SIMON

"Do you need any water? How about a massage? I personally can't give you the massage, I'm terrible at them, but I can find someone to give you one. Or, um, are you hungry? When was the last time you ate, you wouldn't want to faint up on by the alter. Or how about – "

Penny whips around, styled hair flying around as she grips the back of her chair. "Simon, breathe." Blinking owlishly at her, I inhale, surprised at the instant relief in my chest. Shit, I might be panicking. "Everything is taken care of, I promise."

"Penelope," Agatha taps a makeup brush against Penny's shoulder, "you need to stop fidgeting. If you're not careful, you'll come out more clown than Kate Middleton."

"I said light makeup, Agatha," Penny says, a slight edge to her voice, "just some eyeliner and a little blush, Maybe lip-gloss."

"Of course," Agatha says breezily, winking at me from over a jar of sparkly powder.

"Neither of you is to be trusted," Penny hisses, standing and waving us both away. "I'm going to go find my mother, and I promise that if I see even an ounce of hooker makeup on my face, I'm canceling this entire wedding."

"Empty threats don't bother me," Agatha whispers, falling back against the couch and patting the spot beside me. "So, now that I've got you alone, I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Shoot," I reply, careful not to wrinkle my suit as I sit. I don't know how she did it, but somehow Baz, Agatha, all of Penny's sisters and I match. Lavender dresses for the girls, light grey suits with lavender ties for Baz and I.

I think I especially pull off the look, not to brag.

"What happened between you and Baz?" I shouldn't have been surprised by the question, but I still gawk at her open-mouthed for longer than necessary. "It's just, the last time I saw you two, everything was fine. And then you get your magic back and you weren't talking and now it's so obvious that you two still want to be together, but you aren't."

"How do you know all of that?" I ask, momentarily distracted by my curiosity.

"Penny kept me updated. It was more interesting than studying for my anthropology class."

"Well if you can ask me a question, I guess I can ask you one," I counter, searching for anyway to avoid this conversation. "What ever happened to the fit guy from the coffee shop?"

Agatha blanches, considering her manicure, the same color as her dress, before bringing her thumbnail to her teeth. "Baz told you?"

I shrug. "He thought I'd want to know."

"You know what? You're better off without him." She huffs, folding her arms over her chest.

"I don't know why we aren't together," I admit, resisting the impulse to laugh at the petulant expression on her face. "I was just so annoyed. He kept forcing all these decisions on me, and I wanted him to stop. But I didn't think we would end up anywhere near here."

"And you can't just tell him that you want to be with him?" Agatha asks, messing about with a wisp of hair that won't stay in her bun.

"He doesn't want to hear it," I let my head loll back against the wall, "he wants to be friends."

Agatha's quiet or a moment, her forehead puckering as she frowns. "That guy, from the café. He's one of my best friends at uni, has been for years. His name is Lucas, and I think I might be in love with him." She fumbles around with the bracelet around her wrist, looking at anything but me. "But, I don't say anything. I don't think I ever will, because the last time I thought I was in love with someone, it was you. And I wasn't, not in the proper way anyway. And I'm afraid I don't know how to love, or that after I make some huge declaration of affection and decide later on that I was wrong, it'll blow up in my face again. And I'll lose him, just like I lost you and Penny and even that idiot Baz."

"You didn't lose us," I argue, reaching down to squeeze her arm. She gives me a tight smile, wriggling away from me.

"I did. For a little while at least. This is probably the first proper conversation we've had in eons, about anything serious anyway." She pauses, licking her lips to collect herself. "Look, I may still be figuring out how I feel most of the time, but I do know love when I see it. And I saw it in the way he held your hand, and during your speech, and the way you looked at him after. Neither of you wants to just be friends. The only thing stopping you from being with him is your own stubbornness or fear or whatever other meaningless thing that you're letting keep you from the love of your life."

AGATHA

For a second, I think he'll jump up and go chasing after Baz. And I'll be the best friend in Simon's romantic comedy, the supporting character in Simon's never-ending, constantly catastrophic story. And that he'll finally, finally, see fucking sense. I don't think I'll mind, this one time.

But because nothing in the world can ever change that much, and Simon Snow's still a colossal idiot half the time, he just takes me hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. He doesn't wipe away the tear the drops from his eye down the length of my wrist, and I don't mention it.

"We should probably get out there," he says gruffly. "Ceremony should be starting soon." He gets to his feet and walks towards the door, stopping long enough to let out a shaky sigh, before leaving me behind.

