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Obi really needs to learn to put his foot down a little more, just a tad. He’s gotten better at not ‘suffering for the sake of her smile’ (yes, Shirayuki really said that— with big eyes too), but maybe their wedding day was a time for a little more boundaries.
At the very least not a damn church wedding.
Why did her grandparents have to be Catholic?
“Obi,” Shirayuki says his name like a question, sweetness barely covering the worries hiding underneath.
She’s not looking at him, so all he can see is her red hair and quick hands as she puts away the dishes.
“Shirayuki,” he mimics her tone as he sneaks up behind her.
Obi wraps her in a hug from behind, effectively stopping her from putting away any more of the dishes. An annoyance he knows she’ll accept, even if it’s grudgingly.
“I’ve told you that my grandparents were Catholic, right?”
Her voice is openly nervous now, shoulders tense beneath him as she fidgets with the ring on her left hand.
“We’re working on the ‘living in sin’ thing already,” he purrs, kissing her on the neck.
He’s satisfied by the surprised giggle that escapes her, he can picture the roll of her eyes finishing it off.
“We can elope if you want to fix it sooner, I’d say we could be having sex free of sin by tomorrow night,” he tries to keep the hope out of his voice.
“Well, what if I’m thinking of the opposite,” the laugh that escapes her is all nerves again.
“As in?”
“More of a church wedding?”
He presses his lips into her neck again. It’s not exactly what he wants to do— although anything besides a trip to the courthouse sounds like a foreign concept to him.
“I know you don’t like churches so it’s okay if you don’t want to— it’s just, my grandparents always wanted me to— and so I’ve always pictured it that way… I’m scared it might feel wrong otherwise,” she’s talking over herself now, all jumbled emotions and nerves.
Obi turns her around to face him, taking a moment to look into her eyes and brush her hair out of her face -more of a chore to sort her locks than a romantic gesture- until the worry line between her brows smooths out.
“I know they would be happy for us either way if they were here,” Shirayuki reassures, probably for herself as much as him.
“But they’re not here and I—”
Obi already has her pulled against his chest before anything more can escape her.
It’s been this way since he proposed, it’s like she’s been grieving every year she’s lived without her grandparents since they’ve passed.
It had scared him at first to see her going through all of this old grief because of their engagement, but he understands now. Shirayuki’s been so happy too, but it’s clear how much she wishes her grandparents were here for it. Her father’s done his best, but he’s still pretty new to the whole ‘dad’ thing and ends up receiving more comfort from Shirayuki than he can return.
“We can do it in a church,” he reassures her, so desperate for a solution to her grief.
It’s quiet, the only sound is her slowing breaths and the AC kicking in from the back of the apartment.
“Are you sure?” Shirayuki asks, her voice so small.
It must be important for her if she’s accepting his answer so easily. No, it must be important for her to have asked in the first place.
“Yeah, of course we can.”
Obi holds her tighter, tight enough to remind her of everyone she has left here who loves her.
It’s not that he hates religious people -okay, he might love to scare a few of them on occasion, that’s just light fun- but he doesn’t do churches. Shirayuki doesn’t really either— she’s never expressed wanting to go to church, she’s never bible thumped, or even said she’s believed in God. He had no idea that he would have to prepare for this.
And it’s all happened so fast. Which on its own is okay, he’s ready to put his own ring on too (even if he might miss the occasional free drink), but he missed the window for a little exposure therapy or something.
Thump thump.
Shit. Definitely Mitsuhide.
It’s by instinct that he weaves away into the most secluded area of the church, a dark maze that leads him directly to a closet. It’s ridiculous how quick he is to hide from the closest that man has ever come to dog. The man of men’s best friends.
Obi’s the one panting like a dog as soon as the footsteps pass his little room, breathing in the solitude as soon as he can. It’s a surprisingly roomy closet, practically empty. Taking one step back he finds himself sitting on a bench.
Right, Catholics. He ran into a confession booth. Hopefully there’s no priest ready to hear all of his sins— he’d hate to miss his own wedding. It’s not like they always keep some guy waiting—
“Hello?”
