only to pretend otherwise, until there was nothing more to do. Guests began to arrive in waves, and there they split once more; Vincent, charming as he was, to usher everyone along, and Ryo to his best friend.
The service at the lake began just as the sun began its downward descent onto the still, crystalline lake. The water gleamed a brilliant, fire-bright orange, and Ryo stood at the end of the aisle, right next to the groom.
Ryo’s fingers still stung from the thorns he’d handled all afternoon at Vincent’s not-so-gentle behest, but that didn’t stop him from gripping tight at Jamie’s hand, a second’s reassurance. Jamie took a shaking breath, meeting his eyes for a second, and nodded. He let go, his dark eyes never leaving the aisle, where she would emerge.
By nature, Ryo had never been a romantic. He leaned too far towards cynicism, was standoffish, and rude, and got outvoted five to one every time a rom-com was up for movie night. There had never really been a reason for him to ever consider anything else.
The music started then, a slow, swelling melody loosed from the strings of a violin. And Sunwoo emerged into the courtyard, resplendent in a gown of silver and white. Her hair had come loose from its bun, and fell loosely around her face, white and wispy. Ryo could hear as Jamie’s breath caught in his throat.
But sometimes, in moments between missions, in before-dawn phone calls, and watching Jamie slowly lose his mind trying to make this wedding perfect, he thought that maybe, just maybe, there was something to it after all.
Sunwoo’s smile was so wide it was hard to look at directly. Her eyes were fixed on her husband-to-be, bright and determined, and she almost stumbled over herself as she walked, so eager to stand at his side. The train of her dress floated along behind her, swept up in her wind, carrying her across the distance that separated them.
Jamie, for his part, had not taken a proper breath since she’d first made an appearance. He was staring at her as if she was the world incarnate. And then she was there, smiling up at him. Ryo had to take a deep breath and look at the ground for a few seconds, tears starting to well up in his eyes.
They’d badgered at Brimstone for weeks before he’d agreed to be the one officiating the ceremony- and now he stood behind them, looking sharp in a dark grey suit and smiling wide. Sunwoo took Jamie’s hands in her own, and they clung to each other, hopelessly, impossibly in love.
They’d written their own vows, because of course they had. Sunwoo started with a story of when they’d first met: how he’d tripped up the stairs at the main base, and she’d caught him midair, leaving him hovering right before he could hit the ground.
“Knocked me off my feet, right then and there,” Jamie cut in, smiling. The audience tittered.
She continued- how he’d spent long nights in the kitchen with her, when sleep wouldn’t come, and how she’d asked him out first, blushing from head to toe. The snowball of their romance from there. Her light eyes were wet when she promised to love him for as long as she drew breath. Sunwoo couldn’t look away from him, ignoring the cue cards she was crumpling in her fist.
Jamie took her hand in his shaking grip, and when he began, it was quiet, his voice trembling, like a secret meant only for her. He told her that he loved her- that he would be with her at every moment, every ugly, awful thing she would ever have to endure.
It felt too intimate to watch head-on, dizzying and intense. Without thinking, Ryo’s gaze slipped out to the crowd, not searching consciously.
When he finally found Vincent tucked away in the rows, oh h ell , he was already looking back.
Ryo tore his gaze away, down to his thorn-pricked fingers.
From there it was easy: cocktails, speeches, dinner. Music loud enough to drown out any thoughts that had taken root in his heart, and lights dim enough that he might pretend not to see anyone looking to catch his eye.
Ryo made it through his speech at dinner without injury- Jamie had laughed, and tackled him into a hug at the end of it, jokingly pretending to muss up his hair, Sunwoo getting up to embrace him properly, tears shiny in her eyes. Ryo’s voice had broken, telling them how much he loved them both. He downed a shot with the newlyweds at the end, the Fireball burning all the way down.
The dancing was as predictable and terrible as Ryo had known his friends to be. He watched as Klara and Tayane sailed by, cackling and spinning each other ‘round and ‘round, and as Brim danced in his clumsy, old-man way. The bride and groom were in their own little world, wrapped up in each others’ arms and orbiting the floor.
He lingered on the edge of the floor, back to the wood paneling. A drink in hand, and it was enough to smile at everyone dancing. To nod when Jamie sent him a look, that one that meant are-you-okay, and I-care-about-you.
There was the imprint of eyes, heavy on his back, but Ryo didn’t turn. He finished his drink, then another, and amusedly watched Mateo and the rest of the kids bounce up and down to Gangnam Style.
The music retreating to quiet, slow songs, and there was nothing save a few lingering couples out on the floor, when Ryo set his drink down on the table closest to him. The grand windows showed the pitch-dark sky outside, and he turned his back to them- turning towards the man standing beside him.
Vincent had an eye on him, as he’d had for most of the night. Ryo hadn’t spoken of it, hadn’t addressed it, lest Vincent look away. Or worse, that he wouldn’t have. Now, he leaned forward on one elbow, braced against the wall, his teeth glinting as he grinned at Ryo.