SIMON

The ceremony is just as beautiful as we all thought it would be. Since Penny had more bridesmaids than Micah had groomsmen, I end up walking down the aisle with Agatha. Baz goes down with one of Penny's sisters, and then we stand there and wait. I try to focus on everything, try to take everything in, but Agatha's words play through my head like a skipping record.

Baz isn't on the other side of some ocean, or on the other side of the country even. He's right here, wearing the shit out his suit because it's impossible to him to find a suit he doesn't look good in. And I could take his hand if I wanted to.

I want to.

And I could tell him I still love him.

I do.

And it could be like the last few months never happened. And I've never wished for something so badly in my entire life. Not for my parents, not for my magic, nothing.

Micah cries when Penny walks in. He tries to pass it off as something else for a few seconds, but then thinks better of it and just stands there grinning and crying like his life never mattered until this moment. It makes me tear up, but Penny gives me a look when she hands me the bouquet, and I know that I'm going to have to keep it together until the end of the ceremony at least.

I'm not particularly religious, but the words flow together prettily, and every time I start to get fidgety, I think of what it would be like if it were Baz and me. I would definitely cry, he'd roll his eyes and whisper something to make me laugh. We'd ignore the minister and make faces at one another and I would stumble over my vows. And it would be perfect because it'd be him and me and we'd have finally gotten it right.

"Simon," Agatha pokes me in the side, pulling me from my thoughts, "come on, the wedding's over."

I jerk back, swiveling around to watch as Penny and Micah pull apart, officially husband and wife. Penny turns to me, cheeks wet and quivering with the strength of her smile, holding her hand out for her flowers.

"All right?" Agatha mutters to me as we walk back down the aisle, her arm hooked around mine. I nod mutely, letting her slide into the limo behind Penny before getting in myself. "Really?" She drops her voice even lower when Baz and the rest of the wedding party get in. "Because every time I looked over at you, you were completely zoned out."

"Do you think Penny noticed?" I ask in a panic, feeling like the world's biggest git for missing my best friend's wedding. I couldn't tell you their vows with a gun to my head. Although I'm not sure I could tell anyone much with a gun to my head. I would be too busy pissing my pants.

Agatha nods to where Penny and Micah sit off to the side, kissing. "I don't think they've noticed anything but each other the entire day."

Someone's said something that gets Baz laughing, and the sound fills the entire car, expands into my chest. "I know the feeling."

She doesn't try to talk to me the rest of the way there, and I'm thankful for it. I'm too rattled for conversation, too aware of every move Baz makes. It's my own fault, I guess. Me and my stupid imagination. And his too. Because if I didn't know how he looked in a suit, maybe I wouldn't be able to see him slipping a ring onto my finger and promising to be with me until death do us part.

Actually, it's all his fault. The prat.

We have to do pictures before we can get into the reception. Penny warned me before we left, but I forgot, too distracted with everything going on, and now I'm too antsy and too hungry to keep still.

"But Penny," I whine, letting her usher me between Baz and Agatha without much fuss, "by the time we're finished, they'll have finished all the food."

"There's a McDonald's down the block," she takes me by the shoulder, angling me this way and that way until she's satisfied, "so you should be fine."

I stick my tongue out at her, but she's already moved on, making the gooiest eyes at Micah that I've ever seen. I didn't think she was capable of a look like that, but then again she's Penelope Bunce. I suppose she's capable of just about anything.

"I was promised macaroni and cheese," I pout, even though I can tell she's ignoring me. I try my luck with Agatha, turning to her and jutting out my bottom lip further. "I was promised macaroni and cheese."

"You're a toddler, Simon," she rolls her eyes, taking out a compact and fixing her lipstick. "I'm sure they'll be plenty of food left when we get in. They can't start serving without the bride and groom."

"Yeah, but all the dinner rolls will be gone," I grumble, trying not to shiver. "And the butter." The snow's pushed us inside for pictures, but the massive windows we're standing in front of are doing nothing to keep us warm.

"Cold?" Baz asks, his eyes finding mine for the first time all day.

"Maybe," I shrug. My stomach's doing something strange, and it takes all my efforts to keep it from bouncing out of my throat. "But unless you've brought a space heater with you, I don't think you'll be much help."

He smirks at me, huddling in a little closer and lowering his head. "Lovely ceremony, yeah?" Oh, my stomach is this close to ruining his suit. How exactly do you apologize for projectile vomiting one of your organs onto your ex-boyfriend? I don't think they make cards for that sort of thing. "Bunce looked good."

