So beautiful, was all that Marco del Rossi could think from the moment he stepped inside the cathedral. White roses were scattered across and hung elegantly from the altar; more dotted the pews and in the fists of anxious, excited-looking bridesmaids. Marco himself was among these beaming women, though he preferred to call himself a "brides man"; and who could argue with that? His freshly pressed and adorned Armani tux provided him with the dapper, sophisticated look of a powerful but gentle businessman, perhaps a Harvard-graduated lawyer, though both assumptions were far from the truth. For three years now, the twenty two-year-old had been studying drama at NYU, something he'd never had dreamed of doing years ago, but was now excelling in it far more than he had anticipated. He'd have to thank Ellie for that, for it was she who had originally put the dream in his head during a project back in high school, though she most likely hadn't realized it. For some the experience may have seemed trivial, but Marco reminded himself to mention it to her after the ceremony.
Speak of the devil - Ellie Nash had finally made her entrance, and the rows and rows of guests rose to have a look. Perhaps speak of the angel was more accurate. How close she looked like one. The young woman's auburn hair was pulled away from her face and into a wispy bun, ringlets framing her pinched-pink cheeks, though an entirely clear view was blocked by her veil. Her white dress sparkled as though it were a diamond shining brightly in the sun, but not blindingly; Marco could not take his eyes, already beginning to well up, off of the bride. His best friend of years; the one person who knew him inside and out, who could read his face like a book, who could complete his sentences in the blink of an eye. He willed the tears with all of his might to not spill down his cheeks as they were threatening to do. As Ellie approached, her eyes flickered over to him, filled with joy and mixed with tears, and Marco offered a bright, encouraging smile. It would do, apparently; she seemed reassured and turned to her soon-to-be husband, a man named Francis Peterson who seemed to be overwhelmed by the beauty of his fiancé. Marco could not disagree, and another smile crossed his face as memories flooded back to him: Ellie seeking his approval of their engagement, and he immediately scooping her into his arms and, of course, uttering a "yes." Francis did, in fact, seem to be a perfect match for Ellie; if Marco could not be the one marrying her, he would definitely be the next best thing.
The priest cleared his throat and began to speak, and Marco watched on in a mixture of fascination and reverence. He had never seen such a thing, never had witnessed a couple more in love than he had at that very moment. They spoke to each other with a kind of tender, affectionate tone Marco could only hope to one day be the receiver of. He was so enthralled that his eyes darted away from the two only once. However, that single time had thrown at him something he had not been ready for. His dark gaze transfixed on a familiar figure about the fourth row back on the bride's side, someone Marco hadn't seen in years. He looked the same but different; more mature but, Marco could infer, still with a slightly immature air to him. As the other man's eyes locked onto his, Marco quickly returned his focus to the bride and groom, though he couldn't completely return to his state of thought. The couple had now shared their vows and been announced husband and wife, officially; as they shared their first kiss as a married couple, Marco's fingers tapped involuntarily against the side of his thigh in a sort of nervous, jittery fashion.
As the cathedral began to empty into the sunny July outside and pictures began to be taken, Marco posed and smiled and laughed with the rest, though his mind was elsewhere. Of course he was ecstatic about his friend's new relationship status, and had already pulled her into a teary, happy hug that may have gone on a tad too long, but the figure he'd seen in the pew would not stray from his vision. He hadn't spotted him since he'd exited the ceremony, and now his eyes scanned the crowd desperately for another glance. Alas, he did not see the man again. As things began wrapping up at the church, Marco quickly plead to God that who he'd seen would turn up at the party.
And he had. Marco had spotted him the second he entered the banquet hall, seated at a table along with someone Marco had also remained close with, and an uncomfortable, fragile looking girl who didn't seem to be over the age of nineteen, her hand clasped firmly in her date's. Marco couldn't help but smile, though he was still as shaky as ever, as he approached when he'd been able to. Typical.
"Craig," Marco nodded towards his roommate, and then to the girl at his side, whose name he couldn't place. He wasn't even entirely positive he'd seen her before. Marco was never able to keep up with Craig's slew of girls nowadays.
"This is Amy," Craig Manning told him, and Marco gave the girl a quick handshake and a "nice-to-meet-you." It wasn't as if he was uninterested; he wasn't. However, the other person, currently blocked from Marco's vision due to his fixed gaze on Craig, was all that he could think about.
But why? he wondered for a moment. Why was it that Marco's stomach was only now in knots, his breathing shorter than usual? When he'd known the other man back in high school, they'd had their rough moments, and their great moments, but had only been and had only remained friends. In fact, the thought of anything more was absolutely ridiculous, and left his train of thought as soon as it had come. But now, it was as if there had been a change in the universe; as if, though hope was almost nonexistent, it was not completely gone. It was still there, in the back of his mind, taunting him, chanting. It's fate. It's fate. It's fate.
