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The wedding was nice. Matt’s cousin looked merengue-esque in her big white dress, and the train she had her bridesmaids holding was so theatrically large, Mello almost gasped at the drama of it all. They all stood when the bridal chorus played, and when asked, nobody objected. The ringbearer passed the rings over on a satin pillow, and the bride and groom both said I do at the right time. Routine.
Mello quite enjoyed weddings. It was nice to be in a church for a good reason. As long as he avoided Christ’s watchful eye, he could almost avoid the outstretched arms of his religious trauma completely. Happy prayers, shimmery stained glass, smiling and rejoiceful singing, all the parts of religion that made his faithful heart swell.
Yeah, Mello enjoyed the service part of a wedding… but the best part was always the reception, and all the alcohol that came with it.
… but first, they’d have to make it through dinner.
“Why do they always serve onion soup at weddings?” Matt grimaced into his bowl, piercing a soggy ring of onion with his fork, and lifting it into the air to observe. It hung limply, impaled on the fork’s prong, and then slid down towards the handle. “Minging.”
“Oh just eat it, don’t be such a baby.” Mello replied, politely sipping at his own soup.
“I can’t, I actually can’t,” Matt groaned, and then turned his greedy eyes upon Mello’s side-plate. “Ooh, let me eat your bread!”
“No!”
“Come on!”
“No- hey, hands off! You’re making a scene!”
“It was gonna be the only thing I ate tonight.” Matt said sorrowfully, dropping Mello’s slightly mangled slice of bread back on his plate, and then collapsing back in his chair. “I’m going to starve.”
“This is literally just the starter, Matt. There’s two courses to go, and you’ve already had two dinners worth of calories in wine alone, you aren’t going to starve.”
“Oh my god,” Matt pulled his wine glass protectively against his chest. “You aren’t allowed to point out how much I’ve been drinking. That’s fucked up! It’s my cousin’s wedding!”
“Is there some unwritten rule about being able to drink at your cousin’s wedding that I don’t know about?”
“Well, I don’t have any siblings and I’m never gonna get married, so this is my only chance!”
He looked at Mello reproachfully as he said this, as if it was somehow Mello’s fault that it was against the law for same-sex couples to get married- or maybe it was Mello’s fault for being born a boy at all.
Mello wouldn’t have blamed Matt for thinking that. It actually would’ve made things a lot simpler for both of them had he just been a girl- but alas, they would just have to deal with the ramifications of their homosexuality together.
“You have five cousins, that’s plenty more opportunities-” Mello paused, and then shook his tipsy head. “Wait, why am I trying to stop you? I want to get fucked up too!”
Matt laughed and cheersed Mello’s glass with far too much gusto, and red wine sloshed all over their fingers.
“Here’s to getting fucked up!”
_____
They were approximately fifteen bites into the main course before they had their first homophobic encounter.
It wasn’t deliberately malicious, just misinformed, and really awkward.
Matt’s Aunt, the mother of the bride, pulled a chair up between them and gestured for a waiter to top her drink up the second her ass made contact with the seat.
“Hello, Matt, darling. Oh and you,” She leaned towards Mello, and he had a sudden sensation of being prey, trapped right in a predator’s cave, a feeling not aided by the way her red lipstick had smudged onto her sharp canines. “It’s so good of you to come, what was it-?”
“Mello,” Matt hissed in reminder.
“Oh yes, of course, Mello. Well, it’s so good to finally meet you, I’m Carol.”
“Thank you, it’s nice to meet you too.” Mello replied politely, shaking her manicured hand.
He had already told himself he was going to be such a good boyfriend tonight. It was the first time he’d be meeting most of Matt’s family, and he was determined to make a good first impression. He would not make a scene, and he would not embarrass his boyfriend.
How hard could it be?
“I mean, it’s been the talk of the alter- gays! A real gay couple at Mandy’s wedding! Who would’ve thought!”
Oh. That hard.
“You know, I went to Kirsty’s wedding- Matt, you remember Kirsty? She was your babysitter?”
Matt shrugged, and Carol gasped affrontedly.
“Oh you do know! You used to make her get her little video camera out and film you doing your funny talent shows?”
“Oh my god,” Matt groaned, but Carol, oblivious to his discomfort, cackled and looked pointedly in Mello’s direction. “I guess we should’ve known then, right?”
“Uh, maybe,” Mello said awkwardly.
“Anyway, I was at her wedding last week- no gays! But they had a rabbi! Her husband is Jewish!” She pointed between them both with her wine glass, as though delivering a piece of highly important information, and both boys nodded uncomfortably.
“Jewish.. In our little neighbourhood! Whatever next!… You know,” she said, turning to Mello. “I knew you were gay the second I saw you.”
