When the morning comes he'll rise at precisely six, just like every morning.
He'll shuffle over to the shower and run some warm water before slipping off his bedclothes and folding them on the counter with neat creases. Then he'll step into the water gingerly. He'll wash his hair carefully and maybe hum a few bars of a composition that's been tossing around in his mind for a while. When all soap is free of his body he'll stare for an unusually long time at the tiles on the wall before twisting the water off and wrapping his towel around his waist.
Through the steam of the bathroom he'll make his way to the sink and splash some icy water onto his face and then lather it with shaving cream. Less ceremoniously than usual he'll drag his razor over his cheeks. He won't make eye contact with himself in the mirror.
When he's sufficiently clean he'll make his way back into the dark bedroom. He'll switch on the lights and then blink in the sudden brightness. Instead of heading to his closet for his usual dress shirt and coat he'll go unzip the bag draped over his chair and pull out a black tuxedo. Still bleary from waking up, he'll slip it on soundlessly.
He'll look at himself in the mirror and hate every bit of what he sees.
(Just as he's decided that maybe today's not going to be the day he tells her, she calls him.
"Hello?" he says tentatively. Perhaps it's a stroke of luck that's she called precisely at this moment, or perhaps she was thinking the same thing he was. That wasn't possible, was it…?
"Roddy! How are you?" Her voice is a little higher than normal. The words are coming out a bit faster than they usually do.
"I'm…fine…"
"Hey, uh, I gotta tell you something." She sounds as if she's about to burst.
He feels his heartbeat accelerate in his chest. She can't possibly mean what he thinks she means. "Really? I have…something to tell you too…"
"Oh, great! So, do you think you can meet me down in the park in half an hour? It's important, so I want to tell you in person."
He looks over at his calendar. Meeting today in half an hour. "Yeah, I can come."
She squeals. "Thanks so much! It means a lot to me, Roddy."
"No problem," he replies with a small smile, feeling something building in his chest that he hasn't for a long time.)
When he finally gets downstairs he'll glance at the fridge, then decide he doesn't really need any food. He'll instead throw open the doors of the largest room in his house to reveal a sprawling grand piano the color of ravens and ink. Contrary to the rest of the house, the room will be filled with paper scattered across the floor and piano bench.
He'll step up to the piano and touch a few of it's keys longingly before picking up and straightening the sheet music sitting on the rack. With his skilled eyes he'll hear the notes in his mind, but even an untrained musician would be able to look at the scribbled, unsure notes and know that it wasn't his greatest work. This is certainly not one of his best pieces; it lacks emotion. None of the notes have any feeling behind them.
He'll be nowhere near satisfied, but he'll slip it into a folder anyways and make his way to the door.
(He's been waiting there for ten minutes, anticipation building wildly, when he finally sees her walking towards him. She's bundled in a thick coat and her breath wafts around her face in puffy wisps. The brisk air has turned her nose a soft shade of pink. When she sees him, she quickens her pace.
"Roddy!" she laughs when she finally reaches him, and pulls him into a tight hug. He reciprocates it rather awkwardly, patting her back slightly before she lets go.
"Oh gosh," she says breathlessly. "So, you said you had something to tell me? You go first." She beams up at him.
He lets a chuckle escape his lips, but he can feel his insides flop. "No, you go first," he teases her.
"Okay, okay!" She's practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. This is it, he thinks, this is it, oh God. He can feel himself tensing in anticipation. This is the first time he's ever let himself hope that maybe she could feel the same way about him that he does about her. Maybe they could have something, maybe they could have a future together, maybe she'd realized that they could never be with other people and that they were perfect together and that he was the only one who could ever be all she wanted -
"Gilbert proposed to me last night!"
That's when his world falls apart.)
He'll drive up to the church and park in the spot that's been reserved just for him. Before stepping out he'll glance one more time in his rear view mirror, just in case a piece of hair happens to fall out of place.
He'll get out and look over the chapel with a critical eye, but won't be able to find anything wrong with it. A small wedding she wanted and a small wedding she's having. He won't be able to deny the fact that Gilbert has tried his best to make the day just right for her.
He'll still think that he could have done it a lot better.
(She's been babbling about it for the past five minutes, and he hasn't heard any of it.
How did he even let himself think…
"Don't you think, Roddy?" she says suddenly, pulling him from his reverie.
He twists his lips into a convincing smile and nods to her. "I'm…really happy for you, Elizaveta."
She looks like she's about to implode with happiness. "Thank you, Roddy, you have no idea how much that means to me." Her eyes look like they're about to overflow when they widen. "Oh! I forgot, what did you want to tell me?"
He looks at her for a moment before smiling sadly. "Nothing.")
He'll be a little overwhelmed at the number of people inside that he's never seen before - friends and relatives of Gilbert's, and even some of Elizaveta's family that he's never met. All of them will seem busy and occupied and he'll just sort of stand there and feel out of place until a person acting in charge sends him down the hallway to where he should stand until the ceremony starts.