Had he gone absolutely insane? There was no way the other person could have given him a second though. He probably hadn't even remembered Marco. But the chanting still echoed as Marco finally swallowed his fear and turned to face the figure. He was almost startled to see the man's expression a kind, soft one, his body relaxed as if he were expecting Marco to finally say hi. And so he finally did. "Spinner."
The man's smile widened, but only slightly. "I go by Gavin now," he stated as he rose from his sitting position to reach out and take Marco's hand. He was almost astonished to as he felt Spinner's - Gavin's - body closing in on his, pulling him into a warm embrace. The hug had seemed to last for decades, but had ended, Marco felt, much too soon. "Spinner's okay, though - he can't seem to grasp even the idea of Gavin." He nodded in Craig's direction, who, at the moment, seemed far more interested in the girl of the week, who was now pulled into Craig's lap. The other two men's eyes locked once again as they shared a secret smile, and Marco felt waves of something close to hysteria rippling through his veins.
"How've you been doing?" Marco questioned. Though that question was normally reserved for uninterested small talk, Marco had asked the question genuinely. Loud, though; the music and noise level had risen, and it was becoming harder and harder to hear.
"Good. Saved up enough cash to enroll in the University of Toronto his fall," Spinner responded. Marco vaguely remembered hearing something about the other man attending community college for a few years; he knew that he hadn't been able to afford anything else, and besides that, hadn't had the grades. The fact that his friend had, it seemed, made it, caused a proud feeling to swell up in Marco's chest.
"That's great." Marco now had to nearly yell above the decibel level within the hall, and glanced quickly at the door. In a way he was afraid to ask the question he was about to; nevertheless, he was feeling more confident than usual that particular day, and swallowed his fear. "Do you want to, like, go outside or something? Talk out there? It's so hard to hear in here."
To Marco's surprise, Spinner had replied with a sharp nod, and before he knew it, the two were edging their way around the crowd, making their way towards the door. Once they had finally escaped the noisy mob, a calming feeling relaxed Marco's muscles as he sunk against the wall. Now that they were able to hear each other, however, he wasn't exactly sure what to say. Where to begin? So much had happened to Marco since the last they'd seen each other, the summer after they'd graduated high school. An uneasy silence hung between them, and now Marco found it hard to even look at Spinner anymore.
Fortunately, Spinner was the first to break the silence, although the words were nothing Marco had thought he would hear. "I'm sorry."
Expeditiously, Marco turned to look at his high school friend. "Sorry?" he repeated in a sort of astonished state. What had Spinner to be sorry about?
"I was an asshole. I gave you all that shit when you first, you know.." Spinner needn't finish the sentence, and apparently he had realized the same. Marco knew what he was talking about.
"Spin," Marco began calmly, almost tenderly. "That was years ago. You don't have to worry about it. Besides, I mean, you were fine after.."
Spinner shook his head abruptly, cutting off Marco's sentence. "I wasn't fine. I was never fine."
The other boy - that's what Marco felt like, a confused, innocent boy - was unsure how to take this. Did this mean Spinner had never actually accepted him, though he had seemed to back then? Had he still not accepted Marco's sexuality? As upset as this would usually make him - after all, gay was not a definitive word for him, not an end-all, be-all - all he could feel now was the need to understand. "W-what do you mean?"
"I mean I wasn't okay because I didn't know what to do," Spinner hurried on, his words beginning to jumble up. "I was so taken aback by who you were because you were what I was so afraid of being. It was like your coming out had made official everything I was scared of." He paused to run the tip of his tongue across his bottom lip, and for a moment Marco wanted nothing more than to brush Spinner's blonde, unruly curls from his eyes and shut him up with a kiss, but the impulse faded once a sort of desperation hit him. Was Spinner saying what he thought he was? "It made me have to deal with being gay. I was gay, I've always been gay, I am gay." He finally fell silent and looked up into Marco's eyes, searching them for something. Of what, Marco knew not. Comfort? Hatred? Or, dare he think it, love?
"You're.. gay." The words swam in and out of Marco's thoughts as he finally uttered them slowly. It was as if something Marco had known all along had finally been confirmed. Spinner was gay. He had always been gay. He had been scared of Marco, because Marco was hiding nothing, and Spinner had always been hiding. After a few more moments of stillness, a tiny smirk appeared in the corners of his mouth. "Well.. Can't say I didn't see it coming."
Marco could immediately sense Spinner's relief. His familiar smile had returned to his features, the sunlight giving him a glowing effect. "Wait, what?" But it was too late. Marco's hands had reached across to run through Spinner's hair affectionately, and Spinner did not protest as Marco leaned in, his face becoming closer and closer, though all either could look at was the other's lips. And when they finally met, the kiss seemed to be the most natural thing in the world to both, something they'd unconsciously been waiting for so long. Now that it had finally happened, they both wondered why it had taken so long.
So beautiful.