Chapter Text
Yamaguchi had always loved weddings.
From the music, the dancing, and even the drunken uncles—he loved it all. It was a celebration of love, of happiness, and of hope. He yearned for the day he’d be the one at the altar, surrounded by everyone he cared about, and his soulmate. He knew it would be perfect on his special day.
“My god, the suit looks breathtaking,” the seamstress beamed. “It’ll be a showstopper at the altar, that's for sure. You look amazing.”
“You think so?”
“Like it was made for you.”
He took a moment to admire the suit—perfectly tailored and hemmed, not a single fray in sight. It was carefully embroidered with small, detailed embellishments to make an otherwise simple tuxedo feel personable. Yamaguchi beamed as he looked at himself in the mirror; the outfit itself felt as if life had been breathed into it, thanks to the lovely seamstress, of course. The cufflinks were detailed on the inside, with the wedding date engraved. His thumb softly grazed the numbers, March 12th, a beautiful spring day, one that can never be forgotten.
“Sir!” another worker called, with a phone waving in his hand, immediately pulling Yamaguchi out of his head. “It’s the groom on the line.”
Yamaguchi smiled, quickly answering the call. “Ennoshita! The suit looks beautiful. Thank god we’re about the same size. I’ll be there soon, and remember it's your special day. Don’t stress yourself out.”
He changed out of the suit, thanking the workers as he rushed out of the store—tuxedo in hand. The man was thrilled about the wedding, even if there were a lot of stressful nights helping the couple plan.
As Yamaguchi hurried through the crowded streets, he saw a familiar face.
“Suga! There you are! You look great!” he exclaimed, rummaging through his bag. “Here, I brought you Vaseline, extra buttons, and a tie. About your hair—”
The other groomsman groaned, “What?” He rolled his eyes and pointed to his hair. “Ennoshita said slicked back, and guess what? It’s slicked back.”
“It’s okay, I’ll fix it inside,” Yamaguchi laughed. Suga was one of his best friends but also the biggest pain in his ass in half of these ceremonies. Note to self: never have him as a best man.
Once they arrived at the venue, he scanned the room and sorted through his mental checklist for the day. Flowers? Set. Catering? Prepping after the ceremony. Everything fell into place in just the way it was supposed to. It was perfect. Like every other wedding Yamaguchi had planned. Damn, he was good at this.
The officiant began with the usual, “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union…” and time was ticking, very slowly. Attending so many weddings makes it inevitable to memorize the entire speech the officiants give. They're gathered here to celebrate, with friends and family, their “coming together,” in holy matrimony. Don’t get him wrong, he loved the ceremony. It’s something sacred, and you could just see how much it mattered on Ennoshita’s face right now. It’s just that he had somewhere else to be—at possibly, maybe, the exact same time.
After that abnormally long spiel from the priest, Yamaguchi said his congrats, greeted a few friends, and helped with a quick seating mishap. He quietly slipped out of the venue, then ungracefully sprinted to the sidewalk to flag down a taxi.
“Could you possibly get me to 33 Water Street? I can give you 300 dollars flat for the night if you’re able to drive me back and forth. Is that alright with you?”
The cab driver looked at him like he was insane (which, frankly, he probably was) before just nodding in agreement. Then the night had truly begun as the car took off, going nearly across town to the other venue. Yamaguchi quickly changed blazers in the backseat and switched shoes to go for the more retro vibe of this wedding—seriously who thinks of 60s as a theme—before booking it into the next church. Thank god the couple decided to have the ceremony earlier in the morning for less heat, or else he would've totally been screwed.
“Thank god you're here! I'm freaking out! I totally tore some of my dress near the corset part!” the bride lamented, clearly overwhelmed about the entire day.
Yamaguchi sifted through his bag some thread and a needle, “Don’t worry, stuff like this happens all the time!” Not forgetting to flash a reassuring smile to calm at least some of her nerves down.
