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5.
"I was manipulated into marriage, Uccio. I know it." Vale scowled at his morning coffee in a way that highlighted the frown lines on his forehead.
Uccio would usually agree - had, in fact, said something along those lines several times over the past year. But five hours before the wedding ceremony seemed a little too close for Vale to come upon a paradigm shift.
"We had your bachelor party two weeks ago, and you said he was the love of your life," Uccio reminded him. They both cringed. Such a saccharine sentiment was beneath Vale, especially directed at that horrible little man. Uccio would never understand.
"Does that sound like something I would say?" Vale asked calmly. He dropped a spoon of sugar into his coffee - god only knew he needed the extra boost. Then he tasted it, and decided he did not. He did not need strength, or sweetness, or marriage. He absolutely did not need marriage.
Uccio sighed. "I did ask if it was necessary," he said.
He had, and Vale did not require the reminder that Uccio had a tendency to be more correct about Marc than himself. Vale's fiancé had the unfortunate habit of making Vale do stupid, uncharacteristic things.
Such as propose. And argue strongly for one venue instead of another. And bring the ceremony forward from the end of the championship season to summer break, because Vale did not like the cold.
"I could be with him without marriage," Vale said. He considered. "It's still a possibility."
Uccio threw a wad of used tissue at him. "Fuck off Vale, it's too late for that," he said unreasonably.
"I haven't completely decided yet," Vale said. He poured the sweetened coffee down the sink and stood to make a new one, un-sugary and normal.
4.
Vale decided to make his bed, for want of something interesting to do while the seconds ticked away slowly to his impending fate. Well, it was their bed if he wanted to be precise, though it would not be the matrimonial home unless he dragged his feet to church later that day. He had a few more hours of calling the bed his own.
Since he mentally designated Marc to be the closest equivalent to a bride in this relationship, custom dictated that Marc spent his last night of unmarried life with his family. Vale didn't know which one of the parents he ended up staying with, but all the Spanish guests had rented some nice beach villas in the same vicinity so it didn't quite matter. The villas were cookie-cutter identical. Vale saw when he went over to give Marc flowers.
He straightened out the pillows, looked around at Marc's things neatly littered around the room, and wondered if marriage had been inevitable. He didn't like inevitabilities.
3.
Maybe the entire of Vale's life had been a mistake, since people kept throwing things at him on his own wedding day. He folded his arms and turned his head away from his mother.
"You're not wearing jeans to your own wedding Vale," Stefania nagged, as though Vale wasn't well over forty years of age.
Vale picked his jeans up from the floor. The cuff of it had whacked him in the face, though he ducked from the impact. He would quite like to wear jeans, it would give people something to talk about, and Marc would sulk. He was nice when he sulked, a little bit less egotistical and more manageable.
It was a little bit painful to imagine him sulking on his own wedding day, however. Vale supposed he should focus on making his life hard on any other day.
"Graziano will show up in jeans," he said.
Stefania gave him a withering look. He tended to know better than to mention one parent to the other.
"And that nice boy will come in a nice suit and make up on his face," she said traitorously. Uccio had been right. Marc cheated his way into Vale's heart, then his mother's, then multiple Italian teams, and even that Italian factory that hated Vale's guts. Some people had no sense of patriotism.
Vale and Marc bought matching silk ties for the occasion. "We compromise - don't make me wear this. Weddings should be about comfort," Vale complained, holding the offending item up by the skinny end.
Stefania tied it around his neck herself.
2.
Luca rolled his eyes so hard that he temporarily lost sight of the road. "I should have made you drive yourself to church," he said, with a long-suffering sigh.
He was right. Vale would not have made it on time, with how cold his feet were.
"We will be sinners in the eyes of god," Vale repeated, resting his forehead on the glass of the car window while watching the summer morning pass him by. A gay Catholic marriage could easily be expected to fail. At least he didn't have make up on to smudge, unlike his beloved, vain little fiancé.
"You'll be happier when you're married," Marta said from the backseat. Advice from the mouths of babes - Vale could not be less convinced.
Stefania jammed her foot to the back of Vale's seat. "He's been like this all day," she shared.
1.
Brides and grooms were not supposed to meet before the wedding ceremony, but the mechanics were a little bit different when there were two grooms. They still tried to stay away from each other for luck, but both arrived early to welcome the guests. Had Marc truly been a cooperative bride, he would have instead shown up fashionably late.
Vale was aware of Marc laughing his head off with his brother while guests arrived at the church. What could be so funny about signing the rest of your life away to a person, Vale did not know. He felt solemn to his soul.
Uccio offered Vale an apéritif. He was in a suit as well because Vale saddled him with the unfortunate role of groomsman, and he looked terrible in it. They were not made for a dapper dress code. Or perhaps it was the distinctly unhappy expression on his face.
"Just drink, you'll be happier," Uccio said.
"Shouldn't I already be happy?" Vale questioned. He was genuinely becoming concerned that this whole marriage business had been a mistake. All of those hours put into selecting the perfect flower arrangement seemed like a stupid use of time, in retrospect. They could have just eloped and spent more time planning an optimal honeymoon, no rings or vows or ceremonies necessary.
He caught Marc's eye and received a beautiful smile for his trouble. Vale smiled back.
"I'm going to talk to him," he said, returning the drink to Uccio's hand. If meeting before the ceremony was going to doom their marriage, it wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to them.
0.
"I couldn't sleep," Marc whispered. "It was worse than my first championship."
"Oh, really?" Vale asked, relieved. So it wasn't just him.
They were supposed to approach the aisle from opposite ends, but Marc clutched Vale's fingertips. Vale had grown repulsively soft with age - he thought it was nice.
Marc ducked his head. "I guess we'll get used to it. Are your socks yellow?"
"Yes," Vale said. He pulled up one side of his trousers to let his fiancé (for another two minutes or so) have a better look.
"Nice, I'm wearing my red underwear from the races," Marc said, wagging his stupid eyebrows. He was ridiculous. Vale grabbed his ass to scold him or inspire him. They could still sneak away to forsake the vows and perform sacrilegious acts.
Marc's resounding cackle could be heard down the pews.