Chapter Text
"You're ready, man?"
I startle at the sound of my bedroom door creaking, Connie's cheerful face appearing at the threshold. He's wearing a rather neat grey tuxedo, white button-up with a ridiculous Darth Vader bowtie around the neck. I can't help but snort at the view. Only one man could wear such a grotesque thing and still rock the tuxedo look.
He replies to my raised eyebrows with a shrug, casually joining me in the middle of the room.
A small sigh leaves my lips as I turn back to face the full-body mirror once again. I'm still debating about whether the bile rising up my throat is due to anxiety rather than excitement. Nobody tells you that choosing a silk or cashmere navy blue necktie on your wedding day feels as though you're about to press the button that could save the world from an incoming asteroid.
How can I even pick one? It's just two different fabric materials, blue's still blue! I whine internally, praying to whatever high divinity to help me choose already.
Connie must have heard my silent pleas because he's suddenly pulling at the material of the silk necktie between my hands and nimbly starts to fix it around my neck.
"Where would you be without me?" the little brat dramatically sighs. I feign thinking hard, eyes cast at the ceiling pensively and honestly tell him:
"Probably hitting the road in a Corvet in Miami, not stuck working next to a loud-mouthed prick inking some poor dude's back in a tattoo shop" I snicker as Connie shoves me hard on the shoulder.
"Your smart ass would have had quite the pity life if it wasn't for me. Admit it, you love inking as much as I do."
I grin widely at this, eyes quickly glancing at the glimpse of my ink-covered wrist poking out of my sleeve. Yeah, I do.
I had finished one of my biggest pieces only this morning: a quote by T.S Eliot with an imploding galaxy on the background covering most of the customer's shoulder blades.
The girl had positively glowed when I had showed her the result and I remembered why I was doing this in the first place.
No office job security could ever make me feel as content as I do after a good session of screeching machines and ink-splattered skin coming to life under my fingertips.
I've always loved drawing, even as a kid. Doodles on notebooks during Math classes had turned into sleepless nights spent furiously scribbling under the dim light of my desk lamp.
Then four years ago I had met Connie at a bar on a night out with Sasha and here we are. A couple of beers and a portfolio passed between hands later, Connie had me hired as his shop's apprentice.
He offered me my first machine on my birthday a year later.
Damn, how time flies.
"There you go" the other says after a moment, straightening my shirt collar with a final pat. I nod my thanks and try to hide my shaky hands by stuffing them in my pockets.
"How do I look?" I ask him nervously, puffing my chest in an attempt to steady my breathing pace. The tie feels suddenly too tight around my throat under the other's scrutinizing gaze.
Connie makes a face and laughs a little when my face falls after a beat of silence.
"Definitely not my type bro, but you don't look too bad" he sniggers.
"Thanks for that" I mutter in a breath. I run a trembling hand through my light brown mop of hair, remembering too late I had applied wax earlier and probably ruined the effect. I let my hand fall limp against my side and sigh quietly.
It was stupid to get worked up about something as mundane as passing my house door and driving towards the estate where my wedding was taking place.
Not a big deal in itself, right? You're probably asking yourself why I am being such a drama queen.
But well, I never thought I'd have to stand in front of a friend-self-ordained-wedding-officiant and thirty other people as I'd say yes to the love of my life before. It would set anyone on edge, especially a guy like me.
I was always the kind of guy who spent the majority of his life positive he'd never end up in a serious relationship, let alone a relationship at all. Romance just wasn't my thing I guess. I preferred dedicating my time to my drawing and drumming skills.
Being a tattoo apprentice while playing in a band takes a lot of time. I wasn't ready to give up on that for the sake of 'settling down' with someone.
Then I had met Marco at a frat party in uni and my lifetime bachelor agenda was forever compromised. See Mom, your little boy's not always so damn stubborn. It only takes a freckled miracle to turn his world upside down and spin the laws of the universe around.
And Mom, God knows I wouldn't have it any other way.
I smile to myself when I realise that at this exact moment, in another house, Marco is also getting ready and is probably as nervous as I am. Sharp amber eyes flick their gaze back to me as I turn to face the mirror once more, almost challenging in the early afternoon light and I can feel my hands stop shaking.
"Sasha is waiting for us downstairs" Connie announces, "She was already complaining about being starved to death, saying she still had to suffer the whole ceremony before the buffet was open so I let her assault your pantry shelf in the meantime".