After carefully threading through the tiny hole—thank god for that one sewing course he’d taken. He made his way to the ceremony, as a groomsman, again. Yamaguchi stood and heard the same exact speech from the officiant. Still, even though it may be a bit boring to some, he couldn’t help but tear up a bit when looking at his friend’s soon-to-be husband at the altar. It was a look of adoration, the kind of emotion someone just can’t fake. There's something about that glint in a groom’s eyes as they watch their soulmate walk down the aisle. They always smile fondly, warmly, and every ounce of their expression reads as pure love. It pulls Yamaguchi’s heartstrings every time as he yearns for that same look in his own life, but sometimes you can only be a groomsman, never the actual groom. He had made some peace with that over time. At least he had experienced 20 wedding parties in his adulthood, and it’s enough to stilt his little yearning heart for just a bit. Right now it wasn’t about him, or what he wanted; it was about pushing other people up to shine.
This ceremony was beautiful and swift, but due to the many tears shed by both the bride and groom, Yamaguchi did have to linger for a while to comfort many of the other guests and help touch up the bride’s makeup. Then again, like clockwork, he snuck off through a back door and booked it again to the cab. But the driver was just
“What are you doing!? Get back in the car! We have to be quick!” He shouted, shooing the driver back into the car.
As soon as he got in, it was back to the routine. He threw off his tie in exchange for the darker blue one, a color Ennoshita specifically selected for the groomsmen because it ‘made his hair pop.’ His hair had definitely gotten messed up throughout all of this, but he doubted anyone would really notice, since the reception probably just started. Driving back and forth was a bit tiring, but at least it gave him a second to breathe. It was only 15 minutes, but it gave him time to scroll on his phone, check his planner, and quickly rest his eyes. He needed a second to himself where he wasn’t folding a napkin, cleaning a spill, or helping a bride pee.
Sure, he loved weddings, but they could get a little overwhelming sometimes. The bright lights, the kids crying, and the drunken yelling all happen simultaneously as the Cupid Shuffle blares in the bathroom. He’s been to enough weddings to know when he needed a breather or when guests had begun to go over their limit. And Suga was one of the guests who always did.
“Which one do you want? Blonde or brunette? I’m kind of into the brunette.” Suga teased, fourth drink in hand, once he found Yamaguchi again.
“You’re so inappropriate, I’m not answering that.”
“What? We’ve been in like three weddings now, and the only reason I wear this suit is so some drunken guy will tear it off me.” Suga laughed, pointing at one of the men he motioned to earlier. “Specifically that buff brunette over there, like hello, Hercules?” Then he promptly walked off, either to get another drink or pounce on that poor man.
With that, it was Yamaguchi’s cue to bolt back out, finally adjusting to the back and forth of each wedding. He was having a good time at both; he danced, he mingled, and he took a reasonable amount of shots. But the best part was that his strategy worked; no one had noticed his mysterious disappearances. To be fair, the only person who would've questioned him would be Suga—who was probably six shots in and preoccupied with one of the other guests.
----------------------------------------------------
Tsukishima hadn't always hated weddings.
It was just something about being single at every single one of these vibrant declarations of love that made a man bitter. It was always the same. The same 10 songs. The same undercooked food. The same drunk uncles and even the same drunk aunties that always made a quick move on him; it was insufferable.
Yet, here he was, sitting under the beaming sun, hearing the officiant say the same same speech; Christ, he probably had it memorized at this point. Matrimony, faith, companionship, unity; it was an hour too long for him. At least there were some decent parts of it; the venue was nice, the people were nice, it was just an average spring wedding, one that he had seen dozens of times. He had grown bored of it; the vows began to blur together after the fifth ceremony he’d attended, and after the tenth he could barely even tell you what color the bride was wearing.
At least the reception was entertaining; the groomsmen were drunker than ever thanks to the open bar, and with that came a very entertaining dance floor. It was fun for a while; he had small conversations with a few of the other guests—the groom's friends from high school apparently—until it had grown uncomfortably quiet (well as quiet as it can be at a reception). With that, he muttered a quick goodbye and went to get some fresh air in the front of the hall. It was a very beautiful venue; the inside had stunning flower arrangements, and the front felt like a grand garden. It was obvious that this wedding cost a pretty penny.
