Chapter Text
“Dude, you didn’t RSVP to the wedding,” Nikandros said over the phone.
“I’m your best man,” Damen replied, flipping through channels on the muted TV. “I didn’t think I had to.”
“Okay, yes, fair point, but Jord and I do need to know if you’re bringing anyone. Please, god, tell me you’re bringing someone.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
“There’s not a single goddamn person on the planet you would consider? Because if there’s even one, bring them.”
“Why?” Damen asked.
There was a long silence and then Nikandros sighed. Damen knew that sigh. Cursing, he sat up and ran a hand through his hair. “Laurent’s coming,” he said, not even bothering to phrase it as a question.
“He and Jord are friends.”
“Right, yeah, of course.”
“He’s bringing someone.”
“Of course he is,” Damen said absentmindedly, trying not to break into hysterical laughter. Anything to hurt Damen. That was his new favorite thing to do, after all. For the past two years, whenever they found themselves at the same event, Laurent brought a date and took great pains to either ignore Damen or pretend what they’d had for a little less than six months was simply a small blip in his life. Maybe it had been. But it sure as hell hadn’t been for Damen.
“It’s just kind of pathetic. I hate seeing him rub your nose in it. Why can’t you fight back and throw some of your own punches?”
“You know why.”
“You’ve never been the type to roll over. Why can’t you…”
“Because it’s him,” Damen interrupted.
“Do I need to remind you how long it’s been?” Nikandros asked.
“No,” Damen groaned. “You know perfectly well I’ve tried, Nik.”
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
“Say what?”
“Bring her.”
“No. I can’t bring Jokaste. I can’t. Laurent will literally try and murder me. Is that what you want? For your wedding to be the scene of a homicide? Because that is what you will get if I bring Jokaste.”
“Good. The more adventure, the better.”
“Nik…”
“Call her. Or I will.”
“She’s like a quarter of the reason we broke up. I don’t want to hurt him.”
“Why?” Nikandros practically shouted, making Damen flinch. “All he does is hurt you. That is literally all he does, Damen. It’s awful and he really shouldn’t be able to get away with it.”
“You hurt him, then.”
“You’re the only one who really can. We both know that.”
“That lies under the assumption that he still cares about me at all.”
Nikandros groaned. “Okay, I did not call to talk to you about this. I don’t give a shit what you do or don’t do about Laurent, but bring Jokaste.”
“Didn’t you invite her?”
“Course, but she doesn’t have a date either.”
“Fine,” Damen sighed. “But if I die, it’s your fault. I expect a moving elegy.”
“You got it.”
Hanging up the phone, Damen closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the couch cushion, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. It was always like this when he found out Laurent was going to be in the same place as he was for any period of time. He knew that up until the wedding, he would be in a constant state of worry and stress. For the most part, nothing ever happened anyway, but Damen always imagined that something would. Sometimes, his imagination left him with images of wringing Laurent’s neck and sometimes it left him with images of them making out against a wall. Both were terrifying and unacceptable in their own way.
But the worst part about this feeling was how it always reminded Damen just how hung up on Laurent he still was. It wasn’t like he sat around the house and moped, but he’d tried dating and nothing had stuck. There was one girl, for three months, who’d held his attention, but when he’d tried to imagine any sort of future with her, all he’d been able to think about was Laurent and how much he still loved him and how unfair it was for everyone involved.
Deciding that action was better than this, Damen dialed Jokaste’s number. The wedding was in two days, after all, and even though he suspected either Jord or Nikandros had already talked to her about it, he didn’t want to ask and discover she already had someone to attend with. Because even though it would make Laurent angry, she was good company and he would need good company. No matter whose wedding, they always tended to remind Damen that his life wasn’t on the road he’d always intended it to be on. He was turning twenty-nine in a month, he was running his father’s company, and he was nowhere close to achieving the family he wanted.
“Damen,” Jokaste said, abruptly pulling him from his thoughts.
“Hi. How are you?”
“Better than you, by the sounds of it.”
“Laurent’s attending the wedding.”
“I’ve heard. I’ve also heard I’m going with you.”
“That would be great,” Damen sighed.
“You know I will. On one condition.”
“No. You can’t get into it with Laurent.”
“Please,” she whined. “He’s fucked you up beyond belief. I’m tired of watching him show up at parties and treating you like a bug on the ground. He was in love with you, for fuck’s sake. He must know it’s the last thing you deserve.”
“We’ve been over this,” Damen said. “And everyone needs to remember that Laurent is my problem and my problem alone. Besides,” Damen murmured, “I deserve everything he’s done to me.”
“You never did tell me what happened.”
“I don’t like talking about it. Or thinking about it, for that matter.”
