I’m feeling like a king as I reclaim his hand and settle back in my seat. It’s far too crowded to attempt a personal conversation now, but as Christian recognizes the people walking in, he fills me in on who they are.
I have fuck all chance of remembering names so I take note of his tone, and assign them to categories instead. Assholes,Strangers, and Tolerable. Thetolerablepeople are the ones I dislike the most, because they’re too weak to stand up for Christian, but I’ll bet they consider themselves to be allies anyway.
My heart hurts for him. This cute stranger who I can already tell is a better person than anyone else visiting this damn venue. Maybe if more people were like him, this world wouldn’t be such a fucked-up place.
Christian inhales sharply and leans closer to me, almost like he’s seeking comfort. “My parents.”
And like that, I’ve found a fourth category: Blind Hatred.
I press my shoulder against his in solidarity. “Quick question, is your father wearing a rat on his head?”
“W-what?” His attention breaks from them and finds me again.
“I’m just saying, that’s the most awful hair piece I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen quite a few in my time.”
“Last time I saw him, he had all his hair.” The wistful note in Christian’s voice isn’t good.
“Well look at that …” I ruffle Christian’s chaotic curls, then attempt to smooth them down again. “You’ve already got one up on him. We’re starting the day a point in your favor. I have a good feeling about this.”
Christian drops his head, but he’s smiling. “Thank you.”
“You have nothing to thank me for.”
Still, he’s reserved as the groom and groomsmen take their place up in front and we wait on his cousin. She’s right on time too, so she gets props for that, and when she appears, the family resemblance is strong. All throughout our side of the guests, I spot the same strong jawline and dark curls.
As far as ceremonies go, it’s a lovely one. There are a few sniffles, the officiant makes a couple of jokes, and if I hadn’tknown about the heavy homophobia ingrained in these people, I’d be enjoying myself.
Christian twitches beside me.
“You okay?” I whisper, eyeing him.
He nods, but halfway through the nod, he twitches again.
Oh no, please tell me he’s not epileptic or something. It’s been far too long since I brushed up on my first aid skills.
This time his whole head and shoulder moves.
“Christian …” I murmur.
“It’s fine.” His words are a barely discernible grunt. Still, even as he tries his hardest to sit silently, his body gives the occasional twitch. And then I see it. A small black insect buzzing around his head.
He bats at it as a second arrives.
“Jesus …” he mutters, too low for anyone but me to hear.
“Need help?”
“They … won’t …” He shakes his head and they fly into the air before landing again.
“What’s in your hair?” I ask.
“Dunno. Some kinda gel I borrowed from my roommate.”
“Well, whatever is in it is attracting them.”
He huffs. “Ofcourseit is.”
A third fly arrives and it’s nearly impossible not to laugh. Somehow, I hold myself together and bat that one away, but like the others, it immediately redirects and lands on his head.