Chapter Text
It’s just nerves. She tells herself. It has to be.
Looking in the mirror in front of her at the silky white dress, Ava observes how it hangs off her body, and the simple veil that drips down her shoulders.The pit that’s been growing in her stomach since early that morning had steadily grown from a tiny, insignificant pebble into a black hole, swallowing all good things and making them taste like cardboard in her mouth. She’d been convinced that it was just excitement when she woke up but now as the day wore on, she wasn’t so sure.
………………
She’d woken up that morning and was all but dragged out of bed and thrown from one thing into the next without even a second to catch her breath. Her bridesmaids had burst into her room squealing up a storm and somehow had the energy at 7 AM to act even more excited about the whole thing than she was. Through it all, Ava couldn’t help but feel like she was just a doll thrown to the mercy of prepubescent school girls in a game of dress up. The pampering, prodding, and overall hovering had made it hard to start the day with a good attitude. But Chanel, being the saving grace that she was, had pulled her aside outside of her apartment in a moment of rare seclusion.
“Are you okay?” She’d asked, the slightest hint of worry evident on her face. It had always eluded Ava how Chanel seemed to look so put together and fresh-faced, even after a long night of partying. It was still true now, with her eyebrows and eye shadow expertly painted on.
How does she do that?
Silence filled the corridor as she waited expectantly for Ava to answer the question. And she didn’t look like she was in the mood to give her a full-faced make-up tutorial in the meantime. Ava just needed something to focus on.
“I’m fine,” she said dismissively, hoping that Chanel would take the hint and drop it. But she just stared harder, not at all playing into Ava’s nonchalance. It was enough to make even the most war-hardened criminal shit their pants.
“It’s just nerves. It’s fine,” she conceded after a long pause. Which was annoying because that was another thing about Chanel; she always had a way of getting the truth out of her.
“Well you were looking a little pale in there. What with the girls talking about spending the rest of your life with someone and all,” she said conspiratorially. Almost like she was privy to something that Ava wasn’t. Of course it wouldn’t have surprised her even if she did because Chanel always seemed to know something about everything. Whether you wanted her to or not was a different story. And frankly, Ava really wasn’t in the mood to be dealing with this shit.
“Yeah, it is actually,” she bit back. Maybe a little too harshly, but she was allowed some leniency. “JC’s my best friend and I can’t wait to spend my life with him. He’s good to me and he loves me, which is all anyone can ask for really.”
Even as she said it, Ava could hear how defensive she sounded. It was almost like she was trying to convince herself. But it was the truth wasn’t it? What more could anyone ask for?
Chanel seemed unsatisfied with that, and the tension palpably thickened in the air. Leaving them at a strange impasse. She looked like she was contemplating on something she should say, or whether or not to divulge a long-held secret. But as she opened her mouth to say something, they were interrupted as an ear-splitting scream erupted from the closed door to the apartment.
Lilith poked her head out unceremoniously and said,”Roxanne burnt her hair on the curling iron.” Both women took that as their cue and rushed back into the apartment, with whatever Chanel was about to say soon forgotten in the face of Roxie’s cosmetic emergency.
……………...
Replaying that scene from earlier in her mind, Ava couldn’t help but wonder what it was that Chanel was about to say before they were interrupted. It ate away at her a little bit if she was being entirely honest with herself. But now, standing alone in the backroom of a church, there wasn’t enough time or room in her thoughts to dwell on something that wasn’t said.
Finally given a moment of reprieve from the hustle of the day, Ava refocused her gaze on herself in the mirror. Taking a moment to let it all sink in. She looks more than feels the part of a young woman ready to walk down the aisle, and feels a little ashamed that that’s all the emotion she can dredge up. This should be the greatest day of her life! The immaculately planned flowers, the stunning dress, the good food, and all the people she loves in one room? She’s marrying her best friend for God’s sake. So why is she feeling so nervous? With a shaky breath, she steadies her gaze back at herself and tries to practice her breathing exercises.
It’s a method she’s been using since she was a kid. She’d have night terrors in the early hours of the morning, with only the quiet of her room and the soft breaths of Diego to keep her sane. Sometimes she’d still have them, but she never told anyone save her mother.
Even JC would lie asleep next to her as she struggled to gain her bearings again from a particularly bad episode. For as long as she’s known him, she’d never told him about the night terrors. How she’d wake up in dampened sheets, unable to move her limbs, and be thrown right back into a body that wasn’t hers. It’s not a burden she wants him to bear along with everything else. It would just tack on another reason to the ever-growing list of reasons why she didn’t belong.