“Well, I don’t care what happened. Nothing I can feasibly see you doing would deserve the abominable way he’s treated you for the past two years. Can I at least call him an asshat and pour my drink over his head?”
Sighing, Damen didn’t grace that with a response. “I’ll pick you up at four,” he said instead and then hung up. Once upon a time, Laurent and Jokaste had been friends. He hadn’t meant to fuck that up.
There was one last thing he had to do before he could spend the rest of the day at the gym in an attempt to distract himself. This time, he texted, knowing Nicaise wouldn’t take a phone call.
D: Please let him know I’m bringing Jokaste. However you can
N: Sure. I’ll just subtly drop that into conversation
D: I just think he should be prepared
N: Yeah yeah. I’ll figure something out
D: Busy?
N: Not really
D: Wanna come over tonight and play video games or something?
N: Yeah sure. Eight?
D: Sure
Setting his phone down, Damen got up from the couch, wandered down the long hall towards the foyer and then walked up the stairs to his room. For years, he’d been thinking about selling the place. It was huge and he was all alone. He certainly didn’t need all this space. But it was hard, giving up his parent’s place, and if he made that big of a change, he would make an even bigger one and leave Oregon altogether. But that was hard to do, leaving his friends…leaving Laurent.
He knew how ridiculous it sounded, but they saw each other often enough that Damen hoped someday it would all turn around, that an opportunity would arise, and they’d be able to talk civilly, hash out everything they’d done wrong, and repair the damage.
What was wrong with him?
Grabbing a pair of shorts from his closet, he flung his sweatpants on the floor, and put them on. Taking two socks that didn’t match from the drawer, he pulled them on, followed by a pair of shoes, which he double-knotted.
Then, thankfully, he was out of the house and jogging towards the gym housed at the local tennis center. He didn’t even play tennis, but it was the closest place and the fees weren’t too exorbitant. Thoughts of Laurent flowed out of his body with each slap of his feet on the pavement and eventually, the only thing that mattered was controlling the pace of his breathing.
After a long shower, dinner, and an episode of Peaky Blinders, Nicaise showed up at the door, holding a bag of cookies in one hand. Damen shot him a strange look and Nicaise shrugged. “Laurent was in a baking mood last night, for some reason. We have so many, so I thought I’d bring you some.”
“Thanks,” Damen replied, shutting the door and following Nicaise into the living room. Not even bothering to ask, Nicaise turned on the Playstation and grabbed two controllers. It was a testament to how often they’d done this.
It was the one secret they both had from everyone. And the only rule was that Damen couldn’t ask questions about Laurent, because Nicaise didn’t want to end up in the middle.
That was fine with Damen because their relationship actually had nothing to do with Laurent. They both genuinely loved each other and that was all there was to it. Neither one of them had been willing to lose their friendship when things between him and Laurent had ended.
It helped he could drive now. Their meetings had been a lot harder to conduct when that hadn’t been the case.
“Are you coming to the wedding?” Damen asked as the shooter game of the night loaded.
“Yeah. Nik said I could come and get wasted. That’s a direct quote.”
“Sounds like him.”
“I’m going to pretend we don’t talk anymore, you know.”
“Yeah, I know,” Damen sighed.
“I hate it.”
“Me too, kid.”
There was a long silence, except for the sounds coming from the TV as they started shooting. Then Nicaise whispered, “Are you sure you two can’t be friends? It would make all of this so much easier. I hate lying to him. Mostly because I know he knows that I am and I think it hurts him.”
Damen snorted indelicately. “He hates me.”
“I wish I knew if that was true. You’re the one thing he won’t talk to me about.”
“This is veering into dangerous territory.”
“Yeah, sorry, I’m just fucking tired.”
“Long day at school?”
“Yep. I’m pretty sure I bombed my history test. I guess that’s what happens when you don’t do any of the reading, but I really fucking hate homework. It’s so goddamn pointless.”
“I remember feeling like that.”
“Hand me a cookie?”
“Sure, if you cover me.”
“I’ve got it under control.”
Damen set the controller on his lap and grabbed the ziploc bag, opening it, and pulling two cookies out. He handed one to Nicaise, who was very clearly trying not to laugh. Glancing around towards the TV, Damen saw that his character was dead. “Did you shoot me again?” Damen said.
“I don’t know why you ever think I’m actually going to cover you.”
“I’m grotesquely optimistic.”
Nicaise laughed and accepted the cookie, munching down. It wasn’t long before he was dead, too, and then they sat there eating cookies together until half the bag was gone and they were laughing while reminiscing about old games they’d played and old betrayals Nicaise had handed out. Not once had Damen betrayed him, to no one’s surprise.
They didn’t return to the game. Instead, Nicaise asked how the bookshop was doing, turning and leaning his head against the couch, tucking his feet underneath his legs.