I groan in exasperation at the statement but silently bless the guy. Connie had always been the considerate one. After being with Sasha for over three years, he had learnt the hard way and at what cost my sister's heart came to. Most of the time, two muffins and a pound of pudding would suffice.
I bless Connie's soul for handling the risky situation by himself.
I wouldn't want to endure my sister's constant complains the whole trip to the ceremony. One only has so much patience with dealing Sasha for twenty seven years. My only concern today is to walk towards the aisle without tripping over my shoes and making a fool of myself. The rest will have to wait.
Connie's strong grip on my shoulder snaps me out of my internal monologue.
"Feeling nervous?" he asks softly. For him to be so gentle with me, I must look like I'm about to pass out. Fantastic. I scratch at my freshly shaved jaw and release the breath I didn't realise I was holding.
"A bit. I've never been good with crowds" I mumble with a frown.
"Thirty four people mainly composed of friends and family is hardly a crowd, Jean" the other replies with a light chuckle, "but I understand". He pauses for a second. "Marco will be there, though" he adds with a squeeze on my shoulder.
I want to retort that yes, Marco will obviously be there as he is the groom but I quickly repress it. Connie had rescheduled my appointment in the morning to allow me to blow off steam before the ceremony.
The last few days had been crazy busy between the late planning and the runs to the tailor shop to do some last-minute changes and pick up the suits. He knew me too well now to recognize when I desperately needed an escape from the buzz. I loved him for that, although I'd never admit it aloud.
"Yeah, I know" I whisper more to myself than anything, scraping at my undercut. Marco would be there. Marco will be there, I repeat to myself a second time as a wave of adrenaline swirls and settles in my chest. Everything will be fine.
I roll my shoulders feeling suddenly galvanized because it's him waiting for me, I'm going to marry this man, facing the mirror one last time for a last minute check.
Hair, OK. Suit, OK. Tie, OK. Vows, OK. I mentally check as I pat my breast pocket.
"Rings?" I ask at Connie's expectant face staring back at me from his reflection in the mirror. He holds up a small velvet box from his jacket pocket and winks. I grin.
"Alright, let's do this"
**
As I land into the lounge room with Connie on my heels, my gaze trails towards the corner of the kitchen island where Sasha is sitting, busy annihilating an entire cookie in one go.
She locks gaze with me the second she spots me, crumbs stumbling off her chin. She chokes on her mouthful as I walk towards her, eyes widening behind her bangs and looking like an astonished owl. I raise an eyebrow at her then proceed to turn on myself.
"What do you think?" I ask her, amusement dripping in my voice as she coughs a few times to regain some composure.
Her brown eyes scan me once more before she speaks in an unusual soft voice, barely above a whisper: "You look beautiful, baby brother" she tells me with a big toothy grin.
"You're going to be a handsome groom" she adds with a solemn nod and I cross the distance around the island in a few quick paces to dive in for a short hug.
"Thank you, Sash" I whisper in her hair, placing a kiss on her temple and releasing my grip. I take a step back and really take in her outfit for the first time since I've walked in.
Her red dyed hair usually worn in a loose ponytail is pinned together in a half-up braid at the back of her head, curls falling freely on her shoulders. Her strapless light grey dress outlines perfectly the curves of her narrow waist, the floaty material falling elegantly just above the ankles. Her silver high-heeled feet make her look a bit taller than she actually is.
Her rosy cheeks and bright eyes could almost have fooled me. Being twenty eight year-old had never looked so young on someone.
I reach for her hand and make her spin slowly, her bubbly laughter filling the air. I swallow back the lump forming in my throat as I make her spin one last time, hand squeezing her thin knuckles.
"You look gorgeous too, sis" She shrugs nonchalantly with a poorly hidden smirk on her lips and pats my cheek.
"Family trait, I suppose" she retorts and we both laugh.
"Come on Big Boy, the groom is waiting for you!" she exclaims as she wipes the last crumbs off her chin and links her elbow with mine, dragging me outside the house.
I hear Connie chuckle behind me and mutter something that sounds like 'crazy siblings' under his breath before he heads out towards the car as well. Well, I can't say he's wrong. But what kind of life would it be without a little bit of madness, huh?
