A/N: This is actually a sub-plot/transitionary backstory in Water to Your Fire. I decided to cheat and do a one-shot by replacing ALL the characters in the original with the Victorious cast. (I was terribly bored)
If you're interested, the original is the chapter with the same title.
PS: I was winging it with the other pairings here, though the main one is Jade/Beck. I apologize in advance if it's not to your taste. Oh, and it's OOC (a bit) and AU (obviously).
Disclaimer: Victorious and its characters belong to where it legally belongs, i.e. not me.
Title: Happily Ever After
Beck is barely five years old when he first heard it.
It was early August and he is with his nanny playing with a big, wooden toy truck polished and painted to perfection.
His nanny, an elderly lady named Maria, is a kind woman with soft and gentle hands. She carefully lifted a stringed puppet with those hands and motioned the little boy to look at it, which he did with an obvious delight; it was his favorite thing to watch.
It was two minutes into Ponyo's dance - that was the name he gave to the wooden puppet - when he heard the shouting. He turned to his nanny in confusion and asked her to make the noises stop because it was interfering with Ponyo's dance.
Maria is about to answer when they both heard a cacophony of crashing, more shouting, and loud banging. Now scared, his little hands clutched at Maria's skirt.
"C'mon, mijo, let's go to your room," the elder woman softly said, gently picking up the scared boy. Beck whimpered, immediately hugged his nanny's neck and buried his head to her neck to muffle the bad sounds. Maria made some shushing noises and he calmed a little, but his hands are still holding on tightly.
They then walked towards the adjacent door specifically built between his room and his playroom. Inside, she immediately put little Beck in bed, threw the covers at his little body, and asked him if he wanted a lullaby.
"Sing me my favorite Jesus' birthday song," the boy demanded.
"You mean your favorite Christmas song, mijo?"
"Yes!"
The elder woman chuckled, but slightly frowned when the shouting and banging outside continues. She smoothed the bed and softly said, "I'll sing it for you, mijo. But promise me that you'll only listen to my voice and ignore the bad sounds you're hearing, okay?"
"Sí!"
The woman smiled warmly at him, told him to close his eyes, and started singing softly.
"A la nanita nana, nanita ea, nanita ea
Mi Jesus tiene sueño
Bendito sea, bendito sea.
A la nanita nana, nanita ea, nanita ea
Mi Jesus tiene sueño
Bendito sea, bendito sea..."
The gentle voice washed over the boy and he smiled: little Beck love hearing that song, especially when her nanny is singing it to him every Jesus' birthday.
"Fuentecilla que core,
Clara-y sonora.
Ruiseñor q'en la selva
Cantando lloras.
Callad mientras la cuna se balancea
A la nanita nana, nanita ea..."
His young mind is imagining last year when his father, his mother, and his nana is seated at the big sofas in the living room on the night before Jesus' birthday. He was cuddled to his nanny, as usual, and he was sipping a warm cup of cocoa.
"A la nanita nana, nanita ea, nanita ea
Mi Jesus tiene sueño
Bendito sea, bendito sea.
Florecilla del campo, rosa en capullo
Duerme vida mia, mientras te arullo.
Callad mientras la cuna se balancea
A la nanita nana, nanita ea..."
He never cuddled to his parents, only Maria. His father is always approachable though, even when he's busy talking to big men in suits; he liked that about him. His papa is a big, strong businessman and he always have time for little Beck.
But not his mama; she was never near him, and every time he tries to come closer, his mama makes this weird expression that never fails to make him feel so... unwanted.
So he never tried to go to her again.
"A la nanita nana, nanita ea, nanita ea
Mi Jesus tiene sueño
Bendito sea, bendito sea..."
The boy is starting to drift off, his beloved nanny's voice carrying him to peaceful sleep. But before his consciousness finally settle in a deep slumber, a fleeting thought crossed his mind:
I wish mama, papa, and I stayed together forever...
Beck is eight years old the first time he saw them.
It was after class when the driver and Maria picked him up from school as usual. On the way home, he was re-telling some mundane things that only children his age cares about, but Maria is listening intently to him with her eyes crinkled and with a soft smile.
She was always patient with him.
Half and hour later, they finally pulled over at the mansion. Beck opened the car's door in haste and sprinted towards the stairs, Maria shouting at him to be careful. He ran and ran, consciously mindful of him possibly slipping like that time last year.
Upon reaching the second floor, he jogged to the left hallway, his destination at the end of the long hallway and his mind focused on his new toys that his papa brought back from Europe.
Then he heard it.
It was when he reached the middle part of the hallway when the strange sounds reached his ears. He stopped, listened, and realized that it's coming from one of the spare bedrooms. An involuntary chill ran into his spine, perturbed when he realized that it's suppose to be empty.
Maybe it's one of the maid? his mind tried to reassure, but realized with a gasp that all the maids are busy at the kitchen.
Visions of scary ghost and frightening monsters were conjured by his over imaginative mind, and when he's certain that there's a ghost of a monster inside the unused room, it slowly opened.
He saw a tall, good-looking man standing at the door, his blue eyes widening in surprise when he saw a wide-eyed boy standing in front of him. Beck is equally shocked, too, seeing that there's a strange, shirtless man in front of him.
Before Beck could scream the house down about some naked stranger, he saw another figure in the door and it muted him.
It was his mama.
"I thought your kid won't be back soon!" the shirtless man hissed, accepting the blue polo that his mama shoved at him.
"I thought it was today," his mama said, shrugging. "Now go out the back, I'll deal with him."
The man nodded at him, spared a half curious, half scared glance at Beck, and then dashed across the the other hallway, opening a door hidden behind the large painting.
Wide, dark eyes followed the man and it slightly narrowed when it saw how the man moved the large canvass with ease. Only one thing went to Beck's head: only his papa, his mama, Maria, and him knows about that secret door.
"Beck..." his mama drawled, motioning him to come closer. Wary and a little bit scared, he slowly stepped closer to his mama. When he's a foot away, she crouched down within his eye level.
"Now, that man is... a friend. A secret friend. And I want him to remain a secret, do you understand?"
He doesn't. The man is a strange person who knows about the secret door, and his papa always tells him that if a stranger knows your secret and you didn't tell him, he shouldn't be trusted.
"I said, do you understand?" his mama repeated, putting her hands on his shoulder in a vice-like grip. He winced when he felt a painful squeeze, and he nodded vigorously just so she would stop hurting him.