“Alright. We still end up in the green, somehow. I don’t know how much longer I can do it, though. I never wanted to work in a bookshop, you know. It’s been long enough now since my parents died that I don’t necessarily feel the need to do it just to keep their memory alive.”
“Don’t close it,” Nicaise whispered.
“Why?”
“Because I love it there. So does Laurent.”
“Funny, he never stops by anymore.”
Nicaise rolled his eyes and said, “Well, if you do decide to, let me know. Laurent might be willing to buy it from you.”
“Nicaise…”
“Just tell me, okay?”
“Alright.”
Then, with a sigh, Nicaise got up and gathered his things. They didn’t need to exchange words. Damen knew he had to leave. He walked Nicaise to the door and the silence still reigned. It was often how their nights ended, Laurent being a hard topic to avoid when they were together, because for awhile, he was the only thing that had bonded them. And Laurent always made them quiet.
“Bye, Nicaise. I’ll see you in two days.”
“Yes you will.”
Waking up on the day of the wedding, Damen texted Nikandros luck, and then laid in bed reading the news and scanning his Facebook absentmindedly. It was all he could manage currently, entirely unprepared to see Laurent today. It was going to emotionally drain him. He already felt a small toll just thinking about it.
Only when Nikandros texted him back an hour later, sending a picture of himself in his tux, did Damen get out of bed. This day wasn’t about him. It was about Nikandros and Jord and he should be there for them.
D: Want anything?
N: Coffee would be good. And a muffin. And an oxygen tank
D: I can get you the first two
N: Good enough
D: I’ll be there soon
N: Thank god. I’m going out of my mind
D: Seen Jord yet?
N: No. The bastard won’t let me. Says it’s traditional. We’re not fucking heterosexual weirdos though
Laughing, Damen got dressed, pocketed his phone, grabbed his keys, and drove to a local coffee shop that was known for its pastries. Getting two muffins in case he was hungry later—he was decidedly not hungry now—and two cups of black coffee, he then drove out to an old estate on the outskirts of Portland, one often rented out for weddings.
Parking in a gravel parking lot a few hundred feet from the building, Damen got out and walked around the side, seeing a collection of well-dressed people setting up tents and an aisle and chairs. It already looked tasteful and Damen smiled, walking through open double doors in the back and wandering halls and poking his head into rooms, until he found Jord in one of them.
“Hey,” Jord said, when he saw him. “Looking for Nik?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s two rooms down.”
“Does he know that?”
Jord laughed and shook his head. “Don’t tell him or there’ll be nothing I can do to keep him away.”
“I won’t. How are you doing?”
“Just fine. I’ve got my own reinforcements on the way.” Then Jord glanced down at his hands for just a second and Damen knew. He wished his friends didn’t have to be like this around him.
“Laurent.”
Jord nodded. “I’ve ordered him to be civil today. It’s my day, so I think he will. If that’s any consolation.”
“Yeah.”
Biting his lip, Jord was about to say something, but then he thought better of it. “Tell Nik to stop worrying.”
Damen laughed. “How’d you know?”
“I know him.”
Nodding, Damen left and walked two doors down, knocked perfunctorily, and then strolled in. He found Nikandros in his tux, pacing back and forth, wringing his hands. When he saw Damen, he rushed over and pulled him into a hug, practically knocking the coffee and muffins out of Damen’s hands. “What are you so worried about?” Damen said, laughing softly, as Nikandros clutched him tightly.
“I don’t know,” Nikandros murmured. “I don’t know. He’s it, I know that, but I can’t keep thinking about all the marriages that end in divorce. What if that happens to us? I literally don’t think I would survive that.”
“It’s not going to happen to you. He told you to stop worrying, by the way.”
“You’ve seen him?”
“Yes.”
“How’d he look?”
Removing himself from the hug, Damen smiled. “He looked good. And happy. And calm.”
“Oh good, I’m glad he’s good,” Nikandros murmured, taking the coffee and muffins from Damen’s hands and sitting on the ground so he could eat it. There was a couch a few feet away, but Damen wasn’t going to say anything. Instead, he sat on the ground with Nikandros and watched as Nikandros picked at the muffin, consuming it in the smallest bites possible. He was making a mess, crumbs falling everywhere, including on his tux. When the first muffin was done, he started on Damen’s. “What if marriage is just wrong for us? What if it fucks everything up? What if there’s like some weird, magical bullshit in the institution that automatically ruins good things?”
“Dude, chill. It’s just a piece of paper that gets you a tax break.”
“I can’t be chill. I love him too much to be chill.”
“I know.”
“Oh don’t do that.”
“What?” Damen asked, confused.