“What!?” He snapped, and he heard Matt let out another pained moan from beside him.
“It’s my gaydar, it’s strong. There’s a guy at my work- sweet guy, really sweet guy… total homo!”
“Auntie Carol-” Matt started, but she persisted.
“What!? I’m good at noticing these things. I’ve got the sense. Anyway, Mello, I saw it in you, I really did. When you got out of the car I said to Mandy- that’s him, that must be Matt’s little boyfriend!”
“That’s funny,” Mello said dryly, “Because when I first saw you, I thought you were a total lesbian.”
“Mello!” Matt gasped.
“I guess my gaydar’s a little off.” Mello shrugged. “Or maybe it was the haircut.”
Carol laughed, though it sounded a little too high-pitched, and self-consciously ran her hand through her choppy side fringe.
“Oh, right, very funny.”
“It wasn’t meant to be a joke.”
“Well, it’s not a very nice thing to say to somebody.” She said huffily, fixing Mello with something almost akin to a glare.
That sent Mello bristling. He wanted to tear Carol’s wineglass from her hand and throw it at her. He wanted to call her a homophobic bitch, or pour Matt’s half-eaten bowl of cold onion soup down her dress, or stand up and break into a passionate rant about gay rights, and the poisonous ignorance that swam through the veins of half of these ‘allies’.
It only took one glance at Matt’s pale, horrified face for him to calm down.
Poor Matt- as hard as this was for Mello, at least he didn’t have to be related to this woman.
No, back to model boyfriend mode. He was going to fix this.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. It wasn’t meant to be an insult; I like lesbians.”
Carol looked at him with a strange expression, sniffled, and then pulled her handbag close to herself.
“Well, that’s quite alright. Matt told me you’re foreign, so it’s to be expected. I’m going back to the bride’s table now- I’m doing a speech. It was lovely to see you, Matt, dear, and Mello, nice to meet you.”
She stood up and began to shuffle away, but then stopped suddenly and turned back to them.
“Oh, and please don’t do anything around Grandma. She’s only just recovered from her stroke; I don’t think her heart could handle another nasty surprise.”
“Yep. Try not to kill Grandma, got it.” Matt muttered as she retreated, and then turned to Mello, a look of pure exhaustion washing over his face. “You want to go for a smoke?”
Mello was already pushing his chair back, “I thought you’d never ask.”
_____
“I can’t believe you brought bud to a wedding,” Mello said, head already buzzing with the THC. “I didn’t smell it at all. Did you bring it into the Church?”
“Nope!” Matt grinned. “Bought it from one of my nephews. Perks of being the cool uncle.”
“How much did it cost you?”
“Two quid and pints for the kids table!”
Mello laughed openly at that. He’d passed the kids table before on his way to the bathroom. It was a hodgepodge of ages; on one end there were tiny toddlers digging into thick slices of wedding cake, sporting frosting goatees and crumb coated noses. On the other there were gangly teenagers, mostly hunched over their phones, though some were making an admirable effort to get tipsy off of one bottle of dark fruits.
“Worth it.” He said, and Matt beamed.
It did feel worth it. If that was what they had to do to get out of that stifling event room and into the quiet of the grounds, then he’d happily buy alcohol for a table of children.
The grounds were picturesque. It was dusk, just dark enough for the world to be filtered through a more forgiving lens, but light enough that they weren’t at risk of bumping into a tree, or an inconveniently placed statue.
It was a warm night too, so they had both shucked their blazer jackets onto a bench, and were pleased to find the grass was dry when they kicked off their pinchy dress shoes.
“So… your family,”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Matt said quickly,
“Okay-“
“Fuck, I’m sorry! That was so shitty! I didn’t think she’d talk to you like that- well I mean, I kinda did but I hoped she wouldn’t!”
Mello shook his head and raised his arms in a sort of mock surrender. “Hey, no, it’s fine. If we were in Russia, they’d have beat us before we even got through the door. That was nothing.”
“Yeah, I guess..” Matt said, but he didn’t sound any happier.
“Matt.” Mello took Matt’s hand and laced their fingers together, squeezing gently. “It’s fine. Still a good wedding.”
“Yeah…and we haven’t even got to the DJ set yet.”
“See? A lot to look forward to, and to get drunker for!”
The speed at which Matt ran back in to steal two bottles of sparkly wine and two accompanying glasses was evidence as to how much he agreed.
They sneaked off to the very end of the grounds where they found an almost-crumbling farmer’s wall, which they climbed onto, and nestled the wine bottles between uneven stones. The joint was long gone, but its effects lingered on, and they were giggly as they gossiped about the groomsmen and the weird, mini matching hats the bridal party had clipped into their fringes.
“Would you ever wanna get married?” Matt asked, interrupting Mello’s rant about how improper it was for the mother of the bride to be wearing cream.