"Good boy," she smiled sweetly and he was pleasantly surprised; his mama never smile at him. He can't help but smile back, a warm feeling started swelling in his chest.
That night when Maria tucked him in bed, she asked him why he seems happier.
"Mama smiled at me today!"
"Really? That's great, mijo!"
"Yeah..." he smiled widely, then remembered the strange man.
"Do you have a secret friend, Maria?"
"Hmmm... like those imaginary friends that you used to have?"
Beck giggled. "No! Like... a real friend that you don't want anyone to find out. Do you have that?"
The elder woman paused, seemingly in deep thought. "No mijo, I don't," she finally said. "If they were my friend, I wouldn't keep them a secret."
Why would mama want to keep it a secret, then? Beck thought, unaware that Maria is watching him closely and putting pieces of puzzles in her mind.
"Do you know someone who has a secret friend, mijo?"
The boy thought back to his mama and her pretty smile. "It's a secret."
Beck is nine years old when his family fell apart before his eyes.
It was the end of summer and he was coming home from his grandparent's house full of stories of his summer adventures.
His grandpa is a wine maker and distributor, so he spent most of his days playing with the worker's children in the huge vineyard. At night though, he spent it mostly in the living room being entertained by his grandpa's fascinating war stories. And when he's doing neither, he's at the balcony with his grandma being taught how to sketch and paint.
He was excited to come home; there's a lot of stories to tell Maria, like the time when his grandpa made him sip some wine. It was bitter, and he was disappointed that it didn't turned into grape juice just like when Maria makes him orange juice out of oranges.
"You'll get it when you're older," his grandpa said, polishing off the bitter grape juice. He just nodded, all the while thinking how he'll rather have Maria's orange juice.
Beck's head is full of thoughts that he never noticed that something was amiss.
When the car came closer to the mansion's entrance, something caught his eye: it was a police cruiser parked near the hedges. Curious, he tapped the driver's shoulder and told him to stop the car so he could get out. Hesitant at first, the driver finally agreed when the boy insisted, though the driver tagged along to keep Beck safe.
Both went out of the car and carefully walked towards the entrance. It was noisy with as police sirens are on full blast and Beck is getting worried, his eyes darting left and right nervously.
What happened? he thought, his imagination in overdrive with the series of possible horrific scenarios.
Before the boy hyperventilates with worry, two police officers came out, carrying a handcuffed man.
It's him! he mentally screamed, surprised. He never saw the man again after her mama made him promise to keep him a secret. The man is not shirtless this time, although his polo is unbuttoned all the way, exposing his chiseled torso. But the most peculiar part of him is his bloody nose and bruised face, and the boy is wondering why a wounded man is being carried off like a criminal.
"Beck!" a voice boomed, grabbing his attention. He saw the familiar black hair and tanned complexion of Benjamin Oliver, and he ran towards him.
"Papa! What happened?" the boy asked, hugging his father like a frightened little boy that he is, seeing how his father is as bloody and bruised as his mama's secret friend.
"Your mama is going away, son," Benjamin declared, his voice grave.
"What? Why?"
"I'll tell you why..." he heard her mama said, gripping his papa's shoulder and whirling him to face her. Her face is set in an angry scowl, and his papa's face is set the same.
Then the shouting began, and this time, a nine-year old Beckett Oliver heard everything.
He found out that his parent's marriage is fixed between their two families, and that his mama never loved his papa. He found out that she never wanted a child with him, but was forced to have one to ensure an heir.
He found out that she has been cheating with her secret friend for years now, and they're planning to elope as soon as they find the perfect opportunity.
He found out how every time she sees her child, all she feels is hatred. He found out how he solidified her prison-like existence, and that she wished that he was never born so she'll at least feel some sort of freedom in her life.
Like a guardian angel, Maria swooped down and whisked the paralyzed boy into another room, away from the terrible shouting. She sat him down on one of the plush sofas and hugged him tight, shushing his crying with words of comfort.
"Stop crying, mijo, everything's gonna be fine. I'm here..."
The boy cried and cried, sniveling into Maria's starched shirt. He cried for his papa, who tried his best to be a father and a husband; he cried for his mama, who hates the life she's living that she's now hurting people; he cried for himself for being an unwanted child to his mama, whom he'd always loved despite her distance.
He cried for a family that never was, never is, and never will be.
Beck is fifteen years old when he had his first kiss.
It was two days before Valentine's day when Catarina, a daughter of one of his father's business associates, came to him with a nervous smile.
"Yes?" he drawled, giving a thin smile as he put his hands on his pocket. He glanced at his chauffeur and motioned with his hand to wait for him.
"Hey, Beck. Would you mind i-if..." the girl stuttered with a blush, and Beck internally scowled. He hates it when people stutter in front of him.
"C'mon, you can tell me..." he softly reassured, giving her a charming smile. He saw her blush visibly deepen as she gave a less nervous smile. He internally smiled in triumph, remembering how his papa is always reminding him to be courteous to girls, even when they are starting to annoy him.
Charm is both an asset and a dangerous weapon, his father always says.
"Well, you know about the dance, right? I was wondering if you and I could..."
"...could go to the dance together?" he finished for her, his eyebrow quirking slightly.
The girl nodded, still blushing heavily. Beck pondered this for a second, weighing the pros and cons of attending the school's silly dance.
Then again, he admires the girl for having the guts to approach him in the first place. He wasn't exactly the most approachable person, never in years now. The nightmare that is six years ago changed him in ways that worried both his papa and Maria.
All because of that... woman, he thought, gritting his teeth hard; it's his unconscious reaction whenever he was reminded of her.
"Beck?" a soft voice asked, and he whipped his head towards the girl. She was staring at him, her expression worried when she saw his darkening expression.
More aware now, he relaxed his posture and his expression and gave a relaxed smile. "Sorry about that, I got lost in my thoughts."
"Yeah, it happens," she nodded, looking relieved that she didn't angered the most popular boy in school.
No, it doesn't, he thought, but still nodded with a smile.
"About that dance... sure, we can go together. It'll be an honor to take you with me," another charming smile, and she's hooked.
Giddy, Catarina gave him her address and the time to pick her up. She then dashed towards her family car waiting on the other side. She went inside, but not before waving coyly at Beck.
He didn't waved back though, just smiled at the her. He waited until her car drove off - just to be polite - before walking towards his.
"Good day, sir?" Conrad the chauffeur asked, his British accent thick. Beck saw him peering at the rear-view mirror so he shrugged in reply.