“Pull the this-could-be-Laurent-and-I-face.”
“But it’s my favorite one.”
Nikandros stared at him and he sighed. “Sorry. I don’t actually think that anymore, you know. He’s been very clear about how he feels.”
“Good. Can I have your coffee, too?”
“Sure,” Damen said, handing it over. “So what can I do to distract you from your unnecessary anxiety?”
“Can I show up drunk to my own wedding?”
“I don’t recommend it.”
“Damn.”
“You know,” Damen said casually, “I know they have a golf cart on sight for these sorts of things, so they can drag you off somewhere and take pictures in a scenic location. We could steal it and go for a joy ride.”
“God, you’re the best friend in existence.”
Grinning, Damen stood and helped Nikandros up. They hurried out of the room and back out onto the porch in the back, scanning their surroundings for any sight of a golf cart. Damen was about to suggest they look to the left, where most of the workers seemed to be congregating to form new groups for new tasks, when Nikandros stopped walking abruptly. Crashing into him, Damen was about to ask what was going on, when he saw Laurent at the bottom of the steps leading to the porch. Damen’s heart stuttered and he took most of his self control to give a cursory glance before continuing down the steps, pulling Nikandros with him. It was going to be a long day.
“Damen, Nikandros,” Laurent said curtly, giving them a stiff nod.
“Yeah, hi,” Nikandros said quickly, watching Damen intently.
“Hi,” Damen whispered, most of his self control disappearing in a wave of Laurent’s all-too-familiar cologne. He looked fabulous, as always. He even had sunglasses on top of his head, holding back his bangs, freeing all the elegant curves and angles of his face. It was entirely unfair.
The blue eyes considered him briefly and then Laurent was gone, bounding up the steps. Closing his eyes, Damen took a few deep breaths and only surfaced when Nikandros touched his arm and murmured, “Okay?” with genuine concern.
“Sure,” Damen said.
“At least he didn’t ignore you?”
“That is something.”
“Let’s go find that golf cart,” Nikandros said, tugging Damen along.
They found it in use by some of the staff, but when Nikandros explained how much they needed it and offered twenty dollars for a half hour, the staff handed it over. Damen had been intending to do the driving, but he was in a mild daze, wondering how the fuck he was going to make it through a whole day with the possibility of running into Laurent at any turn, so Nikandros drove.
He drove like a maniac, stopping and starting at weird times, accelerating as quickly as the golf cart could, taking turns too fast, until Damen snapped out of his mood and smiled happily, feeling the wind in his hair. After that, Nikandros went at a more reasonable pace, driving down the grassy hills, until they found a pond at the edge of the property, a massive oak tree shadowing half of it. They got out of the golf cart and sat below it, tossing pebbles into the pond.
“Remember when I met Jord?” Nikandros asked.
“Yeah. It was at that terrible party. He was the only one dancing, if I remember correctly.”
Nikandros laughed and nodded. “He was so goddamn hammered.”
“I met Laurent at that party.”
“Fuck,” Nikandros whispered. “I forgot.”
“It’s okay.”
“The asshole was reading, wasn’t he?”
“Yeah. He didn’t want to be there. Didn’t entirely want to talk to me, either.”
“What is it about him, Damen?” Nikandros asked. “It was six months. A good six months, but…you dated Jokaste an entire year and you got over her much quicker. You’ve never told me. There’s a lot you haven’t told me, actually.”
“That’s because I don’t know. I don’t know what’s different about him, I don’t know where we stand, I don’t even really know why we broke up. I made such a mess. We both did.”
“You can leave after the ceremony, you know. It won’t bug me.”
Damen shook his head. “It’s not any different from all the other times I’ve been in the same room with him. If this was the first time, I might take you up on that, but it’s not. I’m not going to ruin your wedding just because I’m a head case who can’t get over his ex-boyfriend of two years.”
“It does sound lame when you say it like that.”
“That’s because it is lame.”
Nikandros laughed softly, tossing yet another pebble into the pond. It made a loud smack when it hit the water and they both watched the ripples extend to the outer rims and then slowly fade, before Nikandros stood and said, “We should probably take the cart back. I think they actually need it.”
“Yeah. I need to go put my tux on and pick up Jokaste, anyway.”
So they drove back, taking a longer way back because they were admittedly kind of lost, and then Damen said, “I’ll see you at the end of the aisle,” before driving back home, getting dressed, and then driving to Jokaste’s, a small apartment in the heart of Portland.
When he buzzed, she said she was coming down. He waited on the street until she appeared, looking like a vision in a low cut purple dress that swelled at the waist, ending mid calf. There were even delicate purple flowers along the hem.
She hugged him tightly and then climbed into the car. Damen followed suit. “You look amazing,” he said as he started the car.
