Chapter Two

May, 2012

He opened his eyes, scenarios bouncing in his head from objecting and running away with her to objecting and her rejecting him, sending him away. He pictured her married, having babies and forgetting about him; forgetting about the man she nearly took out that August day, just days before his 29th birthday and then took in as someone she cared about deeply and made sure he took care of himself. He sighed deeply, shaking from his blank stare as he heard a roar of applause, the two of them kissing. 

It was done. She was married. He was still alone. He was too late. 

He couldn’t help the slight burning of tears as he hurriedly blinked them away, releasing her mother’s hand as he swiped frantically away. Thankfully she was too occupied with watching her daughter and new son-in-law seal the marriage to notice the other man, one she considered a son, falling slowly into a deep abyss at his own undoing. 

The couple turned and he knew where her eyes would go: right to his. He blinked hard once, twice, stopping any more tears as he forced himself to clap but froze when her eyes finally did drag over the crowd to meet his. They were unreadable; what he once described to her as the most transparent part of her became opaque. The smile on her face was large - but it didn’t reach her eyes; they didn’t half-close in her extreme happiness. Instead, the opaque look and the plastered on smile she carried said nothing to him.

Around them, everyone could see happiness. Everyone saw a newly wedding woman already shining beautifully in wedded bliss. Around them, the walls were closing. His heart felt as if it had stopped and pounded back to life as her eyes bore into his, still illegible. 

What is it, Gen?  Why are you looking at me that way?

As quickly as the opaqueness appeared, it melted away and her smile grew, turning her head to look at the other wedding guests. Charlie lifted their joined hands in a celebratory manner, dropping them back down as he dipped her, kissing her once more. 

I can’t be here. I shouldn’t be here. I don’t belong here. 

I need to go. I have to go. 

Just as he went to stand, everyone stood, watching as Genevieve and Charlie walked back down the aisle.  It worked out for the better; now it didn’t seem like he was leaving in a hurry - but all he wanted to do was get in his car and drive far, far away. 

“Josh, are you okay?  You look a bit pale.”

He jumped at her mom’s soft voice, eyes fluttering closed at her touch to his forehead. Breathe. Just … breathe. 

“Josh?”

He returned his gaze to hers, swallowing hard. “N-no,” he managed to murmur, “I’m not. I don’t think I’ll ever be again.”

“Joshua -“

He excused himself, gently squeezing past her before they were excused to leave. He didn’t care at this point if people noticed; he just needed air. 

“Josh!”

He heard his name being called as he reached the bottom of the steps, bending over so that his hands were on his knees. A shaky hand reached up after he was steady, yanking at the tie and loosening its suffocating grip around his neck. He’d ignore her. He’d pretend he didn’t hear her and leave. He’d -

“Joshua Scott, if I didn’t know any better, I would think you were trying to ditch this wedding.”

Dingdingding!  

He flinched when he felt her hand touch his shoulder, feeling Charlie’s presence nearby and hearing the murmurs of all the guests slowly trickling outside. “I’m not,” he spit out, shutting his eyes tightly as the ground began to spin, “just felt sick. Needed air.”

She wrapped her fingers around his bicep, tugging at him to stand. “Charlie, help me -“

“No,” he said quickly, sighing inwardly. “I mean, no, I’m okay. Just need a minute.”

“Josh -“

He stood, unsure of any other way to stop her concern except reaching forward and wrapping his arms around her, hugging her tightly. He closed his eyes, inhaling her scent. It was something different, a light amber scent - something he already decided he never wanted to smell on her again because it would remind him of this day - the day he let his heart walk off without him. 

He wanted her to smell like her citrus-self again; the papaya, mango, passion fruit. He wanted her fruity, not sexy. 

And as horrible as that had sounded in his head, that’s what he wanted. 

He wanted her. He wanted her so bad it hurt. 

He opened his eyes, meeting her mother’s gaze and he could see it in her eyes the moment theirs met that she knew. She knew. 

Fuck. 

He pulled away, forcing himself to shake Charlie’s hand. “I’m gonna go get some water from my car and I’ll see you guys at the reception,” he said softly, meeting her concerned gaze. “Gigi, I’m okay.”

No, I’m not. 

She grabbed his hand, still trying to keep him. “If you’re sure -“ 

I’ve never been so unsure of anything in my entire life. 

He left before she had a chance to say anything more, squeezing her hand as he pulled his from her grasp.  His heart was pounding, head spinning; all of this because he chose her happiness over his. 

He chose her.  Her chose her and then he lost her. 

She slipped right out of his grasp and he just let her all those years ago. 

He fumbled with his keys as he fast approached his Jeep, unlocking it quickly and getting in. He reached for the bottle of water sitting in the cup holder, staring blankly ahead as he unscrewed the top and brought it to his mouth. 

You’re a fucking idiot, Chasez. 

Chugging it until he was breathless, he started the car and began his drive to the reception hall just down the street. He was all too familiar with the roads and the hall itself, having visited and planned with Genevieve so many times that he could have possibly navigated blindly. 

It was breathtaking, if he were to be honest with himself: while the main celebration was inside, there was a gazebo just behind the main hall, adorned with fairy lights and mauve tulle - her favorite color (of the moment; he could ask her in a week and the color may change).  Around the hall, there was matching tulle and lights, giving the area a “dreamy” look (her words) at night. They both knew that once the food and drinks kicked in, many would be outside - especially with how beautiful out it had been. 

He parked, sitting in his Jeep with his head on his hands at the wheel. He hit his head a few times against his fingers, needing a moment to collect himself. 

Like that’s going to happen. 

Never in his life had his world been so messy; not even in the midst of the collapse of the group and the relationships after (better now). He had no business feeling this way; had no business wishing something different when the different wasn’t something he was so sure about. 

Charlie could give her the life she always wanted, something for the books; the wedded bliss, the babies. 

But he could give her more than that: stability, a beautiful home, the dog. 

That damn dog she talked him into getting since she wasn’t allowed pets. Bruce, the fat, slobbery English Bulldog who loved her just as much as he did. 

He sighed deeply, the ache in his chest strong. Pushing open his door and willing his legs to work, he slowly walked through the parking lot and to the hall as other guests trickled into the gravel lot. 

He found his table placard, tapping it against his hand as he walked slowly towards his seat. The hall was bright and beautiful: white floors, the mauve tulle, fairy lights everywhere. She wanted clean, so the mauve accents were only wrapped around the chairs as a ribbon and hanging from the ceiling with the fairy lights nestled inside.  Most, if not the rest, were white and crisp - something she had for Charlie so the wedding wasn’t so “girly”. 

He sat in the quiet of his table, still the only one inside.  He liked it that way; alone with his thoughts, with his self-pity - but he didn’t like that everything around him reminded him of why he felt the way he felt.

A loud laugh shook him from his thoughts, turning his head as he watched a few others joke and laugh as they gathered their table numbers, happy and unaware of the dark cloud just feet away from them. 

“She looked so beautiful.”

“They looked so happy.”

“Did you see that smile on her face?  She couldn’t wipe it off!”

He turned to face his table again, staring down at the tablecloth and scratching idly at it.  If they thought that smile was her happy, they didn’t know her at all. 

Had he made a mistake?  Had he let her do something she didn’t want to do?

He sighed deeply, resting his forehead on his arms and wishing he had not promised himself to keep sober and not do something he’d regret.

Maybe at this point, embarrassment would feel better than heartbreak.