"Not the worst," he added, throwing his bag beside him before settling in and staring blankly at the car window.
The man just nodded and restarted the car.
"I need the car to be cleaned and polished in two days from now." Beck ordered after a few minutes of silence, his eyes having had enough of the blurry trees and tall buildings. "I'm going to attend a school function and I'm taking someone with me."
"Yes, Mr. Oliver."
When they got home, Maria fussed over Beck when she found out that her little boy is having a date. He smiled genuinely this time and told the woman that it's not a big deal. The nanny is having none of it though, and she made sure that he looks his best for the dance.
Two days later and the polished car is now pulling over at the Valentine's house.
Conrad got out first, walked to the backseat, and opened the door. Beck stepped out, looking dapper in his suit, and motioned for Conrad.
"Go get the flowers," he ordered. Conrad went in front of the car to fetch the beautiful bouquet and stood beside his boss.
He motioned for Conrad to ring the doorbell for him, and he did. A few seconds later and a man is now standing in front of them wearing a big grin.
"Ah, there he is! Come inside, Mr. Oliver, my daughter will be down in a minute."
"Thank you, sir," he politely replied, stepping inside the foyer with the chauffeur in tow. He was offered a seat, and Mr. Valentine started conversing with him. Beck was taught at a young age on how to confidently carry himself in front of an adult, so he conversed with his father's associate with such an ease that the boy undoubtedly impressed the man.
"...so, I expect my daughter to be home on time, Mr. Oliver. No funny business," the man faux-threatened, although Beck felt the seriousness beneath the chuckle.
"You don't have to worry, Mr. Valentine. I respect your daughter's curfew and I'll make sure to bring her home in time."
The answer pleased the man, and he grinned at him which Beck returned with his own gracious smile.
"Good man! Such a fine young man you turned out to be, Mr. Oliver. I'm sure your father is so proud of you. If I have a son like you, I'll be proud as well. But I only have three daughters. And speaking of which..." he trailed off, looking at the petite figure at the top of the stairs with a gentle smile. "Here comes my youngest."
Catarina is wearing a sparkly, off-white dress, and Beck have to admit that she's a pretty girl.
"You look beautiful, Catarina," Beck complimented, knowing that it's the right thing to say. "For you, he added, motioning for Conrad to give him the bouquet. He gave it to the blushing girl with a charming smile.
"Thank you," the girl gushed before giving it to a maid on stand-by, but not before taking a demure whiff at the colorful flowers.
"Shall we?" he asked, offering his arm at her.
The drive to the hotel is uneventful, and Beck tried to coaxed the girl into a conversation. After a while, Catarina finally got comfortable and they both converse lightly as the carefully moved into the traffic.
Twenty minutes later and they're pulling over in front of an elegant hotel, coincidentally owned by Benjamin Oliver himself. So when the car came into the view, the valet immediately jumped into action.
As soon as the two of them stepped inside, all eyes were on them: shocked and jealous stares from some of the girls and envious glances from the boys followed them. Beck then remembered that Catarina Valentine is considered the most popular girl in school.
He just stood tall and shrugged off the attention as the two of them walk across the room. He is used to being gawked at school, especially when he suddenly broke off with his old friends and went solo. Since then, he became the aloof, unattainable boy that every girl is pining for.
So stupid... he thought, internally shaking his head at the gawking and furtive glances. He doesn't get how someone could admire someone else who wouldn't even give their time of the day.
When they're at the table specifically reserved for them, he politely pulled off Catarina's chair as she sat down. He sat on his own and then gestured for the waiter for drinks.
"No, I-"
"Don't worry. It's just sparkling, non-alcoholic peach cider."
The night is a blur of eating, socializing, and teenagers bumping into each other on the dance floor. Like the gentleman his father taught him to be, Beck made sure to dance with her partner and chat with her when they're at the table.
Midnight came, and Beck is satisfied that his date is having a great time: she was impressed with the beautifully decorated table that stood out from the rest, she was giggling as they danced along the fast-paced music, she blushed again when they danced along a slow song, and she was laughing and smiling as they chatted about random, asinine things.
Then it's time to go. The drive back to Catarina's is more lively as the two of them talk about a lot of things. And as the car pulled at the front door, both of them got out and Beck ushered the girl inside.
"I had a great time," Catarina whispered with a coy smile, unmoving in front of the door.
"Me too," he replied with a smile.
He saw her slowly close her her, and he knew what was expected of him. He slowly leaned forward and closed the distance between the two of them, his lips touching gently with hers.
He leaned back, and he saw a hint of smile playing at the girl's pink lips. "Goodnight, Beck."
"Goodnight, Catarina."
The girl quirked her lips in a smile. "Call me Cat," she said before turning and walking away.
Later, the boy will recall the night's events as trees, houses, and buildings became a blur in his eyes. He will recall how the dance is not that bad and he actually enjoyed himself despite his earlier doubts. He will recall the snippets of conversation between him and Cat, thinking that the girl is actually lovely.
He will recall how he found Cat as an amazing girl, capable of holding her end of the conversation. He will also recall how a fleeting thought of being with her suddenly came to him as she smiled her enchanting smile and laughed her lovely laugh.
He will recall how they became comfortable with each other as they conversed more in the car on the way back to hers.
Finally, he will recall how the kiss - his first kiss - felt. He will recall how sweet Cat's breath is (like cherries and apples) and how soft her lips were.
He will recall how, despite all of it, he felt absolutely nothing.
Beck is eighteen years old when he first saw her.
It was the first week of May and the boys of the high school division of St. Therese Academy are starting to get restless. They're are all exhilarated and scared at the idea of the upcoming event that's considered an important milestone in every teenager's life: Junior and Senior Prom.
If the boys are having panic attacks, the girl population is considerably calmer. This is because the ratio of the high school division dictates that the higher percentage are males, and it means one thing:
Every girl will surely have a date.
Because of this, a large percentage of the girls are now unavailable while an even larger percentage of the boys are still hyperventilating with worry.
Which is why Arthur Oliver, Jr. is on his knees, begging his cousin to agree on a double date with him to the prom.
"C'mon Becky!"
"Don't call me that.
"Fine. Agree to me, then."
"No."
The boy, his complexion as tanned as his cousin's but topped with a light brown hair instead, put both his hands together as if on a prayer and gave his most 'charming' expression. "Please?"