Being paralyzed from the neck down until she was 17 was already a strong start. Her mother had all but cured her paralysis, but it still came with extra work. Extra care in making sure she didn’t push herself too far or work too hard. And though he’s always been careful, there are days where she can trace just a hint of resentment in his actions. He’d always deny it, but she could see it there in his eyes. That this isn’t the life that he saw himself living.
Ava shakes her head to clear the thoughts from her brain. Today is not the day for doubt. she tells herself. You can do this.
There’s no mistakes to be found in her ensemble, but still she checks again and rakes across every square inch of her visage for any imperfection. Every fold of the dress, every drape of the veil, and artful stroke of makeup. She’s certainly come a far way from that girl trapped in a bed at St. Michael’s. She never thought she’d be able to hold a pen, let alone walk down the aisle on her wedding day.
You can do this, she repeats.
She gives a quick nod of satisfaction before turning abruptly and opening the door to the dressing room, possibly with a little more force than necessary. Outside of her little bubble is chaos. Everything becomes louder, everything smells stronger, and it takes everything in her self control to not turn on her heel and march back into the safety of the back room. It could be considered controlled chaos, if you’re even able to call it that. Everyone’s bustling about, chatting loudly, and making merry as she stands in the middle of a long hallway, unsure of whether she should take her place at the back of the chapel or retreat silently to the quiet of the room. People she doesn’t even know stare at her as they make their way to their seats and she wishes more than anything that she could see a familiar face.
All of her bridesmaids had left her for a moment of peace as they went to line up with the groomsmen and now, she kind of wishes that one of them had stayed behind. They’d all made a quick exit almost as soon as they’d arrived. Too excited by the prospect of the ceremony and the proceedings to linger for too long. But that’s because it’s a good day. A day to celebrate the union of two people who love each other. So why shouldn’t they?
“Ava!” She’s yanked out of her spiraling thoughts and whips her head in a one-eighty, searching for the person who called her name. Upon seeing a tall, intimidating figure rush towards her down the hall, Ava just smiles and chides herself when she recognizes Lilith. Of course Lilith wouldn’t have left her behind. She’d always deny that they were best friends. Even if you actually cornered and asked her, she’d never dignify such a sentiment.
However, it was the long nights with Lilith holding her hair back and the death glares she’d given JC when they’d first met that told Ava that Lilith held that title proudly. It didn’t mean she’d ever admit it though.
“You’re gonna miss your entrance if you don’t hurry. Jillian’s already waiting for you,” she says with a surprising amount of urgency. Who knew that someone who acted like they were listening to nails on a chalkboard all the time would actually be the most invested person in the bridal party? Go figure.
“Yeah yeah I was just on my way,” Ava replies, hoping her voice doesn’t shake as much as she thinks it does.
“Okay good, come on.”
And with no provocation or any amount of convincing, Lilith grabs Ava’s hand and walks with her to the back of the church. On a normal day, it would take at least half an hour and a few low-level threats for Lilith to even consider physical contact. Let alone initiate it herself. But today’s not a normal day is it?
“We don’t have time for your ‘fashionably late’ habits,” Lilith utters with exasperation.
And Ava can’t help but give her what she hopes is a confident shit-eating grin.
“I’m the bride Lilly. They can’t start without me.”
Lilith only shakes her head and continues to pull her along to the back of the chapel.
“Well we don’t want to find out do we?” She says as she gives her a pointed side-eye.
Ava decides to leave it at that, not wanting to irk Lilith more than she already is for once. Or, more accurately, it’s decided for her. Because in what seems like both the shortest and yet the longest stretch of carpet in her life, Ava finds herself standing next to Jillian, holding a bouquet of flowers, in front of the threshold to the church.
Lilith is still standing beside her and as if there hadn’t already been enough miracles today, she gives her a comforting look and a rub on the shoulder.
Jesus this really is a weird day, she muses.
Lilith lingers for only a second before she’s off to walk with the other bridesmaids in the party, taking her place in line with the groomsmen.
“Are you ready?” Jillian’s voice lulls her out of her stupor. It’s encouraging and supportive in all the ways it needs to be. So why does Ava kind of wish it wasn’t?
“Ready,” she breathes, taking one last second to wipe her sweaty palms on the skirt of her dress.
Without further ado, a variation of the wedding march starts to fill the cavernous walls of the church, echoing and reverberating throughout the crowded space. It looms and sounds throaty on the organ as the organist plays on, making her heart rate pick up. Before she knows it, the doors open with a flourish and her feet begin to move of their own accord. As if they’ve already done this before; as if it’s just any other day. A walk down the street to her favorite coffee shop perhaps. Or a stroll down the lane.
