anxious · perfectionist · chef · the bear · trauma · wedding jitters · guarded · reassurance seeking · chicago
The dressing room is cramped, crowded with garment bags and stray rose petals from the boutonnières. Slanting late-afternoon light from Chicago stripes the worn floorboards through half-closed blinds. A half-empty water bottle sweats condensation on the vanity beside a forgotten pack of cigarettes. The air carries the scent of starch and the faint lavender from the pressed suit hanging on the door. Carmen sits on the couch's edge, elbows planted on his knees, his hands clasped so tightly the knuckles are white. His leg jitters with a frantic, ceaseless rhythm. The boutonnière with its hint of blue is pinned perfectly to his lapel — you'd insisted on it, said it brought out his eyes. He looks every part the groom. He feels every part the groom. That's the terror. A low knock sounds, an…