“Thank you. How are you doing?”
“Alright.”
“That’s such a lie,” Jokaste tutted. “You look like you’re about to throw up. It’s almost as bad as the first time.”
“I actually threw up the first time.”
“Someday, you’re going to let me hurt him for what he’s done to you.”
“No, I won’t.”
“I live in hope.”
Damen smiled faintly and started driving back to the estate. The sun was shining down on them, warming the car, and Damen said, “They got so lucky. It’s such a nice day.”
“They really did. I was really hoping it would rain just so they would know how idiotic it is to have a spring wedding in Oregon.”
“I can’t believe they’re getting married.”
“I know,” Jokaste said. “It’s totally crazy. Sometimes, I feel like we’re all still kids playing at being adults. But they’re really doing it.”
“Think they’ll have kids?”
“I don’t even want to think about that.”
“Yeah, me neither, honestly. I’d have to take care of them all the time.”
“Oh, please,” Jokaste said, “You’d love it. It’s me we should be worrying about.” She shuddered dramatically and it made Damen smile. Clearly, that had been what she was aiming for because she smiled back fondly. “It’s going to be okay, Damen. I’ll make sure it is.”
“Thanks.”
By the time they arrived, other people were arriving too. Since Damen was a part of the wedding, he was expected to be in the house, waiting for the signal to walk down the aisle, probably side by side with Laurent, who was Jord’s best man. He was fervently trying to avoid thinking about that. Jokaste, on the other hand, was not part of the ceremony, so they split off, Jokaste squeezing his arm slightly before she did.
When he entered the house, he found Jord just inside the doors, his tie being fixed by Laurent, whose attention was fixed on his task, face calm, but serious. However, they both turned their heads when he walked in and for a lack of something to say, he blurted, “Where’s Nik?” much too loudly.
“Over in the sitting room there,” Jord pointed.
Nodding, Damen bolted. Thankfully, Nikandros had managed to stay put, fiddling with his own tie and jacket in the mirror. “Want help?” Damen asked.
“No. I’ve got it.”
“Ready?” Damen asked.
Nikandros turned and Damen grinned, noticing that he looked infinitely calmer, a light smile constantly on the verge of making an appearance. “Very ready,” he declared. “Oh god, so ready. Does he still look perfect?”
“Of course.”
“I’m, like, thirty minutes away from having a husband.”
“I know.”
“Just in time for dinner.”
“It’s almost like you planned it that way,” Damen said.
“Almost like,” Nikandros grinned. “They better have cooked the damn steak to perfection.”
“Want me to go make sure they do it right?”
“No. Please stay with me. I might dissolve into a puddle at any moment. My mental state kind of wavers back and forth.”
He was about to reply when the wedding planner, a young, businesslike woman in a pencil skirt, hurried in and declared Damen was next to walk down the aisle. Nodding, Damen turned to Nikandros, grasped his hands in his quickly, and said, “Get your fucking man, brother.”
“I love you.”
“Love you, too.” Then Damen took a deep breath and followed the wedding planner out of the room. She directed him to the open doors, where Laurent was already standing, his head high and back straight. Feeling as though he was walking willingly into hell, Damen moved to stand beside him. Swallowing hard, he was very conscious of Laurent’s body tensing, an obvious sign he was uncomfortable. Neither of them said a word.
“Go,” the wedding planner said and they started walking, side by side. There was light classical music in the background and Damen bit his lip to stop himself from saying something stupid. Saying anything at all would be stupid.
To his surprise, Laurent spoke. “Our friends are getting married.”
“They are.” It wasn’t a great response, but his brain had stopped functioning. It was impressive he’d managed anything, in all honesty.
“Strange, isn’t it? After all this time.”
“Yeah,” Damen whispered, sneaking a glance at Laurent. He wasn’t looking at Damen, but there was something in the corner of his mouth that Damen recognized. It had been present the morning after they’d had sex the first time, when Damen had admitted he loved Laurent, when they’d talked about the future in a tumble of blankets and limbs. It was wistfulness, remembrance, a step before the realization that he was happy. That was something he hadn’t seen in years. Something that, obviously, Laurent had no intention of him seeing, because it was gone in a flash, leaving Damen to wonder if it had even happened in the first place.
Laurent didn’t speak again and Damen sure as hell wasn’t going to try and continue the conversation. They were basically to the end of the aisle anyway. When they finally did reach it, they parted ways, standing on either side of a flowered archway.
The procession continued after them and before long, Jord was walking out, alone and beaming. The smile he gave was directed at both him and Laurent and Damen felt a flash of regret. How had they ended up here of all places?
He sneaked another glance at Laurent, who was still resolutely facing forward. Of course he was. He had impeccable self control. There was no way Damen was going to catch him staring. That, of course, assumed Laurent wanted to stare at him in the first place, and that was not actually an assumption Damen could make.