It wasn’t exactly quiet outside; you could still hear the music blaring from inside the venue, and there was never a dull moment in the city, but it was enough to allow him to decompress for a second. He had never been a social or friendly person. Rather, many people would describe him as a jackass, so being so hospitable for these past few hours took a toll on his social battery. But as he scrolled on his phone, checking his emails and the weather, which was almost as boring as being inside, his phone rang. It was one of his coworkers, probably to ask for any details on the wedding. He walked a bit farther from the venue, inching closer to the sidewalk, as an almost precaution for Tsukishima’s inevitable complaining. Something no one at that wedding would be happy to hear.
“So, how's the party?” His coworker, Kuroo, questioned, “Meet any cute girls yet, ones that you could sweep off their feet?”
“The party’s not horrible,” he said flatly, fully ignoring the other man’s question. “The DJ definitely isn’t exciting, so I’ll be back in like two hours, give or take—” Tsukishima paused, noticing one of the groomsmen from earlier frantically taking off his tie as sprints to a nearby cab.
“Actually, Kuroo, I’ll call you back.” He stared for a second; where the hell was that guy going? It wasn’t his business, sure—but just from looking at the dude, he didn't seem like the “ditch your dear friend's wedding” type. And trust him, there were so many men that fit that type.
Whatever. Wasn't his problem. Tsukishima retreated inside, where he watched a bunch of wasted adults attempt to dance. He had a few conversations here and there with some of the other guests as a means to pass the time (and delay calling Kuroo back). It wasn’t the most thrilling, but it was as entertaining as it gets at weddings. Especially when you don’t really know a single person there. Scanning the room, Tsukishima noticed that same guy again and, almost as quickly as he left, the green-haired man was back, chatting with another groomsman as if nothing had happened. What was his deal?
He decided to keep his eye on him for the night because, hell, he was already people-watching. This guy seriously intrigued him, though, because, throughout the reception, he kept subtly sprinting out, then appearing right back where he was. Once, with a neon green tie and orange shoes. Seriously, where was he going, and specifically wearing that?
----------------------------------------------------
Things were going smoothly, well, as smoothly as they could go for being in two weddings. Nobody had asked any questions or even noticed how tired he had gotten; to be fair, it takes a lot out of you to be running and changing multiple times in an evening. It was still perfect, though. He was still able to be there to help both his friends out in any way they needed. Whether it was to kick a man out for being disruptive or just hand out party favors, he was their guy for the night. A man to rely on.
At separate times, both men even took the time out of their celebration to acknowledge his efforts. Different venues, different people, but the same sentiment.
“I’d like to take a moment,” Ennoshita said,
“To give a special thank you to the guy who’s…” the other bride exclaimed.
“Really gone above and beyond with everything.”
“The guy who not only designed each and every one of your guys' invitations…”
“But only planned the entire bachelor trip,”
“And went to the caterers, the venue, the florists, and the bakers…”
“Who saw me at my best dressed and most stressed.”
“So, thank you, Yamaguchi.”
During both receptions, he gave the same awkward laugh and wave to the people staring at him. It wasn’t like he despised being the center of attention; he just wasn't really used to it. He was the type of guy to fade into the background. Sometimes he reminded himself of an extra in a TV show or a supporting role at most, so getting attention, especially at an event as big as a wedding, was always a bit unnatural. Even still, to see the smiles on his friends' faces throughout the entire day, he felt as if all his work was worth it. Not for the acknowledgement or any praise, but to make sure these people had the greatest day of their lives.
Ennoshita’s wedding quickly went back to a great time as everyone lined up for a bouquet toss. Yamaguchi didn't participate; he never did, always preferring to stand in the back of the crowd and watch the crazed people fight over it. But that bouquet was thrown with quite a bit of force, and was now barreling straight towards him. Which he did not account for, because he did not expect the bride to have that nasty of a throw. Nor did he account for the stampede of those exact crazed people, solely focused on those flowers, catching him in the crossfire.
The next thing he knew, he was on the ground, fully disoriented for a few seconds. Had he passed out? How much time had gone by? Was he supposed to be at the other wedding by now? Who was the guy hunched over him?