"Yeah, yeah," I say, clamping my mouth shut before anything else can spill out.

"Happy too," he continues, pushing his hands into his pocket.

I hum, and I'm glad no one can see my tail. It's swishing around like mad, thumping against the back of my legs to the irrational beating of my heart.

"What're you thinking?" He asks, and it comes out so conversationally that I almost answer. And then I look up at him, meet his searching gaze with one of my own, and shrug. "Come on, Snow. You need me to find you a dictionary?"

"Don't be an ass," I growl, and it feels better to be annoyed with him than to be miserably in love with him. Or to be annoyed with him while being miserably in love with him. "You came to talk to me, doesn't mean I have to talk back."

"Right," he sneers.

"Your face is going to get stuck that way someday," I say, smiling when his sneer deepens.

"No need to concern yourself with my face, Snow," he snips back. "Not your job anymore, is it?"

"No, I guess not."

PENELOPE

"The children are fighting," Micah murmurs in my ear, a laugh in his voice and his breath hot against my skin. I nuzzle back into him, and he rubs his hands along my arm when I shiver. The photographer calls for our attention and both Simon and Baz manage to bite their tongues long enough for us to take a group shot or six.

And when they start bickering again, I can't help but laugh. "Let them," I turn into Micah's chest, wishing I'd thought to wash my face so that I could hug him properly. "You're my only concern."

"Today?" He asks, grinning.

"Today and everyday afterwards." I'm supposed to be talking pictures with my bridal party, but it'll take more than an irate photographer to get me out of his arms. "Is that alright with you, Mr. Acevedo?"

"More than all right Mrs. Acevedo," he mumbles against my lips, "it's perfect."

I pull back, holding onto the fluttery feeling in my chest and hoping it never fades. "Mrs. Bunce-Acevedo," I correct him, "Penelope Bunce-Acevedo."

He cocks his head to the side, musing his hair with a thoughtful expression on his face. "It's certainly a mouthful."

"Yes," I nod, "it is. But it's my mouthful and I love it."

"And I love you," he replies automatically, his grin widening. "Now, let's finish these pictures already. Don't tell Simon, but I'm just as hungry as he is."

"Oh thank God, I'm starving too," I giggle. "We don't really need pictures do we? I'll remember this day well enough for all of us."

"Try telling that to my mother," he sets his hands on my waist and turns me. "Now smile and maybe we can get this done before the appetizers go cold." He leans forward, rests his chin on my shoulder. I don't think it'll be too hard to follow his instructions. I couldn't stop smiling even if I wanted to.

BAZ

Simon's distracting. It's not as if he's doing anything in particular to pull my attention, but his preoccupation with whatever it is that had him slack-jawed and glassy-eyed during the ceremony has me curious. For one terrible moment, I think maybe he brought a date with him, but after bickering with him for the half hour it takes to get all the photos taken, it's clear he hasn't. (I don't know I would have done if he had. Maybe kill them? Decorate the hall in their blood and then kiss him in the getaway car.) (I shouldn't brainstorm angry.)

But, I digress. Simon's over at the Bunce's table, his arms waving as he speaks with Penelope's mother, and he's distracting. I don't feel like drinking, there are too many people around for me to eat, and everyone I know is already in the middle of a conversation. It gives me plenty of time to watch him.

I'm so busy focusing on him that I don't notice when someone huffs up to me, a storm of brown hair and pissed-off expressions. They clear their throat noisily, and when I finally tear my eyes from Simon, who's managed to knock a glass of champagne onto Premal's date, I feel them widen.

"Fiona?" I exclaim, standing and going around to the other side of the table where Fiona stands with Mordelia's hand in hers. "What are you doing here?"

Mordy squirms free of Fiona and throws herself at my legs. "Baz!" She cries, and even though ten is far too old for this, I bend down and scoop her up. She squeals, reaching down to make sure her skirt is in it's proper place before twining her arms around my neck. "Auntie Fi told me we've come all the way here to yell at you."

I glance warily around my sister to where Fiona still stands glowering at me. "Have you?"

Mordelia nods, sending a mass of hair careening towards my face. "I think I see some sweets over by the drink table. Get me a cupcake?"

"Chocolate or vanilla?" She asks, letting me set her down and regarding me with a deadly serious look. (You'd think I just asked her the secrets of the universe with the way she's staring me down.)