Beck just flipped a page of his book, not even sparing a glance at the kneeling, whining boy. "I'm not even attending prom."
And it's true; the last school-wide social event that he participated with is the Valentine day's dance three years ago, and he's not exactly interested in attending more.
When he got back to school after the dance, he trashed the idea of pursuing Cat. He remembered those sad, disappointed eyes when he explained it to her and he felt bad. It was mainly because he genuinely likes her, but only as a potential friend.
So he made sure to at least befriend her, seeing that he enjoyed her company anyway. Since then, he found a new friend to spend his time with on his spare time.
"C'mon, Beck. Just do this for me and I promise that I'll never crash any of your vintage cars ever again," Arthur pleaded.
Beck rolled his eyes, flipping another page. "You can't use that excuse because uncle just banned you from stepping inside our garage again."
"What makes you think that I wouldn't be able to?" the brown-haired boy challenged, his frustration mounting.
Beck chuckled. "Are you seriously threatening to break inside my garage?"
Arthur blinked. "What? No!" he shouted, realizing what he just said. "I'm just making a poi- Damn it! Stop twisting my words!" he protested as Beck started smirking.
"Beck," the brown-haired boy tried again, rearranging his voice to be somewhat calm and soothing. "This is our last prom. And since I know how you hate girls," Beck rolled his eyes at that, "all you have to do is show up and take my date's cousin so my date would be allowed to go."
"So," Arthur continued, "you go with your sort-of date and get to pretend to enjoy the prom, while I go with mine so I could enjoy our last prom. It's a win-win situation."
"Still a no."
Arthur groaned. "Fine," he huffed. "If you agree to this, you can choose from my collection and it's yours."
Beck's hand stopped flipping a page, his face suddenly showing interest. He then slowly closed the book, raising an eyebrow at his cousin's triumphant expression. "I want Hendrix' Strat."
The smug face morphed into a horrified expression. "What? That's worth half a million dollars!" the brown-haired boy exclaimed, suddenly standing up.
"Then no."
"Okay okay," the boy ran a frustrated hand on his hair before exhaling. "How about you choose one that is less than half a million's worth?"
Beck narrowed his eyes at him. "Yeah? Are you forgetting how you crashed two of my vintage California Spyder that dad gave to me on my sixteenth and seventeenth birthday? Both of them are worth more than four millions each."
"Yes, and your point?"
"That you're yet to pay me for the damages done to my cars."
The brown-haired boy schooled a hurt look. "I thought we are family?"
"Yeah, and as your 'family', I demand for Jimi Hendrix's 1968 Fender Stratocaster as compensation for both the car's damages and my services as your wing man."
Green eyes and dark eyes met in a battle of strong will and titanium-like resolve. The green eyes are slightly twitching, not wanting to part with one of his treasures. The dark ones are calm, collected, and with a hint of smugness. It's as if he's already sure that he'll get his way.
And he did.
"Fine!" the brown-haired boy cried, throwing his hands up. "Make sure you look your best at prom night, Becky."
The long-haired boy grinned in triumph. "I sure will, Artie."
Two weeks later and the boys are inside the gleaming, black limousine on their way to Arthur's girlfriend.
No wonder he's so desperate, Beck thought as his cousin explained to him his situation. Apparently, they've been official for a while now. It's still a secret though, seeing as the girl has overprotective parents. And they only let her go as long someone they trust goes with her.
And that's where Beck comes in.
"Only her cousin knows about us, so be nice to her," Arthur warned.
The other boy furrowed his eyebrows at that. "When have I not been nice to any girl?"
The brown-haired boy just glared at him before motioning for him to get out. The Oliver teenagers both got out and rang the doorbell.
"Yes?" a deep voice answered.
"Good evening, Mr. Philips," Arthur answered nervously and Beck can't help but slightly quirk an eyebrow at his cousin's slightly quivering voice.
The brown-haired boy mentioned how he's a bit intimidated by his girlfriend's father, and the other boy can clearly see why: the man is tall, muscular, and huge. He's sporting a mustache and beard, peppered with white hairs that matches the hairs on his head.
"Ah yes, the bane of my existence," the man stated, peering at the nervous boy behind his half-rimmed spectacles. "Come in, the girls are waiting for you," he motioned with his head.
They followed the heavy footsteps, bypassing the tastefully decorated foyer and into the living room.
"Sit."
"Who's this?" the man gruffly asked, narrowing his eyes at Beck.
"This is my cousin, sir," Arthur introduced, giving his cousin a quick work-with-me-here-or-you-won't-get-my-guitar glare before smiling back nervously at the suspicious man.
"Good evening, sir," the long-haired boy politely started while standing up, though he wanted to roll his eyes at his cousin's unnecessary warning. "The name is Beckett Oliver, and it's a pleasure to meet you," he finished with a charming smile and an offered hand.
The man accepted the handshake and gripped the boy's hand a bit too painfully before letting go.
The charming smile didn't fade away though, and Beck made sure that he didn't show any visible distress from the pain. He knows how intimidation games play out; his father has prepared him as much.
Never give anyone the satisfaction of seeing that you are negatively affected by their intimidation, son. Cool disposition is always the key. Always remember that.
"And I must say," Beck continued as he sat down again, "your house is decorated exquisitely, sir."
Compliments work like a charm, my boy. Don't give too much as you'll look like you're too eager to please, but don't be too cheap with it as you'll seem too forced and stiff.
The man slightly quirked an eyebrow at the boy before giving a thin smile. "It should look nice since I paid a lot of money for it."
"And I can clearly see that it's a money well-spent."
The man's eyebrow rose a little higher at the statement as he leaned back a bit on his chair to survey the two boys: a calm Beck on the left and a nervous Arthur on the right. He was about to open his mouth for something to comment after silently scrutinizing the two when a voice was suddenly heard.
"I hope you're not trying to scare away the boys, dear."
"Of course not," the man gruffly replied as an elegantly dressed woman sit beside him. "This is my wife," he addressed Beck, not sparing a glance to the other boy.
"Nice to meet you, ma'am," the long-haired boy drawled, standing up and offering a hand with the palm slightly facing up. The woman offered her own hand as well, and Beck bent down to softly and politely brush his own lips to her fingers.
"You have a very lovely wife, sir," Beck complimented, smiling at the amused woman before looking back at the man who now has his eyebrows scrunched together.
"Oh, such a charming young man," the woman chuckled amusedly before glancing at the other boy and giving him a rather forced smile. "Hello there, Arthur."