All of his thoughts are stolen from him with his breath. That soft voice is not a priest.
“I- I didn’t expect anyone to actually be here,” Shirayuki whispers.
Being quiet now is probably some type of sin, right? Which would normally tempt him, but…
“Neither did I,” Obi whispers back.
“O-obi? What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he laughs a little, a breathy sound attempting to cover his nerves.
He can picture the worried little bite she’s probably doing to her lower lip right now— an image that is not doing any good to quiet the rapid fire of worries for whatever drove her to also hide in a confessional so close to their ceremony.
“I hope I didn’t interrupt a last quick meeting in the dark with another man, a priest no less,” he teases, satisfied by the surprised squeak that escapes her, “Your last night of freedom was actually last week, love.”
“That’s not funny, Obi,” she scolds him.
He can already hear a little more calm entering her voice, maybe he should add ‘inappropriate jokes to distract her from her anxiety’ into his vows.
“I needed to be alone,” she confesses, “there’s been too many people fussing over me and asking me questions and giving me advice and I just couldn’t even think.”
It almost makes him smile to know they’re sharing similar frustrations, except it’s not what he wants her to be feeling on their wedding day.
“I’m impressed you could escape this far,” Obi says as he leans his head against the wood dividing them.
“I might have asked Kiki for a little help,” she admits.
Ah, so this is built into the itinerary then. Somewhere in the chaos beyond this dark booth, Kiki and Mitsuhide are working against each other with very different goals.
If Kiki allowed this… then Shirayuki must be ready to walk down the aisle.
“You’re not… are you in your wedding dress already?”
“Everything but the veil,” she answers, nerves already creeping their way back into her voice.
He can picture the blush that must be spreading across her cheeks in the dark. Except he shouldn’t really be picturing that, should he?
He shouldn’t be wondering if her hair is let down over her shoulders or pinned up in some style to hold her veil. Or wonder what the dress she’s wearing right this very moment looks like. Whether it’s stuffed into the booth and pooling around Shirayuki or something simple that let her slip through the crowd easily.
“I’m sure you look beautiful,” he whispers.
“I feel like a doll,” she laughs.
“We could still run away,” he offers, “Just take that marriage license and hope the courthouse is so moved by your beautiful dress that they marry us right there.”
“Obi,” she scolds, “is that really what you want?”
Her hesitant question is filled with worry, he’s really not starting this whole marriage thing off right, is he?
“To be murdered by your fearsome maid of honor? No, thank you,” he answers, instantly regretting his deflective answer.
Shirayuki doesn’t give a response. There’s a tension creeping into the silence that he really doesn’t want them to share in the hour before their wedding.
“I want to be here,” he promises.
Her sigh of relief is so quiet that it could be a figment of his hopeful imagination.
“Churches are just hard for me, you know. It’s not only that foster family, it’s all of the expectations and rules,” he hopes that she can’t hear the growing tightness in his voice.
“But I want to be here,” he continues, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Obi,” she says his name so sweetly, with so much understanding and love in those short syllables.
He can picture her forehead pressed into the wood right on the other side of his own. She better watch that makeup if she wants to survive any longer than him.
“Thank you for doing this when it’s so hard for you,” the tenderness in her voice makes his heart ache, “The truth is, it’s been hard for me too.”
He’s quiet, waiting for her to peel back more layers until the wooden panel between them is nothing.
“I haven’t been to church in so long, I’m not really sure what I was thinking. It feels so different now,” her voice is tiny, like they’re back in the kitchen when she first asked for this with tears in her eyes.
“I feel like a little girl again who should be clinging to my Grandma’s skirt, but instead I’m going to be holding onto my fathers arm in front of everyone we know and then some,” Shirayuki explains, panic rising in her whispers.
“I’m just counting down to holding your hand,” he tells her honestly.
“Me too,” she sighs, “I wish I could hold your hand now.”
“See, that would be dangerous if you want to walk down that aisle, Shirayuki,” he warns, “Because the next time you hold my hand I’m not letting go.”
He had hoped to remain playful, but the truth of his words rang with a promise.
