The screams of the living.
What a curdling, piercing sound it was. The cracking cries of the cacophonous screams that fled the throats of the terrified mortals that had the misfortune of being out and about at this late hour.
The screams woke even more, who escaped into the streets in a flurry, shaking in terror at the desperate yelps. Their panicking only lead them to the source of the townspeople's fears, unfortunate as it was. Horrid, rushing zombies, spilling out into the dark town in a bustling hoard. Descending upon them like a plague, with cries of glee mixing into the blood-curdling screams.
Forgetting their senses, some townsfolk rushed away in their nightclothes, or dropping all they held, while others repurposed whatever was within their reach into weapons.
The undead wedding party was quickly running apart, corpses dodging umbrellas, canes, and books so as not to have their fragile skulls crushed. Their leaders threw out their arms, desperately trying to yell for peace. Arthur was the first to throw himself forward, out of the violent cluster, screaming at the top of his rotting lungs for peace. As he stood, frustrated, a young blond child broke free from his mother's hold, toddling over as quickly as he could to the decaying Magic-man.
The child's bravery, drawing so close and defenseless to the undead horror, tore a shrill call from his mother and immediately snatched the attention of everyone who saw. Arthur was even slightly alarmed, eyeing the child with confused wonder. But a second longer, and his wonder was gone. A large smile drew across his face, reaching out to the small one.
"Grandpa!" The child chirped, throwing up his arms to reach out to the so-presumed monster.
"Alfred!" Arthur laughed, scooping up the 5-year-old into his arms, hugging his grandson with glee. Alfred's mother raced over, joining the unconventional family reunion with wild eyes and a racing heart.
The scene seemed to make the crowd stop, and actually look to see just who it was they were fighting off. For a moment, a pure silence settled over the throng; voices stuck in throats, tears welled in eyes, a sniffle, and a broken sob.
A great, upheaving roar threw silence to the wind. The people cried for their loved ones, returned from the abyss, and wept for the soaring joy that suddenly filled their hearts. The wedding reunion was halted for a good long while; the cake and decorations and goal almost entirely forgotten.
Matt stood in the middle of it all, imagining his fathers running up to him with relief shimmering in their eyes and holding him in their arms – similar to when he was a child who had wandered off to far during play.
But his father's weren't here; none of his family was. It was just him, all alone, standing in the middle of it all.
As he stared out over the congregation of people, bustling and dancing and laughing, he felt Akbar take his hand. Entwining their fingers together, the most handsome corpse he'd ever met was staring at him with glossy blue eyes full of gentle joy. "This is all possible because of you," Akbar whispered. "You've done something wonderful, Matt."
Matt laughed, quietly, and shook his head. "Nah, I didn't plan this. I just- I'm just here to get married."
Cold, stiff lips brushed his warm, ruddy, cheek – a loving, but frozen kiss that only a dead man could give. "I look to forward to that."
It felt as though a very long time had passed before the gathering paid their attention once more to the couple that had brought the dead here. The two stood in the center of the street, holding hands, waiting and watching as gingerly, everyone turned to them.
Matt lifted his hand, pointing to the other side of town. A grin crossed his fact. "That way to the chapel."
A cheer ripped through the crowd, and towards the chapel they fled.
oOo
The chapel was small and oddly grim for a wedding venue. The walls were gray, like clouds on a rainy day, and the pews were stiff and black like mourners. The roof was slouched, almost caving in, and weak windows beat like drums in the wind.
But it was good enough.
The crowd, now tripled in size with the living additions, pushed and squeezed into the chapel with great anticipation, bouncing and clapping and tittering with excitement. A reunion, a wedding, a beautiful night to celebrate it all! The stars shining above to wish the new couple luck, a gorgeous cake, perfection.
Without a parent present to guide them from the looming doors, Matt and Akbar linked arms and stood together. A rickety corpse fell into the seat of the crooked old pipe-organ and began to play a tilting tune unlike any they'd ever heard before. Akbar, cold and decaying and beautiful, stood at his side with a glint of ecstasy in his eyes and an upward curve on his lips. His skeletal arm fit awkwardly against his breathing chest, but Matt pulled his attention away. He smiled at Akbar and as the pianist stroke the beginning of the next chord, he lead them down the aisle together.
Two gilded goblets sat on the altar at the end of the path, filled with red wine and one with deadly poison. Matt swallowed his own breath, his heart pounding, his veins jittering with fear.
He chose to do this. He knew he wanted to. He really, really did. For his own adventure, for Akbar, for a chance at a love like he'd never had before. But it was so reckless, so terrifying, and so morbid.
He, Matthew James Williams, was scared to die.
It was too late to turn back. Too late to ask if this was really a good idea. He was standing at the altar, clutching Akbar's bony hands in his own warm, fleshy ones. He was warmth, light, and life, and he was marrying a cold, collapsing figure of death.
A cold, collapsing figure of death that he found himself bizarrely, inexplicably attached to.
Their vows recited together, in unison, echoing through the hollow but filled chapel with a resounding song that resonated in their very hearts. Both the still and the beating.
"With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.
Your cup will never be empty, for I shall be your wine."
Together, they separated their left hands and gently held their goblets, raising them to meet in the center.
"With this candle, I will light your way through the darkness.
With this ring-"
A harsh crash cracked open the doors, sending them flying, slamming them into the fragile walls. A howling, crying wind blew into the chapel, begging them to flee the dangers that had appeared. The darkness crept in – spindling claws grabbing at anything it could touch. And in the unearthly glow of the moon, a seething shadow.
A voice rang louder than the wind, louder than their fear. An Italian accent soaked in venom, coating every scathing word.
"What a horrific little wedding we have here."
A/N: pphhhhhhhbbbbbbbbbbtttttttttttttttt. It's been a long, long wait, my readers. I hope this was worth your anticipation! The chapter title is directed more towards how long it took me to update than the actual characters waiting to get married :V idk mate, but I'm gonna try to finish this story in the next few weeks so I can get it off my back. My main hope here is that my writing has seriously improved since the early chapters!