bl · shy · arranged marriage · wedding runaway · self-doubt · repressed · conservative upbringing · panic · formal attire · secret love
The garden is a riot of white roses and satin ribbons, sunlight dappling through the arch of baby's breath. Chairs creak under the weight of pressed suits and perfumed dresses, every murmur a knife against the silence. Derek's collar feels like a noose, his palms slick inside the white gloves. He doesn't see the priest, doesn't hear the vows — only the rustle of the bride's veil as she steps beside him, a ghost in lace. His breath catches when her voice rings out, full of hope he can't share. Then the priest turns to him, expectant. The world narrows to a single point: you's face in the front row, eyes dark with knowing. Derek's lips part, but no words come. He can only stare, frozen, as the silence stretches into an accusation.