There he'll wait and maybe rehearse in his mind the notes he has written on the papers in his hands. He'll make a few mental changes here and there, but nothing can really change the fact that his heart is just not in it. He'll adjust his glasses and glance a few times at his watch.
Then he'll see her.
(She asks him if he wants to come with him to pick out the dress. He tells her no, thank you.)
She'll look like a princess. No - she is a princess, and everyone else there is just a lowly servant of hers. She'll practically float over to him with that huge, contagious smile across her face.
"Hey Roddy," she'll call to him, just the way he echoes it in his mind before he falls asleep. Hey Roddy, hey Roddy, hey, Roddy.
She'll thank him so much for everything and he'll just smile a little and tell her how beautiful she is and how happy he is for her. She'll beam at him in that way she has of making you feel like you're the most important person in the world. She'll tiptoe up and kiss his cheek ever-so-slightly.
Then she'll leave him alone again.
(She calls him about a month later, in the late afternoon.
"Roddy," she says, and he can hear by the way her breath catches in her throat that she's been crying.
"What's wrong?"
She chokes out a sob. "Gil and I had a fight. It w-wasn't a big deal, but he left and I'm not sure where he is. I just n-need someone to talk to."
"I'm here, I'm here," he says in what he hopes is a comforting voice. "What happened?"
"I just - " She breaks off suddenly. "Oh, that's him calling. I better get it, see what's going on. I'll call you back in a little bit, mmkay?"
"Okay," he says. He stays on the line until she hangs up.
She never calls back.)
He'll be alone until he gets an unexpected visitor - a white-haired young man with glinting red eyes. Roderich is used to seeing the man in jeans and t-shirts, so the suit he's wearing will seem very out of place on him.
"Sup, specs?" Gilbert will chuckle, leaning up onto the wall next to him.
Roderich will begin to protest at the nickname before Gilbert raises a hand to stop him. He'll tell Roderich just how much it means to him that he's there, because it means everything to his dear "Eliza" and anything that makes her happy, makes him happy. He'll say that he knows Roderich is her best friend and so he wants to end the rivalry between them, because her happiness is all he wants.
And how will Roderich be able to bring himself to hate him?
(The ring is a small gold band with a diagonal line of small diamonds across the front. It's different, and he knows he would have picked out the same one for her. Every time she looks at it and smiles or absently runs her fingers across it, he wishes he had.)
At last he'll be sent for. Instead of walking down the aisle he'll enter through a back entrance and seat himself at the white piano that sits besides the altar. After the people in the chapel have quieted down he'll play a simple entry song as the priest makes his way to the front of the room.
A few words will be said, but he won't hear them. Suddenly everything will be blurry, as if his glasses have fogged up, and he'll miss a good part of the ceremony.
Then she'll walk down the aisle. And everything else will fade away.
("Roddy," she says one day when they're out to lunch together.
"Hm?" he says absently, squinting at him menu.
"It would mean the world to me if you'd…if you'd play piano at my wedding."
He puts the menu down slowly and looks at her. Her face is absolutely serious.
"Please?"
"Yes. Of course.")
She'll finally make it to the altar and he'll nearly miss a note because of the way she is shining, radiating out across the entire audience. She'll throw him a quick smile but then her eyes will belong only to Gilbert's and they'll gaze at each other like they're the only ones in the room. Roderich will feel like he's being stabbed.
They'll say some sweet things to each other and then they'll signal him and he'll play it, the song he wrote just for their holy matrimony. Nobody in the chapel seems to hear the hollowness of it that rings clear in his ears.
A few more words will be spoken, and then the priest request that anyone who objects to this marriage to please stand or forever hold their peace.
("You know," she says, "back when we were little and I first met you, I thought WE were going to get married! Isn't that weird?")
The moment will pass in silence.
("Hey, Roddy."
They're sitting on the couch, watching reruns. He's more absorbed in the newspaper than the television. "Yes?"
"No matter what, we're still best friends, you know that, right? Nothing could ever change that."
He can't keep the bitter smile from his lips. "I know. I know.")
He won't stay for the reception. He won't sit next to her at her table and deliver the best man's speech he promised to write. He won't look at the way she looks at her husband and the way that he looks at her and the way they really look like two people who belong to each other.
Instead, as soon as he can, he'll find his way out of the little church and get into his car. He won't stop at home to change out of his suit. He'll just turn the keys in the ignition and drive and drive and ignore all the missed calls and the texts and the voicemails. He'll drive until night falls and he won't let himself think about anything but the road and he won't let himself cry until his car runs out of gas and he rolls to a stop on the side of a street he's never seen before. Then his body shudders and he isn't sure if he'll ever be able to breathe again.
In the morning he'll keep driving. It'll be a long time before he looks back.
("Elizaveta?"
"Yeah?"
"…Nothing.")