"Surprise me," she nods once more, turning around and racing through the dance floor. I think she steps on a few feet on the way there, and I can't help but laugh.

"Imagine my surprise," Fiona starts coolly, "when I went to visit my dear nephew, only to find an embarrassment of scantily dressed girls."

I fold my arms over my chest, pursing my lips. "You gave it to me," I remind her. "And I was the one paying all the bills anyway. It was hardly yours anymore."

She shakes her head. "Nuh-uh, Basilton. Back chat's for people who haven't been kidnapped by fucking numpties."

"One time," I snarl, "that happened one time. Are you ever going to let that go?"

"Sure," she sniffs, "once you do something as equally pathetic as get kidnapped by numpties. Oh wait, you have!"

"And what would that be?"

"Moving to another continent without so much as a word to your favorite aunt." She lowers her voice when Mordelia appears at her side, half a cupcake in hand and frosting on her bottom lip. "I had to hear about it from your father, of all people. Oh, and he's livid with how much you've been spending lately."

"New York is an expensive city," I protest, "I'd apologize if he were taking my calls."

"Yes, well, I might have made it so that they never actually go through," she says mildly. "I've been a bit miffed at you if you haven't noticed," she says when she sees the way I scowl at her.

"So you crashed a wedding to yell at me?" I ask incredulously.

"No," she spits, "I crashed a wedding that I should have been invited to –"

"You've spoken all of six words to Penelope since we left Watford – "

She pretends as if I've said nothing. "To find out if this was Snow's doing? Where is my favorite failed Chosen One anyway?" I jump forward before she can turn and catch sight of him. I don't have the energy to explain my breakup from Simon at the moment, especially with Mordelia around. She adores him more than any of the other girls, (possibly because she sees him as a large playmate. Which his is.)

"Simon had nothing to do with the move," I rush to explain, "I was invited to play at Juilliard, and Father and I decided it was too good an opportunity to pass up on."

"So you moved to the fucking states to play the violin?"

Mordelia looks up gleefully. "Yeah Baz, the fucking states?"

"Language," Fiona and I reprimand her at the same time. She stomps her foot, frowning.

"But Auntie Fi said it."

"Auntie Fi should know better," I take the last of her cupcake and drop it on the table, looking up to Fiona with a quirked eyebrow. "Why don't you go say hello to Simon?" Her already bright eyes gleam at the idea. It must be an exciting day for her, first getting to scold both Fiona and me, as well as bother our residential golden idiot.

"Come with me," she takes my hand and gives an insistent tug, "now that you live in the fucking states," she meets my reproachful look with an impatient one of her own, "I'll need to know when you'll be returning so I can plan my birthday party."

"We'll come back whenever you want, Mordy," I flinch at my choice of we, but hope Fiona doesn't notice. She follows close behind us, silently stewing at being brushed off.

"Yes, but this year mum said I could have a birth week, so we'll have to coordinate schedules. I figured it would work when you're both on holiday." She nods sagely.

"Coordinate schedules?" I ask bewilderedly. "And what have you got in your schedule other than go to school and play with dolls?"

"I'm ten, Basilton, not two. I don't play with dolls," she scoffs, tossing up her chin haughtily. "Anyway, I like action figures and romance novels most, in that order."

"You've corrupted my sister," I say to Fiona, glancing over my shoulder at her as we all shuffle forward. Fiona simply shrugs, gliding past us and crossing the few feet still between Simon and us.

"Snow," she calls, pasting a smile on quickly. Simon startles, jumping up quickly and nearly pushing some waiter down. "Long time no see."

"Fiona?" His eyes move past her to where Mordy is still yanking me forward. "Mordelia?" Mordy releases me (I hear her mutter "deadweight" and fear for Fiona's influence on her) and sprints to him. He grins, bending to the ground and laughing as she topples them over. "You're actually happy to see me?"

Mordy props her chin up on his shoulder, squealing as he pushes them both back up onto their feet. "Why in the world wouldn't I be?" He glances over to me quizzically, but in usual Simon fashion, shrugs.

"How's old England doing without me?"

"Nothing's attacked any of us in ages, so I would say okay," Mordy answers, giggling when he buts her chin with his knuckles. "Oh, and we went to the house and I think I felt some of my magic."

His entire face practically glows with the news. "Really?" He asks, more to Fiona than Mordelia. "The hole's are filling up?"

