Sebastian's smile is softer than Alex remembers.
He's standing under the old willow by the lake, hair tousled just the way it used to fall across his face in the summer, black suit neat but a little crumpled like he'd tried too hard not to care. The farmer's hand is in his, delicate and sure, and she's looking at him like he hung the moon.
Alex watches from the back. Uninvited. Unnoticed. Just another face in the crowd, tucked behind distant cousins and overgrown rose bushes. His fingers are buried in the pockets of a jacket he outgrew years ago.
He tells himself it doesn't matter.
(He lies a lot.)
Sebastian's laugh cuts across the breeze, and Alex flinches like it's a bullet.
Because once—long ago—that laugh had been his to ruin. He remembers every time he made Sebastian grit his teeth, bite back a retort, look away like Alex was something sharp he didn't want to touch.
God, he was such an asshole.
But what else was he supposed to be?
His dad told him boys don't cry. His coaches told him to "man up." His friends said faggot like it was a punchline. And Sebastian, with his eyeliner and his silence and his midnight walks—Sebastian was everything Alex wasn't allowed to want.
So he pushed.
He mocked.
He hated.
But mostly… mostly, he watched.
And now he watches Sebastian promise forever to someone else.
They're saying vows now. The farmer's voice is soft, steady. Like she was made for this—being honest, being kind, being loved. She doesn't fumble. She doesn't look nervous.
Sebastian's eyes never leave hers.
Alex swallows hard, fists clenched inside his pockets. The same hands that once pushed Sebastian against a locker. The same hands that clapped his back too hard during community center cleanups. The same hands that—once—reached out behind the saloon, drunk on summer heat and confusion, only to pull back before they could touch anything real.
He wanted to be brave. He wanted to say something.
But he never did.
So instead, he said nothing. Again. Just like always.
[-]
[Flashback - Age 15]
Sebastian was sitting under the bleachers again, hoodie pulled low over his face, knees drawn to his chest. He always sat there during lunch, earbuds jammed in, scribbling something into that beat-up notebook he carried around like it was his heart.
Alex found him by accident the first time. The second time was on purpose.
"Hey Emo," he called out, voice too loud, too smug, too practiced. "Writing your vampire poetry again?"
Sebastian didn't look up. Didn't answer.
Alex's stomach twisted. He hated that—being ignored. Being invisible.
He walked over, kicked at Sebastian's boot. "You're gonna get real popular if you keep sulking under here like a troll, y'know."
This time, Sebastian looked up. His eyes were sharp—too sharp. "Why do you care?"
"I don't," Alex snapped too fast. Too sharp.
But that was a lie. Because he did care. Too much. He cared that Sebastian looked through him like he was nothing. That Sebastian didn't laugh at his jokes, didn't care about football, didn't play the game of trying to be liked.
Alex hated that.
Or maybe he just hated how it made him feel.
[-]
[Flashback - Spring, Year 1]
Alex kept his jacket zipped up tight when he moved in with George and Evelyn. Not because of the cold. Just because he was always bracing for something.
He told himself it was a fresh start. That things would be different. But the shadows still followed him. His dad's fists. His mom's quiet sobs through the walls. The way everything smelled like beer and bleach. And then nothing at all.
When his mom died, there wasn't much left to hold onto. Just echoes. And his father's voice, stuck in his skull like a splinter:
"Be a man."
"Stop crying."
"You better chase girls before they chase you, or you're a freak."
[-]
So of course he chased Haley.
She was blonde. Confident. Pretty. She turned heads. She cared about lip gloss and shoes and photoshoots and appearances. She was the kind of girl his dad would've nodded at and said, "That's what I'm talkin' about."
Penny was too quiet. Too sad. Alex felt like he could break her just by raising his voice.
Leah? Too wild. Too barefoot-in-the-grass, paint-on-her-elbows kind of wild.
Maru was smart in a way that made Alex feel stupid.
Emily scared him. Like, deeply. She offered him a crystal once and asked about his aura. He ran.
Abigail was… cool. Like, way too cool. Purple hair, skull cavern energy, big goth energy. He didn't know what to do with that.
But Haley? Haley made sense.
She was what he thought he wanted.
Until he realized he was always looking at someone else.
[-]
[Flashback – Late Fall, Year 2]
Dating Haley was supposed to feel different.
She was everything he'd been taught to want. Gorgeous, confident, fashionable. She knew how to pose for photos, how to flirt like it was an art form. Kissing her was nice—soft and sweet and practiced. Sex was fine. Not bad. Not awkward.
But it never made him feel full.
Alex always thought that part would come naturally—the click, the magic, the certainty. But every time he kissed her, all he could think was, this is right, right? This is how it's supposed to be?
And then nothing. Just silence inside himself.
That night, he walked her to her porch like he always did. She leaned in with a smirk and kissed him like they were in a movie. He kissed back like he was reading from a script. And when she slipped inside and the door closed, he stood there for a long time, trying to remember what happiness was supposed to feel like.
He turned toward home, hands in his pockets, head bowed against the wind.
That's when he saw them.
Sebastian stepping out of the saloon, his leather jacket catching the dim lights, flanked by Abigail and Sam. His head was tilted back, laughing at something Sam said. For a second, Alex forgot how to breathe.
