He's nervous.
Any groom would be.
He nervously adjusts his collar for the fiftieth time as his best man, who is, in fact, a woman, tells him that he looks fine, he'll do great, anyway, what does it matter? It's just one day.
He smiles at her, and tells her she looks better in the suit than he ever could, cleaning his glasses, again repetitively. She gently takes them from his hands and rests them on his nose, smiling in his eyes and kissing his cheek.
"You'll be fine. He loves you and that's all that matters."
—
He's nervous, too.
More nervous than the other.
His best man simply sits by with a beer, watching as he paces and messes his hair and fixes it again, mumbling to himself about everything that could go wrong.
After ten minutes of it, though, the best man stands, throwing an arm around his shoulder and telling him that he'll be fine, and that he's so lucky to be going through with this.
That makes him feel worse, though, until finally his best man gives up and sits back to the side, watching his friend slowly calm down.
—
She's nervous.
This wedding is less than conventional, and she has so many roles to play.
She smiles and stays cool, because that's what she does. She knows it's an honor to be his best man, even if it's because the other took his first choice.
She wonders if anyone can see the half-frown that's always ready to spring onto her face. She's happy, she knows, but that little worry always wants to creep in.
"It's just one day." That's what she told him, and it'll have to keep her sane as well.
—
She's nervous, too.
Sure, she shouldn't be. She's not even a part of it.
But being there and watching the man she left get married stirs up some old longing inside of her, and she feels like she should've done better, to not be the only one left out.
She wonders if she hadn't been the way she had, they might've had a chance.
But when his best man, her best woman, sits by her side, whispering in her ear the silly things he'd said, she laughs and forgets her trouble. When she's asked at the last minute to speak, she knows exactly what she'll say.
She knows he'll be happier now than he ever was with her.
—
He's not nervous.
He knows it'll all go without a hitch, because that's just how things go when everyone else worries about it that much.
He takes it as his job to help everyone else stay calm, and sometimes that means sitting by the wayside and watching. And sometimes it means slapping some sense into your irrationally-worried friend. It's a best man's job.
He wishes she could have been here to see this. It's been too long. Sure, he's seen love in other places, but there was never anyone quite like his sweet angel. And no one would be able to appreciate this huge step forward as much as she would.
He smiles and sips his beer, still watching the groom pace, and sends up a quiet prayer that she'll be able to watch this happen.
—
She's not nervous, either.
She's dead, after all. Well, in the bodily sense of the word. A spirit like hers could never die.
Her soul smiled as she watched everything around her, watched the two she'd known from the start were soulmates prepare to tie the final bond. Watched her own soul's partner smile and watch from the sidelines, and saw him mouth a prayer for her, and smiled because here she was. Watched as her whole family readied themselves.
She silently followed each one of them, silently placing a kiss on their hearts, to give them the feeling she was there. She smiled as their breaths deepened when she passed by, their eyes opened, and they smiled.
This wasn't her day, but she was glad to be some part in it.