It really was almost as bad as the first time he’d seen Laurent after the break up. It was probably the atmosphere of the wedding. Every other time had been casual and not surrounded by notions of love and unity.
Knowing he had to find something else to think about, Damen caught Jokaste’s eyes. She smiled reassuringly and mouthed: Okay?
He shook his head imperceptibly. She nodded and it was enough to fill Damen with a measure of relief. Jokaste would take care of him.
And then, at the end of the aisle, Nikandros appeared. Jord’s back was resolutely towards him, but Damen caught him whisper to Laurent, “He isn’t about to run for the hills, is he?”
“No,” Laurent replied in a low murmur. “Not at all.”
Damen had to agree. In all honesty, Nikandros looked as though he were about to cry from how happy he was. Catching Damen’s eye, he grinned widely, a tear definitely running down his face. That was a bet lost against Nicaise. Unable to help himself, he let his eyes wander the seated crowd until he found Nicaise in the middle of the left side. It was immediately apparent Nicaise saw, because he stuck out his tongue briefly. Damen tried not to laugh.
“Hey,” Nikandros said breathlessly, when he arrived. “So that was the longest fucking walk of my life.”
Jord snorted and then both of them were laughing, almost uncontrollably. Before it got that far, Damen grasped Nikandros’ bicep hard, cutting off the laughter. “Ow,” Nikandros whined.
Before Damen could say sorry or explain, the officiant began to talk, speaking to why they were gathered together today and who she was marrying. It wasn’t long before she was asking them to say their vows. Damen was endlessly grateful that the ceremony was much more informal than most. It wouldn’t take long at all. Unless, of course, Nikandros got carried away in his vows.
They turned to each other and Jord spoke first. “Do you remember that time we got coffee at one in the morning and then stayed up until seven writing the screenplay for a TV show that you were certain was going to be the next Game of Thrones?”
Nikandros nodded.
“That’s when I knew I had to spend the rest of my life with you. Nik, you’re funny, loyal, idiotic and dramatic and I wouldn’t have it any either way, because no one else on this planet could actually get me to drink caffeine at one in the morning. I love you. And I will love you for the rest of my life.”
Laughing, tears falling faster, Nikandros managed to choke out, “Well, fuck, yours were actually good.”
Jord laughed and wiped away tears with the pad of his thumb. For a few seconds, Nikandros collected himself and then said, “Not even a few hours ago, I was inside that huge-ass house and I was panicking, because marriage freaks me the fuck out. But my best friend stole a golf cart with me and took me to the edge of a pond where we talked about the first time you and I met. And I realized two things while we talked. One, I was still attracted to you, even when you were the only drunk, dancing person at a lame party, which tells me that you must be someone special. And two, this outcome doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. In fact, I bet you if you traveled back in time and told the me who just met you that you and I were married in the future, I would just nod and say, ‘Yeah, I bet we are.’ I love you, too, Jord. So goddamn much. Forever.”
There was cheering and whooping, the officiant said a few more words, and then she declared them husband and husband, wording Jord had specifically asked for. Their lips met and applause was added to the cheering, Damen doing his own fair share.
Before Jord and Nikandros were swept away and the party started with gusto, Nikandros turned to Damen and said, “Oh my god, I can’t believe I ended my vows with forever. I’m a fucking sap.”
“You cried, dude. I think that’s worse.”
“Jesus, I did, didn’t I?”
Jord appeared at their side and started pulling on Nikandros’ hand. “We’ve got things to do, husband. Damen isn’t going anywhere.”
“True,” Damen said, watching as they were swallowed by the crowd steadily moving towards the tents set up a couple hundred feet away where tables were set and ready for dinner. When he looked around, searching for Jokaste, his eyes landed on Laurent, who was still standing on the other side of the archway, watching the proceedings with impenetrable eyes.
In a moment of bravery, Damen said, “A nice ceremony, wasn’t it?”
Laurent’s head turned slowly and Damen realized too late that he’d been far away, somewhere deep in his brain. “Sorry,” Damen said in a rush, “I didn’t realize you were thinking. I know you hate being interrupted.”
“It was a lovely ceremony,” Laurent said. Then, abruptly, he walked away and Damen sighed. Apparently they weren’t making progress at all. Go figure.
Suddenly, Jokaste was at his side and she said, “Let’s go get drunk.”
“Yes please.”
And god did he get drunk. He managed to make it through his best man speech just fine, but by the time the party was in full swing, loud music pounding in his ears and dancing couples filling his vision, he’d come to the realization that he was, in fact, quite drunk. Jokaste was seated at a table with him, a lot less drunk than him, her eyes scanning the crowd. In a quiet voice, she asked, “Is that Nicaise over there?”