“It’s just one foot in front of the other, Sweetheart,” Jillian whispers to her. A comforting callback to all those times Jillian held her hand and walked her through her physical therapy exercises. She feels more than hears the words as she looks over to the woman who changed her life all those years ago. The woman who saw a young girl in an orphanage and all the potential that she had. Who decided to give her that chance to live life the way she always dreamed. Jillian looks back at her with a warm smile, a proud smile, and a depth of emotion that can’t be explained. It takes over her entire face and there are tears in her eyes as she clutches her daughter’s arm just a little bit tighter to usher them down the aisle.
Ava turns to face the music but nearly stops walking all together as she’s met with a pair of unexpectedly deep brown eyes from across the room. A woman, who’s walking towards the way they came, slows in her footsteps as she gazes on and watches Ava with a startling intensity.
A consuming intrigue, a warm welcome, and a certain radiance becomes known in her eyes as she watches from a distance. A dance of honey and amber coming to life as sunlight melts in through the high, arching windows of the church. There’s something to be puzzled about in her gaze. A chasm to cross or a challenge perhaps? No. It’s decidedly more than that. It’s daring. Daring to a point of subtlety where you don’t even know what you’re looking for until you’ve found it. Daring in a way that makes all life lose its colorful brilliance in comparison to the depths of her eyes.Her hair is highlighted with hints of sun-touched gold and makes itself known in a moment of truth as the molten light from the window behind her halos the crown of her head. Blinding, but breath-taking nonetheless.
Ava’s heart stops its incessant rhythm and time slows to a standstill in the blink of an eye as she feels herself breathe for what feels like the first time in her entire life. The oxygen burning in her lungs like it’s the last breath of fresh air she’ll ever taste. It’s an almost simultaneous feeling of an ache buried deep in her chest and the wind rising above to lift her off the ground; toying with her hair as it cradles her softly. Her senses rush with the feeling and for the second time in her living memory, they come alive. She can feel her fingertips buzz with the electricity that comes with the inherent need to touch and the way her heart is overcome with a wave of comfort. It speaks to her through her bones. A truth that rings through her and begs to be heard as all thoughts mold and shape into one indelible fact: you’re beautiful.
It echoes back and forth between one thought and the next; constantly volleyed by two master players in a fateful match. All encompassing and completely undeniable. It’s unquestionable that she’s physically radiant: with her sun-kissed hair, the constellations on her cheekbones, and her warm, honey-filled eyes. But there’s no doubt in her mind that what Ava really means is your soul and mine are the same.
A chord on the organ plays a little too sharply and suddenly all that was left behind comes rushing back like a swell in a storm. Ava’s head jolts forward as she’s reminded of where and when she is, the enormity of the moment falling heavily on her shoulders once again. All of the peace and tranquility fades away from her body till she can’t even remember if there was anything there to begin with in the first place. Her heart resumes its beating and she feels the clamminess of her hands rush back with unfortunate clarity.
What the fuck? She thinks, trying to calm her torrential downpour of emotions.
Looking back to catch another glimpse of the woman, it leaves her inexplicably devastated when nothing remains except for the empty air and the overwhelming sound of the organ as it continues to play.
“Are you alright?” Jillian asks, noticing the slight stutter in Ava’s stride. There’s not much to say in response to that in all honesty. How can she even begin to explain, let alone comprehend what just happened.
“It’s fine,” she whispers back, trying to reign in her racing thoughts. It seems like she’s been saying the same words to herself all day. Like a broken record playing in an abandoned antique shop at the end of the world. It’s getting old.
Ava looks up just in time to realize that they’ve already made it down the aisle to the altar, not even noticing how quickly it all flew by. JC has tears in his eyes as he watches his bride slowly make her way up to stand beside him next to the officiate. And suddenly all those anxieties that she’s been carrying throughout the day heave in her stomach. As if she’d had the nerve to forget about them. He looks at her in awe and she can only stare back at him for so long until his gaze seems to burn through her, almost gravid.
She averts her eyes from his face to take in how well he’s cleaned up in his fine tailored suit and matching cummerbund. The rose on his jacket stands out and gives a much needed burst of color to his ensemble. He’s also sporting a new haircut that Ava thinks suits him very well and tries to imagine running her hands through it. Everyone was right when they said that they made a handsome couple.
“You look beautiful,” He says. And Ava can tell that he means it. He’s having a rather hard time taking his eyes off her; ogling her in front of all their friends and family. Normally she’d have no shame in someone looking at her like that, but this feels different for some reason.
“Thank you,” She mouths, hoping to move on from the unexpected embarrassment that rises in her chest.
Without further deliberation, they turn to face the priest; the church falling almost deathly silent as all movement stills with baited breath. But all that’s left in Ava’s mind is an incomprehensible wanting for the stranger whose eyes made her feel at home.