"Good evening, Mrs. Philips."
"Well, the girls will be down soon. Would you like some refreshments while you wait?" the woman asked, directing the question to Beck.
"That would be lovely."
After the refreshments are served, a conversation started and was lead by, unsurprisingly, Beck.
"...and my father told the board of directors that he's the head of the company and that what he says goes. So the worker's strike finally stopped when they were eventually given the benefits that they rightfully demanded from the company."
"Your father really is a good man," Mr. Philips nodded, impressed. He finally warmed up to the Oliver cousins, although his words are directed more to the long-haired boy.
"He really is, sir."
"Did your father get married again?"
Beck smiled indulgently at the question, although his cousin - who's starting to get sulky at being thoroughly ignored - noticed the subtle shift in the long-haired boy's mood.
"Yes, ma'am. Just a year ago, and my step-mother is a lovely woman," Beck politely answered, before picking up his glass of iced tea and bringing the cold beverage to his lips.
Even though his father's marital situation is sensitive to him, he is not lying when he said that his step-mother is lovely. She is his father's long time friend and both are almost the same age, so there's no animosity from Beck that his father married someone closer to his son's age.
Though that's the case, Beck still finds himself wary of the woman. He never tried to be close to her, even when the woman is trying. For him, he's only ever had one mother to look up to.
And that's Maria.
The elderly woman passed away a year ago, and Beck is still mourning the loss of the woman who treated him like a son she never had. So when Benjamin saw the added distress that Maria's death caused to his son, he eventually re-married to a woman whom he knew will treat the boy with kindness.
Mrs. Cassandra Oliver is a kind enough person. But Beck knew that to him, she'll just be his father's wife. She'll never be his mother, or even replace Maria's place as his mother figure.
"Will you excuse me, gentlemen? I'll just go and check up on the girls," Mrs. Philips said after loudly commenting on what's taking the two girls so long to come down.
As the woman walked away, Mr. Philips leaned forward a bit. "Young man, do you have a special girl in your life right now?"
Beck is surprised at the question directed to him, again. The brown-haired boy beside him also has his face schooled in a similarly surprised expression.
"No sir, I'm afraid I have yet to find that special someone."
"How would you like it if I tell you that I'll give you my blessing in finding out if my daughter is to your liking?"
"Mr. Philips!" Arthur exclaimed, suddenly standing up, aghast.
"I love my daughter, Beck," the man continues, completely ignoring the other, indignant boy. "And as a father to my only child, I want her to be with someone who would treat her right."
"I'm afraid I can't give any definite answer to your request, Mr. Philips," Beck answered politely, aware of the deadly glare that his cousin is giving him. "Love is a fickle thing, and I can't make any promises if I myself don't know."
"That seems fair," the man nodded with satisfaction, leaning comfortably back to his chair and still ignoring the brown-haired boy. "I'm gonna be honest and say that I'm impressed with you and your manners, Beck. You seem like a fine young man, and that's a rare thing nowadays."
"Just so you know, you'll have my full support," Mr. Philips concluded, still not looking at Arthur who is now sputtering incoherently.
"B-but Mr. P-Philips, I..."
"There they are!" Mrs. Philips' voice echoed from the top of the elegantly crafted mahogany staircase as she ushers down the two young women.
"That's your cue, boys. Let's go," Mr. Philips ordered, standing up and motioning for the Oliver cousins to follow him towards the stairs. As both boys stood up, Arthur didn't waste time and immediately punched his cousin on his arm. Hard.
"Ow! What was that for?"
"I told you to be nice, but you went too far!" the brown-haired boy hissed.
Before Beck could give a retort, they were stopped by Mr. Philips' arm in their chest.
"Stand still and wait for them to go down, boys."
The Oliver cousins now directly at the foot of the staircase, they both looked up and saw the girls.
Arthur Oliver, Jr.'s smile is wide when he saw the love of his life, his bad mood at being outshined by his cousin was swept away by the vision of his lovely girlfriend.
As soon as the two girls descended, the brown-haired boy eagerly went to his girl, smiling adoringly at the vision. The girl is wearing a fuchsia dress with her dark hair down and done with delicate curls that reaches past her shoulder. She is also wearing a beatific smile, her eyes twinkling in merriment at the sight of Arthur.
The girl is gorgeous, and the long-haired boy could admit as much. He felt a fleeting sense of something in his chest, like void of some kind at seeing two people who are obviously in-love with each other.
It saddens Beck that he won't find love as such, although it frightens him if he does find one.
"Nauseating, isn't it?" a melodic voice commented to Beck, who is busy observing his lovestruck cousin.
Remembering his manners, he turned his head from the sickeningly sweet display in front of him and into a pair of mirthful, blue-grey eyes.
"I'm Jade," the girl introduced herself, offering a hand. She is wearing a dark blue ensemble with her raven hair pinned up elegantly. "I believe you'll be my faux date for tonight."
"So," she added before Beck even opened his mouth, "let's try to get along and not kill each other, shall we?" the girl sassed, a smirk forming on her blood red lips.
Beck is twenty years old when he kissed another girl again.
It was semestral break, and his roommate dragged him to New York to watch Spring Awakening.
"You'll love it, I promise."
Beck just chuckled as they strutted along the Broadway street. "You know I'll love it, Harris. But I just don't get why you dragged me along instead of Sapphire."
"It's Shapiro, you ass," André corrected, adjusting his stylish male scarf. "And he has to come back home because his mother misses him."
"He didn't invite you?" he asked, his eyebrow quirking a little.
The man sighed, quickly glancing at his wristwatch as they near the theater. "Of course he didn't. His family doesn't know about us."
"Yet?"
The dreadlocked man just shrugged and walked a little faster, not saying another word. Frowning now, Beck jogged and grasped his elbow to halt him.
"Stop," he insisted. André stopped and faced him, his own dark eyes avoiding the other dark ones. "He is going to tell his parents eventually, right?"
The man shrugged again, still avoiding looking directly to Beck. The long-haired man's expression hardened and he dragged his friend to a corner near a light post.
"You've been with that guy for four years now. Don't you think it's time for him to man up and tell his parents about you?"
"He's not out ye-"
"If he really loves you, he'll make the necessary sacrifice. And if you really want to know if he's the right one for you, then you also have to make your own."
"What are you trying to say?"
"That it's about time to give him an ultimatum."
Dark eyes widened at the statement, but Beck's expression didn't change. André is a dear friend, and he'll be damned if he let someone, especially someone who claims to love the dreadlocked man, walk all over him.