“I seem to be running out of chances to ask you to dance,” he murmured. The golden light reflected off the chandelier above them, the crystal flutes of champagne, the lenses of his glasses. Ryo thumbed the rim of his drink. If he downed it, he might be drunk enough to face this head-on.
“It’s late,” Ryo said. Vincent scoffed. The hall was lit only by small, flickering lights, casting shadows over Vincent’s face, in every spot that wasn’t dripping with the golden glow. He was smiling, that faint, teasing smile that Ryo had only ever seen him wear when he was staring down the sights of a rifle. Vincent reached across the table, and drew Ryo’s hand from the glass, and held it carefully.
“It is a wedding.” He tightened his grip on Ryo’s hand, and in a smooth motion, tugged him to his feet and away from the table. “It would be a shame to deny ourselves this, don’t you think?”
This is a bad idea, Ryo thought.
“I’m never going to hear the end of this,” he muttered, and then pulled Vincent in by the wrist. Vincent smiled, too bright to be truly slick, and he walked them to the edge of the dance floor. The music had shifted to something slower, something far too intimate.
Vincent put one hand on Ryo’s waist, and kept their hands intertwined. Ryo slid his hand up from Vincent’s shoulder to the curve of his neck, just a hair shy of the proper placement. At their first step, he stumbled over his feet, too lost in the high of sharing the same air.
Vincent caught him up, his eyes too knowing, too sharp. He spun them around, so Ryo’s back was to the rest of the hall. Like he knew exactly what Ryo wasn’t willing to face. This close, he could smell the hot, spicy scent of Vincent’s aftershave, and the subtle, quiet scent beneath it- something uniquely masculine and specific to the man himself.
“I was glad to see you today,” Vincent said lowly. “I have missed you, in our time apart.”
Ryo stepped to the side, half a second before the beat. “You could see me anytime you wanted,” he deflected. “You know where to find me.” It was half a confession.
“If I didn’t know you so well, I’d think that was permission,” Vincent said. His gaze was quick and dark, flitting about Ryo’s face. “I’d think that you wanted me to do that.” Step, and step, and turn. “To find you.”
A beat. Ryo was too aware of the meagre height difference between them. He lingered on Vincent’s boutonniere, a tulip, red and pristine.
“I thought you weren’t one for dating,” he said carefully.
“I could say the same about you,” Vincent replied. “But I don’t think either of us said anything about relationships.” Click, Ryo thought, bang. But Vincent’s palms were sweating ever so slightly, Ryo noticed. It was clumsily charming, in a way that he rarely was, tapping defiant cracks in his poised persona.
“I made a guess,” Ryo said eventually. “I thought-”
He trailed off. They continued their dance, pushing and pulling and carefully holding one another, long enough that the song ended, and a new one took its place.
“You thought?” Vincent prompted.
Ryo sighed, his shoulders dropping. He was starting to feel the fatigue of the day, bearing down on his shoulders. It would be easy, now more than it had ever been, to bend, to let himself reach for it.
“I thought you were suggesting something,” he said. “I thought you had been suggesting something.”
Vincent’s hand was heavy in his own. He wouldn’t meet Ryo’s eye. “I might have been,” he said.
He was focusing on a spot over Ryo’s shoulder. Ryo’s stomach did a funny little squirm. He stepped on Vincent’s toe on the next beat, only half an accident. Vincent just smiled at him, the practised, close-lipped smirk melting away like the ice in their drinks.
“I was,” he amended. “I was suggesting- was asking.” Vincent’s hand on his waist tightened momentarily. And in an exhale, rough with honesty, “Dieu, you make a mess of me, you devil.”
And Ryo had had enough of all of it- of the long, lonely nights, the cut-off conversations. He found that he wanted something different, something fierce and bright and his. Vincent eyed him, all nervous energy and pink blush. It was gratifying, almost violently so, to think that he wanted it, just as badly.
He was toeing the line. He was testing the trigger. He was-
“Good,” Ryo said. He slid his hand up the side of Vincent’s neck, until his thumb pressed right to the thin skin at the top of Vincent’s throat. He leaned in, close enough that he felt more than heard the way Vincent’s breath stuttered.
“I want it,” he said. “Whatever you’re asking for, I want it too.”
And it was hard to bite down a grin, when Vincent’s whole face lit up, open and unabashedly happy. Beneath his thumb, Ryo could feel his heartbeat quickening. He turned his face into Ryo’s touch, just barely hinting at something more.
“I’d kiss you, if we were elsewhere,” Vincent said, and Ryo felt his words as if they were physical. “I know you’d much prefer to be without prying eyes.”
His eyes were soft, drawing back on months of conversation, when he’d picked up on everything Ryo had ever hidden away. He’d slipped in somehow, worming his way through the cracks, learning and watching, and-
“You- God, Vincent,” Ryo said, heart beating in his ears.
He took a deep breath, then fisted his hand in Vincent’s lapel, fingers brushing against petals, and dragged him down to meet his lips.