Surprised by the question, Mello laughed, and it tasted like white wine. “To who?”
“Well, me, obviously!”
“How? No Church is gonna marry two guys. Two fags.”
“Hey, come on,” Matt frowned. His wine glass was empty and dangling sadly from between his loosely curled fingers. “Don’t say that word.”
“What? Really? It upsets you?”
“Well, no, but kind of a bit in context.”
“Wait,” Mello pushed himself along the wall a little ways and straightened his back, composing himself before he delved into whatever the fuck that meant. “Do you want to get married?”
Matt sighed. He had reached the end of a cigarette Mello hadn’t noticed he was smoking, and was rolling the roach around between his fingers, leaving ashy streaks along his knuckles. “I don’t know… Maybe? I guess it would be nice to have the option, don’t you think?”
Mello shrugged uncomfortably. He still had his own reservations about same-sex marriage that stemmed from deep-rooted Catholic guilt, but he knew that was definitely not what Matt needed to hear.
“There are civil partnerships though.”
“That’s not the same and you know it.” Matt frowned, “I don’t know… I guess I’d never wanna do the whole walking down the aisle thing, and all those long-ass vows.”
“Which one of us would walk down the aisle anyway?”
“You, obviously?”
“What the fuck? Why would I be the girl?”
Matt spluttered and gestured wildly at Mello, “Just look at you!”
“What is it with the Jeevases and insulting my appearance tonight?”
“It’s not an insult! You’re still fucking hot but you’re definitely the girl.”
“My dick is bigger.”
“No it’s not-“
“The ruler doesn’t lie, Matt.”
“It was cold!”
“Sure.”
Matt sulkily poured himself a new glass, and then upon seeing how much Mello’s had dwindled, he filled his up too.
“You never answered my question, by the way. Do you want to get married?”
“Its not worth thinking about. I wouldn’t want to marry a girl, and I can’t marry you.. Stupid to think about.”
“Yeah but what if you could? Like, if they made it legal?”
Mello snorted. “Not happening.”
“It could! It’s legal in the Netherlands! And in Canada, and Spain, and Belgium, and-“
“Matt, those are nice countries. This one isn’t.”
“Hey, England’s plenty nice!”
“Okay, so those other countries? They’ve had women in power for years! They have free healthcare and they prioritise parks and schools and shit. England has spent forty years saying women deserve equal pay and still hasn't managed to sort that out yet. Get real, it’s gonna be a long time before they start trying to make things better for people like us.”
“We have free healthcare too.” Matt sniffed, tracing the rim of his wine glass with his fingers.
Mello felt his cheeks flush. He hated being wrong, but it wasn’t as though he ever got to utilise the great NHS. Being an international student, he’d always just paid for insurance instead.
“Whatever, just don’t get your hopes up over that.”
“Do you like, not want it to be legal?” Matt asked sharply.
“What?!”
“Yeah, is this more of your weird internalised catholic gay hate? Is that why you’re so against the possibility?”
Mello was stricken. On one hand- yes, absolutely, as everything did seem to link back to his religious trauma somehow- but on the other hand- no, because that would be extremely fucked up, and what kind of gay would he be if he didn’t support gay marriage?
“No! Fuck, Matt, not everything is about that! Of course I want it to be legal, I just- I don’t trust the government.”
“Yeah,” Matt sighed, shoulders sagging. “Me neither.”
They were quiet for a while as the celebrations raged on indoors, and Matt rolled a cigarette with slightly shaky fingers.
For the first time, Mello thought about the concept of marriage from an entirely new point of view; that of a groom. Not just any groom, but a flaming homosexual groom, arm in arm with his gay husband, flamboyantly gaying up a Church, as he joined Matt in unholy matrimony, under the watchful eye of God. It made him feel queasy.
Sure, he no longer completely hated himself for his unclean, unnatural, homosexual urges, but it was all well and good acting upon them in the neutral grounds of the real world, and then rushing into a confession booth to accept his punishment when the guilt got too strong. But marrying it? Committing to it right there, in God's very own house? Fuck.
Matt was quietly lighting up beside him.
Oh. Mello felt fondness tug at his heartstrings. He was such a sweet boy. Mello’s very own British boyfriend, straight from the halls of The University of Winchester. He was funny and warm, and cute even though his teeth were a bit crooked, and his smile was a little lopsided.
He sort of expected Matt’s family to be a little… odd. After all, wasn’t it strange that he hadn’t met them after they’d been together for almost two years? There had to have been a reason for Matt not to invite him sooner.
What he had not expected, however, was for Matt to be so sad about it. He was usually so chatty, especially when he’d had a few drinks in him! But tonight he was slowly calcifying into a shell of himself, and Mello couldn’t bear it.