"I don't think that's a good idea, Oliver."
Beck just sighed, his own expression softening when he saw how aghast his friend is at the suggestion. "I just don't think that it's a smart idea to be with someone for so long when you don't even know where you stand with them."
André chuckled, the shock of his friend's statement is slightly wearing off although it obviously had an effect. "That's awfully deep coming from the guy who doesn't even date."
Beck also chuckled. "That makes me logical adviser, Harris." He looked at his wristwatch, noting the time. "C'mon, we'll miss the show. And since your boyfriend is absentee and I'm apparently single, I'll just be your date tonight."
"Buy me dinner later and we'll see what happens," the dreadlocked man sassed, dragging along the laughing Beck to the theater.
The show is spectacular, and Beck almost admitted that he shed a tear at the pure talents on the stage. But he doesn't have to because André has enough tears for the two of them as he stood up at the end, clapping enthusiastically.
"That was fantastic!" André gushed as they walk to the exit.
"It is."
"I wanna get their autographs!"
"It's too crowded."
"I'll chance it. Wait for me here," the man dashed, leaving his perplexed friend near the door. Chuckling, Beck put his hands on his coat pocket and surveyed the Broadway Theater District. His eyes are so busy observing the different marquees of the different theaters that he failed to see a woman walking on the pavement with her head down, rummaging through her bag while muttering obscenities under her breath.
"Ow! Watch it, you moron!"
"I'm sorry, Miss. But you really shouldn't walk in a busy street with your head down."
The woman - who is sprawled on the pavement with a heavy scowl - looked up at the hand offered to her.
"You?"
"Me?"
"Yeah, you," the woman repeated, accepting the hand as the Beck helped her to get back to her feet. "Aren't you Beck Oliver?"
"...yeah? Do I know you from somewhere?" he asked, curious at the pale woman who is vigorously dusting herself unabashedly.
"Remember prom?"
His eyebrows furrowed for a few seconds before the proverbial light bulb on his head were switched on. "Ah, Jadelyn West. It's been a long time. How nice to see you again."
"I see you're still too polite for your own good," she cheekily replied, smirking at the amused man.
"I see you're still as outspoken as I remembered you."
"Touché," the pale woman said, finally done fixing her lightly disheveled appearance. "So, you live in New York now?"
"Not quite. I'm here for this," he replied, pointing at the theater's marquee behind him.
"Ah, Spring Awakening, the one with the boobs," she nodded sagely as Beck chuckled. "You saw it alone?"
"I'm with someone."
"Like a date?" the pale woman inquired, raising a disbelieving eyebrow and Beck presumed that she does remember how he is and how he can be.
Before he could reply though, a breathless André suddenly showed up.
"Those people are animals!" he exclaimed, fixing his disheveled appearance. "I didn't even get a chance to breathe the same air as the supporting casts, let alone get an autograph, before those fans almost trampled me to death," he huffed, before his dark eyes focused on the curious blue-grey ones.
"Oh. Hello there. A friend of yours?" he directed his question at Beck, his eyebrow arching a bit.
"Prom date," Beck replied tersely, and saw the other man's expression morphed from mere curiosity to something akin to witnessing a divine miracle.
"Oh. Oh! You're a girl who used to date him?" André enthusiastically asked before offering a hand. "My name is André Harris, and it's so nice to finally meet such a rare specimen."
"...hi," she accepted the proffered hand. "And no," she stated, before chuckling lightly at his confusion. "I mean, we didn't really date. I became his prom date out of necessity."
"Oh," he replied, visibly disappointed before perking up again. "How about a real date this time?"
"What?"
"Excuse me?"
"Yeah, it could work," André said to himself, ignoring the baffled look of his friend and the pale woman. "You two could walk around in Time Square or something and-"
"Time Square sucks," the pale girl absentmindedly piped in, the incredulous expression still present on her face. "Oh, I'm sorry," she quickly apologized when she realized that she said it out loud. "It can be great and all, but it's just too overrated for me. I prefer somewhere quieter, like the places near Madison Square."
"Then it's settled," André declared, pushing his stoic friend towards the still baffled pale woman. "Go take this lovely young woman from your past and I'll take a cab back to our hotel."
"André."
"Yes Beck?"
"What about our date?" he inquired, earning him a questioning eyebrow from the pale woman.
"Don't worry, he's straight," André reassured when he saw a look of enlightenment and understanding passed on the pale woman's face. "He's just being a good friend."
"No, I mean, it's cool. No judgment here," the pale woman said, shrugging. "It's just that it answers a lot of things that confuses me about him."
The dreadlocked man laughed, instantly liking the girl's attitude. "I know what you mean. But really, he's a nice guy. Give him a chance."
"Okay," the girl acquiesced after a few moments of thinking. "I don't have much to do tonight anyway, so a free dinner sounds good."
"Perfect!" He gestured for a cab to pull over and practically shoved the two inside. "Make sure to get the lady safely home. Oh, and if you're not going back to the hotel, make sure to at least call or text me. Ciao!"
The cab drove away and left a smiling André in it's wake.
"Ahh, young love," André whispered fondly before gesturing for a cab for himself.
Inside the first cab, the forced couple were silent, just listening to the lull of the radio. Remembering his manners, Beck cleared his throat to prompt a conversation.
"Do you always have to do that?" the pale woman suddenly piped in before Beck could say anything.
"Do what?"
Jade lazily gestured to all of him. "Being too polite."
The long-haired man furrowed his eyebrows. "Is that a bad thing?"
"No," the pale woman said, slumping on the backseat. "But it can be annoying."
"How so?" Beck inquired, genuinely confused. It is seldom that he finds someone who reacts negatively to his mannerisms.
"If it's too much, then yes," Jade explained, before leaning back further and settling her body in a way that it faces Beck. "Like now. We both know that you're not exactly thrilled with this date, and yet you're gonna try your hardest to pretend that you are."
"And it's bad because..."
"Because it's fake," the pale woman finished, looking at him straight in the eyes. "Being polite in itself is not a bad thing, but if it's becoming a hindrance in expressing who you are as a person, then it becomes a disease."
"Such a melodramatic statement," the long-haired man chuckled. "What if politeness is tied to one's personality and who he is a person? Does it mean that the person is fake in his entirety just because he refuses to give up a part of himself?"
