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Jordan sat, restless, in the seat that was nearest the altar. He couldn’t believe he’d accepted this invitation. He shouldn’t have. He couldn’t be the best man at Maxwell’s wedding, not when he should be the one marrying him. Maxwell thought he was over them- He had been, too, for the most part. It had been years since they’d broken up, a little over a decade now, he’d been really proud of the other man when he started dating Connor, but the moment they got engaged, it was over for him.
He couldn’t bear to sit here in silence as the man he loved was bound to someone else. When they pulled each other close for the kiss that marked the beginning of their marriage, he couldn’t help but wish that Maxwell’s fingers were tangling in his hair, not Connor’s. It should be him there, pulling the bassist in close by the waist and pressing their lips together. It should be him putting the ring on his finger, not Connor. It should be him, not Connor.
As much as Jordan loved him, he didn’t see how Maxwell could possibly believe that Connor was better than he was. He knew damn well that Max preferred dating men that were a similar height to him, not towering over everyone like his brand new husband. He knew damn fucking well that Maxwell preferred the louder, more outspoken men, not this gentle, quieter man who’d apparently drawn him in enough to marry him.
For weeks after that day, he didn’t dare speak to either man. He sat in his apartment and did fuck else, occasionally going out with some of their friends. He was mostly fine to live like this, if it meant never having to be taunted by the visage of the man who had once sworn to love him forever. Miles knew, of course. Jordan had let it slip one day, and thankfully, the drummer had never brought it up again, not to anyone.
And then Miles got him to come out for lunch. He thought it would just be them, but when he got there-
They were there. Already seated, pressed beside each other, talking and laughing together. He gave Miles a glare that should have disintegrated him on the spot, but nothing goes his way, now does it? He only got a mouthed “figure it out” in response, before being left standing in the parking lot. He couldn’t just leave, not now that Maxwell was already waving him over to their table.
Jordan reluctantly walked over, sitting down beside Miles, opposite Connor. “Good to see you again, man. It’s been a while, huh?” The taller man asked, dropping his arm around Maxwell’s shoulders. He had a soft smile on his lips, but his husband’s looked… forced. He was looking directly at Jordan, his deep brown gaze reading deep into his very soul. “I- Yeah. How’s, uh, how’ve you two been?” He asked, biting the inside of his cheek.
Half an hour passed, and the bassist never once looked away from him. Eventually, when Connor left to go order for them and the three of them were left in silence, he couldn’t take it anymore. “I’ll be right back.” Jordan mumbled, standing up from the booth and heading for the restaurant’s bathroom.
He pushed past the door, not bothering to worry about anyone finding him here and just leaning against the wall in front of the sinks, letting his back slide down the tile. He rubbed his palms over his face, taking a long, deep breath in a futile attempt to calm his racing thoughts. He wanted nothing more than to not be here. Fuck Miles and his shitty attempts at getting him to get over Maxwell. He was so fucking close to going out there and breaking that fucking drummer’s nose, but-
“Jordan?” Maxwell’s voice cut through his clouded mind, concerned and stern all at once. “You good, man?” He asked, crouching beside him. “No, I’m not fucking ‘good!’” Jordan snapped, flinching at the harshness of his own tone. He could see the other man’s brows furrow, could feel him place a hand on his back, and he wanted nothing more than to flee. “Tell me about it. What’s up?”
Jordan thought about lying. Thought about saying that he was just going through a rough time with his own image or some shit and leaving it at that, but Maxwell knew him too well. He would see right through it, he would call bullshit the moment the words left his lips and he knew it. He had no other choice than to tell the truth, did he?
“I still love you.” He said quickly, regretting it the moment he did it.
“Jordan, you- I’m married. How long have you been?.. You know I can’t, even if I wanted to.” Maxwell responded, forcing his voice to a near-whisper.
Even if I wanted to.
He never spoke to either of them again, after that. Not until years later, when he’d finally come to terms with it- And by then, he’d already lost everything that mattered. By then, neither of them really cared to help him fix what he’d broken.
And it was all because of his inability to lie to Maxwell.
That was the final straw, the final push before he snapped.
Connor drew his last breath that day.
Maxwell never figured out it was Jordan who murdered his husband, not until he was withered with age.
As for Jordan- Well, he had his old love back.