The lights are casting a nice, warm atmosphere as several people dance. Many congregate near the punch bowl, laughing and giving inquiries as to their companion's lives. The bride and her groom are waltzing in the center of the room, accompanied by a few bridesmaids and their dates. Everyone is dressed up, everyone is participating in this event.

My collar feels a tad tight, as to be expected from a suit that is several years too small for me. Token is off in the distance, conversing with someone he knows from somewhere. Though I wish to keep watching him, my gaze is tugged back to the main couple: still swaying together to the beat.

"Don't they look amazing together?" he says- much too close- invading my personal space. The newly wed wife's long black hair cascades down her back in waves. The male is smiling- truly smiling- with her, holding her dear in his arms. He's entranced with everything about her: truly in love.

"Yes. Yes they do." Cartman snorts and withdraws, touching me briefly on the shoulder.

"You're such a pussy, Craig."

Warm sunlight filtering in through the crack in the drawn kitchen. A blanket clings to his body, refusing to let go without being removed manually. The air smells like morning, the yawn that escapes his body is loud.

He nearly chokes when human flesh touches his own, an arm draping across his middle and pulling him close. The owner of the limb pulls themselves up to whisper in his bedraggled hair.

"G'morning, Craig."

"Craig. You have to." I shake my head. "Fuck, man. You can't just leave and not say anything."

My hands grip the steering wheel tightly as I shake, everything that's happened over the past few months boiling up. I can feel it bubbling: twisting, coiling.

My head slams against my hands, sobs racking my body. I don't want to do this. I didn't want to see this. Token's arm wraps around my chest, tugging me close. Fuck, I hate getting hugged, but I honestly don't care right now.

Bacon sizzles in the pan and this person- that he spent the night with?- flips them over and continues to cook. Craig gets up to pour himself a glass of orange juice, leaning against the cabinet after he does so, ready to get some answers.

"What... What happened last night?"

The person turns away from the food, wiping their hands on the apron they had adorned.

"Don't tell me you don't remember?"

I muster what little courage I have and approach the couple, squaring my shoulders and tightening my resolve. I need this. I need this closure.

People around them turn, mouths hanging open. Why is he daring to come near them? Does he not remember what he did?

"What's my name?" the other says, a mischievous grin donning their face.

I call out, hand extended to touch what had once been mine, long, long ago.

"It's..."

"Wendy."

She smiles ruefully, hugging the male. "That's right. Any time you call my name, I'll be there for you. No matter what. Even if it's just for a cry, like last night."

She shakes her head slightly, angling her face so that she looks even more stunning than the last time I saw her.

"Craig..."

"I promise."

"'You promise?'" Craig says incredulously. "Why would you promise?"

"Because I never break a promise."

"I'm breaking this one."

fin