The pale woman paused, pensive. "Touché," she agreed, nodding. "But does it mean that you, as Beck Oliver, are as polite inside as you are outside?"
Now it's Beck's turn to pause and mull over the words as the pale woman look on with a smug expression. Then without warning, Beck Oliver laughed so hard that the driver peered on his rear-view mirror to check on his passengers.
"You know what? You may be cheeky as hell, but I admit that you're one smart lady," Beck complimented, slightly breathless from a genuine laughter that he hasn't had in more than ten years.
"Is that a curse word I hear, Beckett Oh-So-Polite Oliver?" Jade quipped.
"I'm not as naive as you think, Jadelyn Oh-So-Sassy West," he quipped back, and he was satisfied at the impressed arching of her eyebrow at his comeback.
"Oh, we'll see."
When they arrived at their destination, Jade quickly dragged him towards her favorite restaurant, bypassing some of the fun things that Madison Square Park has to offer.
"They have the best shrimp pasta here," the pale woman commented as they were sat down by a waitress.
As they wait for their orders, the two started catching up.
"Wharton School? Impressive," the pale woman complimented. "Although not that surprising."
Beck chuckled. "Am I that predictable?"
Jade shrugged. "Maybe? It's pretty obvious that you're that type."
"How so?"
"Let's see," the pale woman started, resting her forearms on the table. "You have a cool, calculating demeanor. You have a manipulative streak as observed by your excessive politeness. You're also always calm and collected to the point that it's bizarrely abnormal. Need I say more?"
The long-haired man hummed, neither conforming nor denying. "By the way that you're psychoanalyzing me, I'm concluding that you're in the field of Psychology."
"Are you waiting for me to diagnose you as a psychopath?" the pale woman joked.
"Is that a confirmation on my guess?" the long-haired boy commented, parroting the pale woman's movement by also resting his forearms on the table.
Jade didn't answer, but narrowed her eyes instead and stared at him for a long time. Finally, a Cheshire-like grin surfaced from her face that slightly unnerved Beck.
"You're fascinating," she finally said, and the comment itself is familiar to Beck from his high school years. It's what the girls used to tell him all the time.
But this time, instead of the usual inflection of admiration, Jade's comment is filled with amused wonder, like he's something out of a circus show that she's admiring and wanting to poke with a stick.
"Your way with words, I mean," the pale woman chuckled at his apparent puzzlement. "You managed to subtly and smoothly re-route a conversation away from you without batting an eyelid. It's fascinating."
Before the long-haired man could retort, their order came. They ate in silence, both subtly glancing at each other, and Beck saw the the smug expression and the little smirks that she's throwing his way.
After finishing their food, Beck cleared his throat when he's still seeing the smug expression. "Are you going to do that all night?"
"Why? You planning on taking me somewhere else after this?" the smirk widened and Beck just furrowed his eyebrow when he wasn't able to give an immediate answer.
"Am I getting under your skin?" the pale woman added, chuckling when the long-haired man didn't say anything.
"Just nothing to add, I guess," he simply replied before gesturing at the passing waiter for the bill, seeing another chuckle from his date on his periphery.
"Really?" Jade asked, arching an eyebrow when he turned to face her again. "Are you sure that you're not just getting uncomfortable because I'm not someone you could easily charm your way into?"
Beck scoffed, and he was almost taken back by the action seeing that he hasn't done that since he's a child. "By saying that, you're assuming that I'm obsessive-compulsive with my politeness, which I'm not."
"Oh really?" Jade grinned, before reaching out a hand to the waiter who approached them.
"The bill?" she demanded, and her expression is enough that the waiter gave it to her without any question.
The long-haired man imperceptibly narrowed his eyes when he saw the pale woman rummaging through her bag and taking out her wallet.
"What are you doing?" he questioned as Jade pulling out a few dollars.
"I'm testing your obsessive-compulsive politeness by paying for the both of us," she answered, counting the money before clipping it inside the leather check-holder. She gestured at the waiter and handed it over, and Beck's finger's unconsciously twitched as the words of his father came to him.
An Oliver is always a gentleman, son, and I expect you to be one.
"Did I break you?" the pale woman quipped, and Beck realized that he's been staring at same spot for a few seconds now without blinking.
He cleared his throat, surprised that he's finding it hard to yet again come up with something to say. "No, I was wondering why you did that when you said earlier that you expect a free dinner."
"Oh, that," she dismissed with a wave of a hand. "It's okay. A man's re-education is a priceless one."
"Re-education?"
"Yes, your re-education to society and how the real world operates," she declared, countering Beck's puzzled expression with a smug smile. She then glanced at her wristwatch and tut-tutted. "And that concludes this date. It's almost my curfew and I need to get back to my dorm."
"Oh. Sure, let's go," Beck agreed, his mind is reeling from the conversation.
This girl is... something, he thought, walking beside her as she whistled loudly at the incoming cab. When it stops, the urge to open the door for her - like how he was taught - automatically came to him, though he suppressed it when he saw how she just opened it all by herself.
The trip is a silent one, except when Jade is giving directions to the cab driver. The trip is not long enough for the silence to be awkward though, and they're finally pulling at Jade's dormitory.
They both got out, but not before the pale woman bending over to talk to the driver about waiting for Beck. She then handed few dollars and Beck willed himself to stay put so as not to offend the girl.
"Here I am," the pale woman declared as they neared the building's entrance.
"You're obviously here," Beck quipped, and the pale woman arched an eyebrow, both surprised and proud.
"Ohhh, sarcasm. You're on a roll, Mr. Oliver," the pale woman drawled, smirking.
"Learning from the best," he shrugged, a lopsided grin forming on his lips.
Jade chuckled. "Before you go, though, I'm gonna give you my diagnosis."
"Wait, so you really are in-"
She loudly shushed him, and he complied. She then drew a big breath and schooled her face in a serious expression.
"I'm afraid to say that you are... not a psychopath," she declared, a mournful expression surfacing on her face as if she's delivering a bad news that involves a life-and-death situation.
"Okay..." he drawled with a chuckle, playing along.
"Because if you are, then you'll probably won't feel anything if I do this," she stated before holding his neck with both her hands and pulling him towards her.
It was quick, soft, and passionate. Beck tasted cherry, a hint of tomato sauce, and something sweet and indiscernible that he wasn't able to identify because the pale woman is already pulling away.
"And that's my diagnosis," she added with a smirk before sauntering away from the slightly stunned man. "Oh, and Beck?"
