Author : Faciikan
Main Cast : Choi Minho and her (the bride)
Support Cast : the groom
Length : ficlet
Genre : Friendship
Rating : General
Summary : It’s not about letting go, it’s about being always together. I can guarantee you, Little Princess, that there’d be no single thing about our silver linings that change after this very day.
A.N : this is a stand alone, and also a future story of my other fiction “Resolution” which was also published here in the event FF Party 2012, not really related actually but somehow related.
He was bored, he was tired, he was worn out but for his beloved little princess, everything was just a piece of cake. He was only in his black overly-priced button up shirt and formal pants. He starred at his princess who smiled for the umpteenth time. He could see that she was really happy because her eyes twinkled and her smile was brighter than the Andromeda Galaxy. He would always happy for her.
As her makeup finished, she turned to him. And smiled; and innocently asked, “How do I look?”
He grinned, “at least, little lady, you are better than Little Miss Sunshine!” She pouted as he laughed his ass off.
“Come on!” He stood up and approached her. She gestured for all other people in that room to dismiss. He hugged her from behind, “it sure took a century to get you pretty.”
She pretended to punch him and he acted like he was in pain. Then they both laughed. “But you don’t look pretty,” he caressed her cheek.
“You are beautiful.” He said.
A thin layer of tears started to form in both of her eyes. She felt like shouldn’t cry because she would tear her eye makeup apart. She just wanted to burst into that man’s arm like she always did; but if she does that the whole thing would be just a mess. How she always loved this man.
“You can’t cry, you don’t know how much effort that the makeup artist gave to put this mascara and eye shadow and everything here,” he looked her in the eyes. She could see his ‘dark pits’; his dark brown eyes which have no end; and she wanted to once more swim in those eyes looking for what was he thinking. It was just another thing to deal but why it felt so heavy? The feeling was like letting go of your kid; letting go of that kid in front of her.
She promised to him nothing would change after that very day; and so he did for his day.
She stood up and grabbed his other attires; his tie, his silver blazer and the fresh orchid boutonnière she picked earlier that day. She gestured to him and he came closer. He stretched a little looking at her face. She grabbed his shirt hem and starting to make the tie. He could possibly feel her petite fingers dancing to make the tie. She always made the best tie after his mother to him.
She was only a few inches away from him. Her slight sweet scent of the cherry scrub she probably used that morning smoothly rubbed his odor nerves. And he remembered the smell of the Kenzo perfume he bought for her Christmas present a few months back. He knew all too well about her.
She gave the last push to the tie as it was finally ready. No matter how he looked, he always looked that handsome. It wasn’t like she was biased but it was the very truth about him. And it isn’t something remarkable that he actually lived in the line of fabulousness because all of his features. Her heart sank just so deep. She once more looked into his ‘dark pits’ and she found a creepy long road. She sighed and turned around much to put on the blazer into his perfect body.
Many things ran in that little head of her. Just how much differences she could make that day. Would it make him and her poles apart? She was afraid, terribly afraid. Somehow he caught that.
“There won’t be so much happened,” he caressed her cheek, “I will always be the same me and you too. We had been thru all of these years just fine and this wouldn’t make any giant different.”
She clipped his boutonnière and smiled to him.
They walked down the aisle beautifully like it was their wedding. Her arm lingered on his as he led them to the end of the hall. The groom grinned; his bride was so beautiful. She dug her fingers into his and as that happened he knew his best buddy was nervous to the point she wanted to run to the nearest ice cream shop. He stroked her fingers and making sure that everything was on its place.
It was her turn to say the vow, but she wasn’t brave enough to take the risk. She turned her head to Minho, hoping something.
He put his thumbs up giving her a little of encouragement; that was the thing she could only ask for that moment. Before her holy ‘I do’ she just wanted his thumbs raised. So she said that, loud and clear, in front of her ultimate buddy, “I do.”
Her white dress tail swept the aisle. Being in his man arms were the best feeling. She was titled Mrs. that day and she was overly happy. The sunshine-ish smile never left her face and that was the best way to express her happiness.
And there he came, hands in the pockets and smiled childishly. “Hi, newlyweds,” He greeted.
“Congratulations you love birds,” he beamed, “after all these years keeping you two on a good relationship track finally you said that holy words.” He finished the line for the lovebird after that he turned his head to the beautiful bride.
“You’re happy?” He asked in whisper with his signature deep voice. She nodded like five years old. He knelt and grabbed both of her hands, “good. ‘Cause if you’re not happy, so am I.”
“Can I cry now? I took the vow so now I can cry,” she was ready to burst out. Minho mouthed to the groom, ‘just one hug?’ and the groom nodded. So he put her in his embrace and making sure everything would be fine, finer that it was used to be.
She remained there until she had enough—even though there was never enough to Minho’s warmth. He gently ruffled her hair so he didn’t mess it up. He put back the bride to the groom, “so, Good Sir, now you will take a vow to me. Here’s my ultimate best friend now she is fully your responsibility. Are you in?”
The groom hesitated, “if I do not take care of her well?”
“Just hope that she could endure my emotion to not send you directly to Grimm Reaper,” Minho cynically said. “So, do you take that?”
The groom nodded, “I do.”
He grinned, “Seems like my business is done. I’ve got a plane to catch, you know baby, and I am busy. Be a good couple, go and be lovey dovey you two. I’m off.”
After a little of pecks he left. The groom’s arm around his wife tightened. It felt good because it was meant for her. It was the missing puzzle piece.
Minho was still the best man; either it was a noun or adjective. Minho was her best man. Minho’s arms were carved by time to fit her; different from her groom’s arm which was the missing puzzle piece. Minho was the man who’d come without being asked by her; he was the man she could always cry into.
Minho was still the best man, the best man that she treasured the most.
©2011 SF3SI, Freelance Author.
Officially written by ME, claimed with MY signature. Registered and protected.
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