**
"Sasha, tell me this isn't what I think it is"
I deadpan as the sound of the radio booms in the car speakers and Demi Lovato's states loudly that there is nothing wrong with being confident. I glare incredulously at Sasha from the backseat.
The culprit turns around in her seat to look at me over her shoulder, goofy smile never faltering.
"Come on, I know you love this song. Don't lie to me, I've caught you singing in the shower the other day. Let your inner Demi out, it's okay little bud"
She barks a laugh from the driver seat, fingers drumming along the beat on the steering wheel. I feel my cheeks grow hot under Connie's mocking gaze and I wish I could just ditch them on the side of the road, car moving and all. Pity they were my assigned drivers for the day.
"Remind me to never let you crash at my place ever again. Also I'm 27, I'm an adult not your 'little bud'" I reply grumpily, sinking further into my seat.
"No need to worry about that, I don't want to walk on you and Marco celebrating your honeymoon like the two horny lovebirds you are, thank you very much. Also, don't bother remind me you're a grown-up now, you'll always be my baby brother" she sing-songs and I can feel my blush deepening furiously.
An embarrassed groan unintentionally escapes my lips which only makes the two children in the front howl with laughter like a couple of hyenas from The Lion King.
"Who's in charge of the music, by the way?" Connie asks with a wriggle of his eyebrows, leaning back towards me and still chuckling stupidly. I scowl hard at him for a moment, debating whether or not I should answer or let him choke on his own damn saliva.
Before I can make up my mind, a little voice at the back of my head sounding an awful lot like Marco's reminds me to behave because you're supposed to be kind on your wedding day, Jean!
Too bad he's my best man, I think sadly, Marco would kill me if he'd show up with a black eye. I opt for a simple shrug in lieu of anything too radical.
"Marco said he'd choose the songs since I chose the place, I don't know what songs he has picked"
I look outside the window and tune out Connie's smart reply (something like an honour being 'restored' and 'poor music taste' vaguely reach me) but I only wave a middle finger in his general direction, eyes following the line of trees along the driveway as we leave the suburb.
Although they irritate me seventy percent of the time, I have to admit I'm glad I have these two goons by my side. My nervousness from earlier had almost entirely faded, only a slight tremor running through my veins due to impatience rather than anything else left.
My unfocused gaze trailing over the landscapes begin to shift into a tall, slim form and I wonder how Marco is going to look like in his wedding suit. I wonder if the laughter lines by his eyes will appear when I'll say 'I do' and I wonder if my hand is going to shake from the thrill when he'll slide the ring around my finger.
There's one thing I don't bother wonder though and it's the only thing that makes the quiver shooting through my veins turn a different kind of restless.
I love him. I love this beautiful, kind, genius of a man and I'd go through all the crowded ceremonies, all the stress and craziness of every wedding planning of this world for one single smile of his. And it's the best kind of scary.
After twenty minutes, I recognize the long stretch of oak trees raising from each side of the road, leading straight to the estate's gates as Sasha slows the car down and parks in front of the building. The nervousness from earlier makes my head dizzy as it runs back to its nest in my stomach.
I can see the suits and cocktail dresses step out of cars from behind the tinted windows and I hear the hushed voices laughing and conversing happily coming from the backyard.
I screw my eyes shut for a second to stamp out the wave of anxiety and exhale slowly through my nose. It's time. Everybody is waiting for you. He's waiting for you, I think and the anxious hum in my bloodstream wears off to a distant echo. I feel Sasha's gentle hand stroke my knee as I blink my eyes open.
"Ready?" she asks in a low voice, not even reaching to unbuckle her belt.
Connie isn't moving either, as waiting for a confirmation that I won't start hyperventilating and puke my guts all over his floor. Like I said, always the considerate one. I nod stiffly and start reaching for my belt.
Sasha's grip on my bicep stops me though. I look at her in surprise but she won't let go. Her expression is still soft if only more determined, like she is going to coach a child on his first football match.
"It will be fine, Jean" she assures me, thin brows stubbornly knitted together. Connie nods fervently next to her. I chuckle at her pep talk and nod in return.
"I know" I tell her and I'm proud to note my tone is bulletproof. I know. With a final pat on my knee, Sasha frees herself from her belt and so do I. Connie opens my door and the summer breeze mixing with the scent of lavender reach my nostrils.
It smells like him, I smile as I plant a foot on the ground and step outside, impatience making my hands twitch and my heart beat strong against my ribcage.