Fiona shakes her head, just enough for only me to see. "Sure," I tap on her arm, too struck by that smile to let her wipe it away. He's moved past sunshine; he's a fucking supernova, exploding with joy and taking me down with him. Aleister on high, never has a black hole been so appealing.

"Father actually mentioned moving back in someday."

"That's great," Simon exclaims, giving Mordelia a celebratory spin. "Isn't it, Mordy?"

She rears her leg back as far as it goes and slams it into Simon's shin, covering her mouth and giggling as he drops her. "This is boring, can I go dance with Penny, Baz?"

"You intend on breaking more bones?"

She scratches the tip of her nose, taking a moment to consider my question. "We'll see what happens when I get out there."

"I suppose I can accept that," I nod, and she skips away from us. "Did you ruin the rest of my siblings too?" I question Fiona, glowering as she rolls her eyes.

"You can't blame me for them," she waves over a waiter, smiling as she grabs for the glass he holds.

"Um, I'm sorry ma'am," he starts, "that's someone else's drink."

She watches him through her eyelashes, taking a long sip and letting out an appreciative moan. "And now it's mine. Thanks." He looks confused as she shoos him away, walking haltingly back to the bar. She whirls back to me, the corner of her mouth twisting into a frown. "I hate scotch." She shoves the glass into my hand. "As I was saying, you can't blame me for your sister's behavior. I'm starting to think the cause may be the Grimm genes and I've had nothing to do with any of those."

"Right," I sigh, scrubbing at the back of my neck, "all I know is that Bella and Mari better bloody not be swearing like that one."

"Bugger off, Basilton. I know how to handle my own nieces."

"Okay," I clap my hands together, "you've done what you set out to do. I feel appropriately admonished. I assume you and Mordy are staying somewhere close by. Why don't you two sod off before she actually manages to maim someone and we meet for lunch tomorrow?"

"Basilton," she clucks, disappointed, "when have you known me to be so easily dispatched? Anyway, I had a two-part mission. The first was a scolding, and the second…" she trails off, twisting to Simon as if just remembering he's there. "You two plan on doing anything like this soon?"

Simon's eyes bulge out, and he begins to choke, thumping his fist to his chest in huge sweeping motions and letting out the largest coughs I've ever seen. It would be hysterical, if not for my own acute humiliation.

I take Fiona's elbow and practically haul her from the room, throwing back a look to Simon that I hope passes for apologetic. (His face turns an interesting shade of red. A part of me wonders what I'd have to privately to get it back. It fits him.)

"Crowley, you would think that no one's ever asked a stable couple what their plans for the future are," she rips her arm from me, wincing theatrically.

"For all that is good and magical, why in the world would you ask that now?" I snarl once we're outside and far enough that no one will notice the way I bare my fangs at her. She's unperturbed by my anger, examining her nail before leveling me with a cool look. "Are there no more vampires in need of your attention?"

"There are plenty," she replies easily, "but only one at present that matters to me. What was all that about inside? You and Snow having trouble?"

"It wouldn't be any of your business if we were," I snap, curling my hands into fists. She cocks out a hip, settling all her weight onto her right leg and staring me down. And even though I tower over her, I can't help but feel like a child in that moment. "Fine, sorry. Things have been a bit complicated, yes."

"Well you better uncomplicate them, fast," she pulls something out of her bag, tossing it to me before I can get a good look at what it is. "I thought you might want to give these to him."

Something tightens in my chest when I open my palm. I don't have to recognize them to know what they are, who they belonged to. "They didn't burn, that night," she says softly because I can't speak. I can't think. I can't breathe. "Your father gave them to me for safe keeping, and we both decided that you may be ready to find them a new home."

My mother was a simple woman. Elegant, graceful, good, but simple. The two wedding bands, one silver and the other a ring of small diamonds, they suited her.

I brush angrily at the tears I hadn't noticed forming. "He wouldn't take these from me even if I offered," I whisper. And it's terrible, because I can see it. Sparkling on his finger while he eats those fucking scones, caught between his teeth as he washes his hands. Pressed to my neck as we kiss, resting against my fingers as we hold one another. Another dream that I'll never have, another cosmic joke thrown in my face because Lord knows the universe has no problem doling those out.

"That sounds a bit more serious than complicated," she murmurs, stepping back when I go to give her back the rings. "No, they're yours now. Do with them what you will. Give them to Snow, pawn them, I don't very well care." She frowns. "Well, maybe don't pawn them. If they haven't gotten any use in the next decade or so I'll pass them along to Mordy."