Squinting slightly, Damen nodded lazily. “Yep, that’s him. I wish he’d come say hi. I wish I could go say hi. I’ve got some money to pay him, after all.”
“Wait,” Jokaste said, “You guys talk?”
“Every fucking day, pretty much. More often than I talk to you, actually. We’re pretty good friends. Nothing like Nikandros and I, of course, but, you know, I would do anything for him.”
“Why didn’t I know about this?”
“Because it’s a secret. If Laurent found out, he’d probably start, like, throwing things or something. Whatever he does when he gets angry. You know, when other people aren’t around. Cause when other people are around he just gets all silent and taciturn and weird. It’s so awful, to be honest. How are you supposed to talk to someone when they won’t even talk back to you just because you’re, like, fighting or whatever? You know what he’s even better at? Pretending there wasn’t a fight at all the next day. It’s really fabulous.”
Jokaste laid her hand against Damen’s cheek and said, “You need to stop talking about Laurent. Why don’t you sit here while I go and get you some water?”
“I can sit.”
“Perfect,” she said, standing and heading for the open bar. Damen’s eyes wandered, inevitably landing on the one person they always landed on. Laurent wasn’t dancing. Instead he was standing on the edge of the mass of people, holding a drink in his hand, and talking to a delicately demure man, who was almost certainly his date. Damen could tell from the cursory glances and the finger tracing the rim of his glass that Laurent was entirely uninterested in him, begging the question why Laurent even brought him in the first place. Briefly, pettily, Damen wondered if Laurent even knew his name.
He was considering standing and perhaps doing something stupid, when Jokaste returned with a glass of water in hand. “Drink,” she ordered, setting the glass on the table. Doing as he was asked, Damen kept watching Laurent. Kept watching as the lowering sun peeked through the side of the tent, hitting one of Jokaste’s bracelets and catching the eye of Laurent’s date. Kept watching as the date’s eyes glimmered with recognition. Kept watching as he wandered over, dragging Laurent with him, Laurent’s face growing more and more closed the closer they got, until suddenly they were there, standing in front of Damen’s table.
“Jokaste?” the man asked.
It took Jokaste a moment, but then she said, “Elliot! Hi. How are you? It’s been a long time.”
“That it has.” Turning to Laurent, Elliot said, “Jokaste was in a couple of my art classes in college. She had a talent for watercolor. Do you still paint?”
She nodded and they began a conversation about the old college days and Damen took another big gulp of water, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. And dizzy. God, was he dizzy.
“Just how drunk are you?” Laurent asked, looking at him.
“What do you care?”
Laurent shrugged. “Just wanted to gauge how much second hand embarrassment I have to look forward to.”
“I was going to guess something like that. Actually, my guess was more along the lines of ‘Ooh, how easily can I get Damen to feel like shit about himself and his life?’ If you must know, you’ve already done an excellent job. You always do.”
He must’ve been talking loudly, because Elliot stopped talking to Jokaste and said, “Do you two know each other?”
Damen nodded and raised his water glass in Elliot’s direction. “I bet he didn’t tell you his ex was going to be here. That’s not necessary information for a man he’s just using as a prop. Why is it you always have one at this sort of party, Laurent? Enlighten us.”
“Damen…” Jokaste murmured.
Damen waved her off. “No, you know what, I don’t want you to stop me. I realize I’m being awful, but there’s a strong chance I won’t even remember, so I’m just going to say what I want to say, because goddammit, all of you are right.” Meeting Laurent’s eyes easily, more easily than he had in a long time, Damen said, “Fuck you, Laurent. Fuck you for treating me like I’m half of a person for the past two years, as though we weren’t ever in love. Fuck you for that first goddamn party where you brought that guy three weeks after we’d broken up and made out with him for a solid fifteen minutes where everyone could see. Fuck you for not even giving me a chance to explain myself. Fuck you for that little curl of your mouth as we walked down that goddamn aisle just now. Fuck you for not turning into an ugly old hag.”
“Hag is a typically gendered term,” Laurent said lightly. “And not one used in reference to men.”
Rolling his eyes, Damen shook his head. “Ah, my favorite tactic, the diversion.”
“Shall we dance?” Laurent said to Elliot, face calm and voice smooth. Elliot, incredibly shocked, nodded absentmindedly and let Laurent take his hand and lead him away.
Still angry, Damen shouted after his retreating figure, “And fuck you for dancing with him when you would never dance with me.”
“Oh, Damen,” Jokaste sighed. “What did that help?”
“Made me fucking feel better,” he grumbled, drinking more of the water.
“Did it?”
