Trying my hand at writing in the second-person perspective.


You're dressed in a lilac gown that hugs you in all the wrong places. The ride from the hotel comes to a halt and the driver announces that you've reached your destination. Before stepping out of your uber, you try to pull up the plunging neckline of your dress to no avail, and you wish you didn't accept your younger sister's indecent fashion advice. You hate the way you look; you think your breasts are too exposed, your hips appear exaggeratedly wide and your skin is too pale for this shade of lilac. You wish you were taller, more slender, and had eyes reminiscent of gemstones - not ones that resembled the living dead.

Breathing in deeply, you open the car door and step out onto the paved pathway that ultimately leads to the end of a dream. The cherished dream, that's gotten you through some of the most difficult moments of your life. But you know that your presence isn't required for this dream to come to an end. With or without you, life moves on. Love blooms and you're left in the exact same position you were in ten years ago – heart prodding you to speak, but vocal cords rendering you mute.

The wooden, double doors that are decorated with wreaths made of pink roses, instill dread and remind you that this is reality and not a nightmare your brain created.

The heavy door creaks as you open it. The pews are heavily occupied on both sides of the aisle, and several pairs of eyes turn toward you. You try to ignore the stares, and focus your attention on the usher instead, who is asking for your name. He then directs you to the seats on the right – the area designated for the groom; even though you've known the bride just as long as you've known the man who is about to get married.

Carefully and slowly, you walk down the aisle. You don't want to add further injury to your already broken ego by tripping and causing a scene.

You try not to remember how many times you've dreamed of this day, except instead of wearing lilac, you wore white. But luck is not on your side; it never has been.

You hear your name being called; it brings you out of your mind and into the present moment. You hurry forward, to the sound of the voice.

Shino stands so you can take the seat next to him; allowing you a spot between him and your other friend, Kiba. They tell you that you look beautiful. You murmur thanks and return the compliment. Shino squeezes your palms placatingly, but it does little to quell the pain eating away at your insides.

Kiba complains about how hot the inside of this old church is. Before you can reply, the murmurs of the guests quiet at the sight of the priest taking his position at the front of the altar. The groom then steps out from a side door; your heart stills and you forget how to breathe. Your mind registers that the best man and the groomsmen have taken their place accordingly, but your eyes never leave the groom's countenance.

He looks exactly how you envisioned this moment in your mind. His usually unruly blonde hair is neatly styled in a side-part. His navy-blue suit molds his sculpted physique.

Despite your current misery, you can't help but smile when you notice the orange bow tie around his neck. Some things never change.

The bridesmaids begin their walk down the aisle, then the wedding march begins, signaling the entrance of the bride. All eyes turn towards the entrance of the church, but yours remain glued to the only man you've ever loved.

The crowd gasps and whispers fly in the air about how beautiful the bride is; this doesn't surprise you nor does it divert your attention.

When the bride stands on the left side of the altar, the groom's gaze softens and even from this distance, you can see the affection in his eyes. The bride smiles and returns his gaze, but then you notice her glancing away, discreetly scanning the crowd – as if searching for someone. You try not to put too much thought into this because you want the groom to be happy, even if you aren't. You want him to receive the love he's fought forever to secure.

You barely register the rest of the proceedings. You completely tune out the wedding vows; there is only so much your weak heart can take. Both Kiba and Shino squeeze your palms during these speeches, the feeling grounds you and you know with their support, you'll survive this.

After the happy couple and bridal party have exited the building, you wonder if anyone will notice your absence if you forgo the reception.

Nearing the exit, you're ready to say your goodbyes to your two friends when Kiba circles his hand around your waist and loudly declares, "Time to get fucked up on free alcohol."

You cringe at his crassness and the volume of his voice, but you smile politely and nod in forced agreement. It's not going to be easy to get out of this.

Kiba lets go of this hold around you and walks ahead with Shino to greet a group of former classmates. You slower your pace as you have no desire to join the group converging on the church steps.

Suddenly you feel as though you're being watched. Your torso slightly turns to the right. You notice a man standing in the far corner of the church. Your pale orbs meet an apprehensive pair of dark eyes. You return his stare for a couple of seconds before you shyly turn away and hurry toward the door.

But during the moments when your eyes locked with his, you, unfortunately, could not answer his inaudible question, "Why would you subject yourself to this?"


This plot is basically is a condensation of popular tropes and plots, but with an extra serving of messy.

Big shout out to my lovely friend, xpastelberriesx, who took the time to beta read this story.