The long-haired blinked and slightly shook off his surprise before looking at the amused girl's direction.
"I'm actually a junior in NYU majoring in theater arts," she stated with a wink before finally walking away, leaving a puzzled man on her wake.
Beck soaked up the new information, but he remains unmoving still. Only when he heard a couple of obnoxious honking did his limbs finally cooperated with him.
On his journey back to the hotel, Beck recalled the earlier events just like when he was fifteen. He recalled how he saw someone from his past whom he shared a few hours of life, both from his past and his present.
He recalled how the pale woman did give some accurate description on how he presented himself to the world, and he's astonished at how he could seem that transparent to her. He recalled how the pale woman did get under his skin, even though he never admitted it out loud. He recalled how every little thing that the pale woman does is unpredictable, and it messes with his head a little.
He recalled how he internally disagreed on most of the things that she said, except for the kiss.
Because the pale woman is right: unlike when he was fifteen, this kiss made him feel everything.
Beck is twenty-six years old when he finally had his own happily ever after.
It was during spring time, exactly one o'clock. The long-haired man is pacing the floor, nervously wringing his hands.
"Where is he?" he mumbled to himself, pacing faster and wringing his hands faster as he felt the cold sweat that's starting to coat his forehead. Noticing it, he stopped his endless pacing and walked towards the table to get some tissue.
As soon as he finished blotting his forehead, the door slammed open.
"What took you so long?" Beck asked at the breathless man at the door.
"Sorry! But I couldn't find the rings this morning!"
"You lost them?!"
"No, no! Robbie and I found it, don't worry," André reassured, reaching out for the velvet casing in his coat pocket.
The long-haired man visibly exhaled in relief, reaching out for the case with slightly trembling hands. He opened it and stared at the two golden bands that'll serve as a symbol of lifetime commitment.
"C'mon, Oliver. We're gonna be late for your wedding."
"I was waiting for you, you twat," Beck spat, and the dreadlocked man chuckled at the cussing. Ever since that fateful night in New York six years ago, the long-haired boy is starting to loosen up a bit with his over-politeness.
André has Jade to thank for, though he'll just have to wait after the honeymoon.
The journey to the wedding venue is a tensed one, and André's eyeballs is starting to hurt at how many times he has to roll it whenever Beck look at his wristwatch. "The clock is not going to tick any faster, you know."
"I'm ten minutes late at my own wedding."
"Technically, it'll be fifteen minutes when we get there."
"Not helping, Harris."
The dreadlocked man sighed before reaching out to Beck's wrist to stop his fingers' incessant drumming at the leather seat. "Beck?"
"Yes?"
"You're panicking."
"I'm not."
"You are," André insisted.
"I'm not," Beck reiterated.
André tut-tutted. "Are you scared that she'll back away if you're not on time?"
The long-haired man scoffed, an action that's still foreign to André when it comes to his friend. "Of course not. That's absurd."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Beck..."
"André..."
The dreadlocked man sighed again, his expression softening at his agitated friend. "You know that she's not like your mother, right? Six years of being together is the proof of that."
André saw his friend's jaw hardened, and he knew that what he said is still a sensitive topic to Beck. But as his friend, it's his duty to knock some sense into the long-haired man's stubborn head.
"She loves you, you know. No, she's hopelessly in-love with you. I don't understand it myself. I mean, you're a bit boring in my generous opinion," Beck chuckled at that, "but she does."
"And even if you are late for an hour or two, she'll never just walk away. Sure, she might kill you or just maim you for it, but as long as there's a certainty that you'll eventually be there, then it's okay."
"Do you understand what I'm saying?" André finished, looking straight into the wary dark orbs.
"...yeah, I do understand." Beck took a deep breath before exhaling audibly. "I'm sorry, it's just... I never imagined myself marrying someone else."
"My father's-" the long-haired man paused and André nudged him to continue. "My father's first marriage scarred me when I was young. Until now, I still get these moments where I'm doubting everything in me and everyone around me."
"But you're right," Beck said, nodding resolutely. "I'm marrying the woman I love today, and there's nothing to be nervous about."
"Except when she kicks your ass for being late," André quipped, sending the two men laughing, successfully dispersing the tension in the car.
"Yeah, but I'm used to her temper after six years," Beck quipped back as the car slowed down in front of a beautifully decorated garden.
"There you are! You're late!"
"Sorry, Ms. Valentine."
"It's Mrs. Valentine-Vega now, remember?" Cat corrected, her hand on her hip as a beautiful Latina stood behind her.
"Hey, Victoria."
"Hey, Mr. West," the Latina joshed good-heartedly. "The missus is impatiently waiting inside."
"Is he in big trouble?" André asked with a smirk, earning laughter from the married couple.
"Just enough. Now go! Everyone is already in their position," Cat ordered, and the three followed, practically jogging inside the garden.
"You made it!" a bespectacled man exclaimed as soon as he saw them, his dark, curly hair impeccably done and his suit is crisp and elegant.
"Hon, I'm me. Of course we'll make it," André stated before kissing his fiancé's lips.
"I know you're amazing, but you're just panicking this morning," the man joked, his eyes staring adoringly at the dreadlocked man. "So Oliver, you ready?" he then asked the long-haired man beside André.
"As ready as I could be, Shapiro."
"Places, people! We're going to start the ceremony!" Cat's voice was heard, and everyone scrambled into position.
"She's so bossy," André whispered as soon as the two settled at their position near the aisle.
"Would you believe that she used to be shy?" Beck whispered back before the wedding march was heard. The people assigned in the march trickled in, but Beck's eyes are focused on the far end where his future wife is yet to show.
After a lot of impatient craning of his neck (André jabbed him with his elbow a few times to settle him), Jade is finally walking slowly, her gown trailing behind her. Her raven locks is elegantly pinned up, reminiscent of the prom night where she and Beck met for the first time. But instead of the playful smirk of that night, the pale woman is smiling brilliantly.
"You're late," Jade admonished as soon as she came close to Beck.
He shrugged. "And I'm here," he replied simply, smiling widely at the arching of her eyebrow.
"So," she whispered before the pastor start the ceremony, "let's try to get along and not kill each other, shall we?" the blonde said with a smile, and Beck chuckled at parroted words from their prom night.
"Yes, we shall," Beck answered, and the soon-to-be-married couple turned their attention to the pastor to start their wedding ceremony.
The End
Comments, suggestions, criticisms, and even violent reactions are welcome. Go crazy, mate. :)