I can't move with them still resting in my hand, mocking me with the promise of the future I threw away. It's not until Fiona takes them and slips them into my pocket that I finally look up. "Safekeeping," she says, and even with how annoying she is, I love her all the more for the small smile she gives me. "Complicated doesn't last forever, Basilton. And you've always had a way of making complicated work. You may need these yet, and I won't be getting my arse on a plan just to serve as a courier service, not again."

"Yeah," I agree distractedly. Even the weight of them in my pocket feels monumental. "Thanks."

She hums, and this time she takes my arm. "What do I have to do to get some food around here anyway?"

"Have brought a wedding gift," I force the rings from my mind, shove them into the small box that contains everything I can't deal with just yet. "And be in good favor with the bride."

"So I'll starve then?"

She looks so tragic, her bottom lip jutting out piteously, that I can't help my chuckle. "I'll see what I can do."

SIMON

Baz is busy with Fiona and Mordelia the rest of the reception, so I try to keep busy too. But there's only so much of Stacy I can take, and she's too focused on Steph to pay any attention to me anyway. Agatha's fun, but she doesn't want to dance and there isn't much else to do. I even try to do the whole maid of honor thing, but Penny isn't having any of it.

"Do you need me to hold your dress up for you while you pee? Maybe make you a takeaway plate so you don't forget to eat? I tried to watch that movie, you know with the fit guy from Grey's Anatomy? I'm not sure it helped." I pause to take a breath, and Penny covers my mouth with her hand, stopping me.

"First off," she starts, "thank you so much for the lovely offer, but I'll have to go with no. And secondly, never, ever, propose to do anything with me in the bathroom. Ever. Understood?" I nod, poking out my tongue and licking her palm until she yanks back.

"Snakes sake, Simon," she groans, groping around for a cocktail napkin and wiping her hand, "it's my wedding day. Would you mind holding off on the licking until tomorrow."

"No promises."

I'm so bored by the time I see Baz alone that I nearly jump him. Accidentally, of course. "Hey," I say, breathless for some reason. He raises an eyebrow at me, and not for the first time today, I want to kiss every furry inch of it. "Where did Fiona and Mordy head off to?"

"Their hotel." He's got this soft sort of smile dancing across his lips. I'm not even sure he realizes it. I guess he's missed his family more than he's let on. "It was past Mordy's bedtime, even if she would have told you that she wasn't tired at all."

I grin, reaching down to rub at the bruise probably forming on my leg. "Seems she only gets more energy every time I see her."

He hums his agreement, raking his hands through his hair. "We're all going for lunch tomorrow if you'd like to join." He hesitates, but doesn't take it back like I thought he would. "At this point I think Mordy might like you more than she likes me."

"No way," I say. "Nobody could like anyone more than you." He ducks his head, but enough time hasn't passed for him to be able to hide his blush behind his hair. "Um, I also just wanted to say thanks," I add slowly, "for not telling them about us."

He clears his throat, his hand going to pat along his breast pocket. "Don't mention it."

"It's – uh, I just, I liked being a part of your family, even for a little while. I guess I'm not ready to say goodbye to all that just yet."

"You don't have to," he says, the space between his eyebrows creasing. "We should go see Bunce and Micah off," he juts his chin out, "I think they'll be leaving soon."

"Right," I nod, letting him walk forward so that my heart can slow. I can't remember the last time talking to him didn't make me feel as if I'm about to burst. I don't think they'll ever be a time from now on when looking at him doesn't twist my insides into a violent storm.

This love-of-my-life business is tricky. It shouldn't be, should it? It should be simple, as easy as my next breath, as natural as my next laugh. And watching my best friend run towards a carriage, her new husband in tow with the biggest smile I've ever seen, it looks like it is. But Baz and me have never been easy. Painful and bright and wonderful and exhausting and magical, yes. And maybe, in some fucked up world where everything sucks until it doesn't, that's okay.

He sneers as he picks a piece of rice from his hair, his tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth, and it all takes some of the hurt from my chest.

"You're staring," he drawls, and I laugh. And maybe it's just enough that for right now, he doesn't have to think before he laughs right back.

A/N: As promised, here is another chapter for all you lovely, lovely people. Again, thanks so much to everyone who's followed, favorited, and reviewed! We're nearing the end of the road, so I'm gonna try and be more consistent, but please have patience with me if I forget again!