“That’s what I’m hoping for,” she says, and finally he can hear a smile in her voice.
Obi wishes he could peel apart this confessional so that he could hold her in his arms.
“I promise to always hold your hand,” Obi whispers, “especially when I need to drag you away from your work and remind you what food is.”
“Obi—”
“I promise that I’ll always be your home,” Obi continues, “To hold your heart and protect your happiness with everything that I have. To be with you.”
He speaks so quietly that the wooden panel covering the grate might catch his words and hold them in place of his heart.
But it doesn’t catch his words. Instead, he can almost feel them trail through the grate and reach Shirayuki.
It’s a small and stereotypical sentiment, but it wrenches everything out of him that’s been building up for today. All of the worry, all of the anticipation, all of the happiness— everything amounts to this. It all amounts to the simple promise of being together.
“Obi.”
He can hear a shaky breath even from the other side of the wall.
“I don’t have my vows with me, I promise I wrote them all down, but now—”
“Shirayuki, baby, I know.”
Obi can picture them so clearly. Not the words, but the paper.
She’s probably written a meticulous list of vows. Heartfelt and thoughtful. Writing and rewriting until the paper is worn and loved.
They’re surely as beautiful and as well taken care of as everything else that Shirayuki touches.
“It’s just a promise I wanted to make,” he reassures.
Obi doesn’t say that it’s the same promise he made long before he ever dreamed that Shirayuki could be his.
“Obi,” she chokes out.
He can tell that she’s fighting tears over such simple words.
Shit. He definitely shouldn’t be making his fiancée cry before their wedding ceremony. He’s pretty sure it made the actual list that Kiki made of things he should absolutely not do today.
“Don’t get sentimental yet, my real vows have plenty of conditions,” Obi chides playfully, “For starters, I’m expecting you to put me in a real ball and chain—”
“Obi!”
Shirayuki’s giggling now. Everything will be okay.
Like clockwork, a sharp knock raps against his door.
“See you out there, Miss,” Obi whispers.
All of the pews and the faces in them are a blur to Obi.
Some people smile at him, one of his groomsmen claps him on the back when they begin to line up behind him. He doesn’t even know who.
He’s not normally the type to get nervous and space out in a large crowd. But that none of them matter right now.
They’ll matter later; at the reception when the only goal is to party and celebrate.
But right now, everyone only registers as Not Shirayuki.
Until she finally appears.
She’s a swath of white in her dress and veil, but it’s his Shirayuki without a doubt.
As she first appears at the end of the aisle, she looks a little like a deer in headlights. There’s a pause as she looks around the pews and gives a small smile.
She has the smallest stumble in her long dress, but Mukaze holds her steady.
Then he can tell that she sees him too.
The rest of the room is only a blur around Shirayuki. The music is a distant buzz compared to the pounding of his heart in his ears.
She’s so beautiful.
Obi doesn’t know much about dresses, but he knows that whatever she’s wearing is perfect on her.
There’s the same light that he fell in love with in her eyes as she makes her way down the aisle step by step.
Shirayuki is even more beautiful the closer she gets. A mix of excitement and determination is practically radiating from her, like when she’s working towards a new goal.
This goal is him. It’s them. It’s the rest of their lives.
Shit, he’s crying.
She’s almost here and he can’t remember a single instruction for what he’s supposed to do.
He feels frozen when Shirayuki nears the alter. It’s been years since he’s really stumbled, but that’s what he does to meet them at the end of the aisle. He’s pretty sure he’s supposed to do that.
It takes great effort to take his eyes from Shirayuki when Mukaze takes his hand.
Obi had expected a firm handshake, for the serious side of Shirayuki’s father to make an appearance, but instead he’s pulled into a hug. A reminder of the family he’s becoming a part of.
When Mukaze releases him, it’s only Shirayuki left in the room once again.
He’s pretty sure he’s meant to escort her on his arm for the last few steps to the altar, but he takes her hand in his instead.
Shirayuki’s smile lets him know that it’s okay.
Her hand is like a tether to this world in a moment that lasts forever.
Walking those last steps together, he knows that he’s never letting go.