“I don’t know,” Damen said, already coming down from his high as the dizziness settled back in. Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes and focused on quelling the slight nausea. Jokaste tipped the glass against his lips and he swallowed what she offered, some of the water dribbling out of his mouth.
“You should really apologize to him.”
“When has he ever apologized for a goddamn thing he’s said to me.”
“Yes, but you’d want to apologize. If you were sober.”
“Then I will when I’m sober,” Damen replied.
“I didn’t think you were this drunk,” Jokaste murmured. “I hate it when I miscalculate.”
That almost set Damen off again, being referred to as a variable, something Laurent had done countless times when they’d fought, so he stood with a wobble and stumbled out of the tented area to a tree a couple hundred feet away. Settling down, he leaned against the side of the trunk that kept him facing away from the party and watched the last of the sun set below the horizon. As the light faded, he felt realizations hit and he groaned, letting his head fall into his hands. Had he really called Elliot a prop?
“Jesus christ,” he mumbled to himself, “I need this to end.”
“And what exactly would ‘this’ be?” a familiar voice asked him.
Not even bothering to look up, Damen said flatly, “I thought you were dancing.”
“It doesn’t suit me.”
“I could’ve told you that.”
“You were rather rude to my date. I had to pull him away somehow.”
Groaning, Damen finally looked up to see Laurent standing over him, his blue eyes dark in the twilight. “Would you please just leave me to be drunk in peace?”
“I’d like you to apologize to him.”
“I bet you would.”
“He is under the impression he’s a prop.”
“It’s not a wrong impression. I do have eyes, you know.”
“Are you really not going to apologize to him?” Laurent asked, a modicum of curiosity seeping into his voice.
“Of course I am,” Damen said. “I simply wanted to point out that you don’t actually care whether I do or not. You’re just here to humiliate me. Which is why I would like you to leave me the fuck alone.”
“You didn’t answer my first question.”
“Nope.”
“That was quite the blow-up you had,” Laurent said, as though he were relaying a fact.
Exhaling loudly, Damen asked, “If you don’t leave, I will say things that I regret and I’m really tired of saying things to you that I regret.”
“Ah, but I’m curious what those things are.”
“Are you? How nice for you.”
“That’s childish.”
“How many times do I need to ask you to leave?”
“At least one more time.”
Running his hands through his hair, Damen stood, feeling close to throwing up for a second, before he stomped away. Sadly, he was much less coordinated than Laurent at the moment and the speed at which he could walk was considerably less. It took hardly any effort for Laurent to catch up and block his forward progress with his body. “What is your deal?” Damen groaned.
“What needs to end?” Laurent asked calmly. But there was something unhinged in his eyes.
“This!” Damen shouted nonsensically. “You! The rather irritating fact that I can’t get the fuck over you.”
“It’s been two years.” There was something in his voice and if Damen was sober, he would’ve been able to pick out what the emotion was, but for the life of him, he couldn’t right now.
“Really? I had no idea.”
“That’s pathetic.”
“Laurent, I swear to god, if you do not get out of my way, I will punch you. And it will hurt,” Damen said, trying to ignore the sting in his chest from Laurent’s words. Despite his words, Damen wasn’t the one causing pain here.
“I do believe you broke up with me,” Laurent said with the same uninterested tone. It was really starting to piss Damen off. Again.
“No, I didn’t. I left your fucking apartment because I was angry and I couldn’t have a reasonable conversation with you and then the next day, I got a text from Nicaise that asked why we had broken up. You went and made assumptions, overthinking every little detail, just like you always do. And then, you went and assumed that your assumptions were correct because you’re always right. God forbid Laurent deVere is ever wrong.”
“You do realize you could’ve said something.”
“Oh, could I have? Really? I want you to think long and hard about that, because I don’t think I could’ve.” Then, realizing much too late that he was hashing out his break up with Laurent while he was drunk, Damen murmured, “What the fuck am I doing?”
“Amusing me.”
“Fabulous. That’s just fabulous. Go back to your date and I’ll go back to mine.”
“Jokaste. Have you two started fucking again?”
“Yep, totally. That’s why I’m out here with you.” Then, because he was drunk and because he wanted to do some hurting in return, Damen tacked on, “Do you want to know something really amusing? Nicaise and I hang out on a regular basis. And he didn’t want you to know because he was scared you would take it as a betrayal. Your own fucking nephew was scared of you.” Then, without another word, he shoved past Laurent and back to his table where Jokaste was sitting with two glasses of water in front of her. She said nothing, just handed him one of the glasses.
Drinking large gulps, Damen said, “So I fucked up.”
“I figured.”
“Not going to berate me?”
Jokaste shook her head, a sly smile on her lips. “No. I think you did exactly what you needed to do. Let’s just make sure you remember.”