He could've just kept walking.
Instead, he hesitated.
Sebastian spotted him.
His smile died instantly. His whole body tensed.
Alex opened his mouth—maybe to say hey, maybe to say sorry, maybe to say I was a dick for years because I didn't know what to do with the way I felt when you looked at me—but all that came out was, "Didn't think you liked crowds."
Sebastian's expression hardened. "Didn't think you cared."
Abigail gave him a sharp glance. Sam, gentle as always, just sighed. "Come on, Alex. Just… let him be."
Alex stood there as they walked past him, laughter fading, boots scuffing against stone.
He hated himself again.
Because deep down, he didn't want to fight.
He just wanted to understand why the only person who ever made him feel anything could never look at him without flinching.
[-]
[Flashback – Spring, Year 3]
He met her in front of Pierre's, sun high and warm, her boots caked in dirt and her hair in a messy braid. She smiled when she said hello. Like she didn't know anything about him. Like she wasn't already carrying whispers from Penny or Maru or whoever else had warned her he was cocky or shallow or loud.
She just smiled.
"Alex, right?"
He nodded, flashing his go-to grin. "The one and only."
She laughed. Not a giggle. Not a swoon. Just a simple, honest laugh. "Nice to meet you. What do you do? I mean—what do you want to do?"
The question threw him for a second.
He recovered fast. "Pro athlete," he said, like he always did. "Training every day."
She didn't blink. Just nodded, thoughtful. "Hope your dreams come true."
No teasing. No eye-roll. No flirt.
Just hope.
That night, Alex sat on the edge of his bed in the tiny room he barely fit inside, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars he stuck on the ceiling when he first moved in.
He thought about her voice. The way she'd said it. Like he was allowed to have dreams. Like he was allowed to want something real.
And for one sharp second, he thought about what he really wanted.
It wasn't a stadium full of screaming fans.
It wasn't Haley's kiss, or a trophy, or another bench press record.
It was quieter than that.
It was Sebastian—head bowed over his keyboard, eyes glowing in the dark, talking about nothing and everything.
Alex shut his eyes.
He never talked to the farmer again if he could help it.
[-]
[Flashback – Early Summer, Year 3]
It was too hot to think. The kind of sticky summer night where even the stars felt drunk.
They were behind the saloon—Alex, Sebastian, and Sam. Sam had wandered back inside to flirt with Emily or score another round, and that left the two of them leaning against the brick wall, half-silent, half-swaying. A beer bottle sweating in Alex's hand. A cigarette burning down in Sebastian's fingers.
Alex wasn't sure how they got to talking. They never really talked, not without claws. But somehow, somewhere between "your eyeliner looks like shit" and "you've got half a brain, jock," it stopped sounding like a fight.
There was a pause.
Sebastian turned toward him. His eyes were hazy, too-soft in the dark. His hand lifted—slow, unsure—like he might brush Alex's shoulder, or maybe his cheek. He got close.
Too close.
Alex's breath hitched.
Sebastian flinched like he'd been caught stealing.
He dropped his hand.
Flicked his cigarette away.
Said something cold. Or sharp. Or nothing at all.
And just like that, it was over.
Later, Alex would replay that second over and over—wondering what would've happened if he'd reached back. If he hadn't frozen. If he hadn't grown up in a world where softness between boys was a punchline.
He told himself it didn't mean anything.
But it did.
God, it did.
[-]
[Flashback - Late Summer, Year 3]
It was summer. That in-between time where the evenings stretch long and golden, and everything feels too full of meaning.
Alex found them at the saloon patio. The farmer was laughing at something, and Sebastian had this look on his face—soft and open and completely unguarded. It knocked the wind out of him.
He didn't even realize he was staring until Sebastian got up and walked over.
"You've got a problem, man?" Sebastian's voice was tight. Guarded. His shoulders drawn like he was ready to throw a punch.
Alex blinked. "What?"
"You've been staring at her like you're planning something." His jaw was clenched. "Just… back off, okay?"
Alex stared at him.
Her?
He hadn't even noticed what she was wearing.
He wasn't watching her laugh. He was watching Sebastian smile. Watching him lean into the sunlight instead of his own shadow. Watching how the farmer's presence softened all his sharp edges.
"I wasn't—" Alex started, then stopped. What was he even going to say? 'I wasn't staring at your girlfriend. I was staring at you.'
"Whatever," Sebastian muttered. "Just don't start anything."
And then he was gone.
Alex stood there for a long time. Chest tight. Heart aching. Words dying on his tongue.
He didn't even know what he wanted to say.
[-]
[Present - Wedding Day]
The crowd laughs softly at something Sebastian says. The farmer smiles. Sunlight filters through the willow leaves like gold-dusted memory.
And Alex stands there, still as a ghost.
Cheers erupt as Sebastian leans in to kiss her.
A clean, warm kiss. Nothing flashy. Nothing showy.
But when he pulls back, he's smiling.
Really smiling.
Alex turns away before anyone can see his face. His hands are shaking. His stomach's gone hollow.
He tells himself it's fine. That it was never going to be him.
That it shouldn't have been him.
But the lie tastes bitter now. Like old whiskey and unsaid things.
Because the truth is—
He loved him the whole time.
And he hated himself for it.