“Hey, hey, hey, take it easy. Don't get up too fast.” The blonde guy above him calmly said, noticing he was awake.
“Okay, this is a serious injury. I need whisky, something he can bite on, and a wheelchair, stat!” He joked, simultaneously helping Yamaguchi up, “but seriously, people, he’s fine. Just a little bump on the head.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“Not at all, but tweedle twee and tweedle drunk,” he quickly motioned at Suga and that goddamn brunette, “were bugging me. Okay, do you know your name?”
“Yamaguchi.”
“Perfect. I'm Tsukishima.” The blonde smirked, slinging an arm around the other’s shoulders to make sure he didn’t topple over again. “Now, let's get you home.”
Making one last glance at the crowd, Yamaguchi shrank at the concerned glances. There was a twinge of guilt for drawing more attention than needed, especially on a day that isn’t his. And for worrying Suga, and possibly cock-blocking him. But, right now, his head was killing him, and the fall coupled with the past few shots he’d taken was a disaster waiting to happen. So, he reluctantly leaned into the other man and let him call the cab.
“So, you can run, huh? Saw you bolting out of the venue a few times.” Tsukishima teased, opening the car door for Yamaguchi, then following right in himself. Wait what?
“You were in two weddings in one night, weren’t you?” The blonde leaned a bit forward, clearly amused by the situation. “That’s a bit upsetting, don’t you think?”
“They’re um, both really great friends. Their weddings just happened to be on the same night, and I wanted to be there for them. What was I supposed to do?” Yamaguchi felt like throwing up; he didn’t even know the guy, and he probably looked like some horrible friend. And this guy’s tone was definitely not helping that anxiety.
“Oh, that’s not even the upsetting part. How do you stand it?”
“Stand what?”
“The weddings? Isn’t one enough?”
Yamaguchi turned to him, mouth agape. “I’ve loved weddings; I’ve always had.” It definitely came out too quickly and sounded very defensive. But weddings were sacred and prized in his mind, and he didn’t really appreciate any slander.
Yet apparently the guy didn’t get that hint and instead just scoffed, “Really? Which part? The absolutely horrid music, the blazing heat, or the forced merriment and crocodile tears?”
“Actually, the highlight is always meeting joyful people like yourself,” he deadpanned. “And those tears are not fake, nor is the happiness forced. It’s a representation of their love!”
Tsukishima laughed in his face, “Love and marriage are just bullshit.”
“You’re not serious!” He gasped, “Love just takes patience; it takes real work.”
“It takes slowly losing your mind.”
“What is it you do again?”
“I’m a writer.”
Yamaguchi clicked his tongue and smirked, “Right, that checks out.” Because all writers were usually just pretentious assholes, and this guy was no different. Quickly gathering his array of things—phone, blazer, ties, and multiple shoes—he exited. “Well, this is my building.” Yamaguchi paid the cab driver 300 dollars, as promised, and kindly thanked him for the night. Now, he was ready to collapse into bed and debrief with Suga tomorrow.
But the world was never that kind because Tsukishima also got up following him, which was not a part of the plan. Yamaguchi immediately motioned to the driver, “Wait, hold on, he’s going to be back!” then continued to walk.
“Don’t you just think it’s trivial? I mean, they’re just a waste of money! Let’s face it–it’s got a 50/50 shot of making it out the gate.”
Man, this guy does not back down; he’s the worst kind of chatterbox there is. Yamaguchi whipped his head around, clearly peeved. “Do you also go around telling little kids that Santa Claus isn’t real? Cause someone needs to ruin that shit for them too.”
“So you believe that marriage is kinda like believing in Santa?” The smirk on this guy’s face was insufferable.
“No, I–” he stammered, “I don’t even know why I’m arguing this with you, but marriage, like everything, isn’t easy! Love is something beautiful but straightforward or simple! But I guess cynicism and negativity are. Now, goodbye and goodnight.”
“Are you gonna be in more weddings next Saturday? Or is that another bachelor party?”
With a quick wave, Yamaguchi shut the door and went up to his apartment, with Tsukishima’s teasing still circling in his mind. Thank god he’ll never see that guy again.