Not for the first time, he wished he was a better boyfriend; one without all these complications.
What would a good boyfriend say?
‘Hey, let’s move to Canada so we can get married straight away!’
‘Fuck it, I’ll run for prime minister so I can get the law passed myself, anything for you!’
‘I literally want to cry over the injustice of it all! All I want to do is showcase my love for you via a big, fat, expensive wedding- if I can’t do that, what’s the point in living?’
It was a shame he wasn’t a better boyfriend.
“I didn’t realise it was such a big deal to you.”
“Me neither,” Matt admitted. He blew a big puff of smoke out into the darkness, and they both watched as it danced and faded away into the abyss. “Being here sort of puts things into perspective.”
“Tell me about it?”
“Well… I don’t know. I don’t really care. Like, during the service I was literally thinking this is such bullshit, who needs all those bible verses to tell them what love is, right? You just feel it!"
“Right…”
“But then when they left the Church and everyone was cheering… I don’t know, I just kinda thought… Isn’t it sad that I might never be allowed to marry the person I love?”
“Oh.”
Matt laughed and shook his head, rubbing his face wearily. “That was so lame, oh my god.”
“No, no!” Mello said quickly. “It wasn’t lame.”
“Yeah, it was. I’m sorry.”
“Seriously, Matt, it wasn’t lame. It was a little gay, sure, but not lame.”
Matt laughed, and it sounded thick and wet with unshed emotion.
“Fuck you,” He chuckled, and Mello grinned at him.
“Hopefully tonight. We have to consummate the marriage, don’t we?”
“Ew! It’s not ours to consummate! Yuck, don’t make me think about my cousin like that!”
“Okay, I didn’t say anything about your cousin-“
“You’re so annoying,” Matt rolled his eyes and shoved playfully at Mello’s shoulder.
Only, Mello didn’t do playful. It was all or nothing, and soon enough they were all but wrestling, forgetting the fragile state of the rickety farmers wall. The stones they were sitting on slipped away from the greater structure, and they both tumbled to the ground, either incredibly lucky, or too drunk to realise how badly they’d hurt themselves.
“Let me up- let me up!” Matt gasped from Mello’s headlock, and he reluctantly loosened his grasp.
They both sat there, panting slightly, looking between the stones on the floor and the wall they’d just ripped them from.
“Fuck.” Mello said.
“Fuck.” Matt agreed. “You think we can fix it, or…?”
“Nah, your cousin can pay for the damages.”
“Yeah, her husband seems pretty loaded anyway.”
From beneath Matt’s fringe, a tiny bead of blood began to trickle down his forehead, leaving a shiny crimson trail in its wake. Mello leaned forward to cut its path short, and to investigate the wound that had caused it.
“You cut your head,” he breathed, inspecting the gash just on his hairline. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
Matt shook his head, reaching up to try and touch the wound, but Mello batted his hair away.
“Does it need stitches? Do we have to go to the hospital?”
“No, it’s just a little scratch. You’ll live.” He kissed Matt’s forehead- far away from the lingering blood, and smiled at the way Matt perked up and then immediately caught himself.
“Actually, it really hurts… I think I’m gonna need way more kisses than that-“
“You baby,” Mello rolled his eyes, but he kissed Matt’s forehead again, and then suddenly pulled him into a tight hug, crushing his body against his chest.
Matt didn’t fight it, he leaned into it, wrapping his own arms around Mello’s waist and letting himself be squeezed and squeezed.
“I love you,” Mello said quietly, after a few moments of silence, that was broken only by the sound of chirping crickets, and the sound of the wind in the trees.
“I love you too,” Matt whispered back.
“And if they did legalise it, I’d marry you.”
Matt pulled away, looking up at Mello carefully, a tiny smile playing on the corner of his lips, but perhaps he couldn’t bring himself to believe it, because he fought to maintain a neutral expression.
“Really?”
“Of course... But you’d have to propose properly, this does not replace a proposal, and it has to be special- and no cheap ring. You should really start saving in advance.”
A huge grin broke out across Matt’s face- and there was Mello’s boyfriend, finally thawed from his cryogenic chamber.
“Yeah, ‘Course! I can do something cool! You’ll have the coolest proposal and the best ring- and then we can have a massive party, invite all our friends- fuck, even the reverend can come!”
“We only have like, four friends- and that’s on a good day.”
Matt waved his hands dismissively. “We can make more, we’ve got time!”
“Yeah, years of it…”
“It’ll happen, Mells, I’m sure of it. It’ll happen and then someday, it’ll feel so normal that everyone will forget that we ever had to wait.”
“Yeah,” Mello found Matt’s hand in the darkness, from where it was resting on the grass, and he hooked his pinky finger around Matt’s. “I hope so.”