The Wedding That Wasn’t
Conrad Fisher x Reader
Summary: In the ruins of a broken wedding, sometimes there is just enough hope for love to bloom
Word Count: 8.4k
Author’s Note: Wrote maybe 80% of this is one day because the inspiration just struck so I hope y’all love this as much as I do !!
Belly had pinned, re-pinned, adjusted and re-adjusted her hair more times than you could count. In fact, you were half certain she might just do the whole thing again if she moved it one more time.
“Belly, you know I love you but if you change your hair one more time I’m going to scream,” You comment bluntly, eying her through the reflection in the mirror.
She looks at you and drops her shoulders, “Does it look bad?”
You stand up from your seat on the floor and go over to her at the vanity, placing your hands over hers to take the pin from her grasp. Belly lets her hands settle into her lap, dropping over the white satin robe. She watches you through the mirror and you smile lightly, fixing the bobby pin back into her hair and smoothing your hands over the hair to make sure it was in place.
“There, perfect,” You assure her, hands moving to rest on her shoulders, “A perfect bride.”
“Bride,” She repeats the word, “I still just can’t believe I’m a bride.”
“You’re not going to believe it until you’re on that aisle,” You laugh, “Maybe not even then.”
“I’m so nervous,” Belly shakes her head, “Like there’s a whole crowd of butterflies in my stomach.”
You squeeze her shoulders reassuringly, “And as soon as you see Jere at the end of that aisle you’re going to wonder why you were ever nervous in the first place.”
If you were being completely honest, you also couldn’t believe today was the day they were getting married. Belly and Jere. Your little sister. The boy you’d treated like your little brother. Married.
But, beyond all of that, the butterflies in your stomach weren’t for the wedding. They were for the boy you’d be walking down the aisle with. You as maid of honor, him as best man. Co-best man. Conrad Fisher. The boy you wished was yours.
It wasn’t a long lost love kind of story. Not one of unrequited love. Not one of long distance or right person wrong time or anything of the sort. It was simply you and him and it was never meant to be. You’d dated for one summer when both of you were 18. Many years ago. You were both too headstrong, too quick to become defensive, too protective of yourselves and everyone else. You were too similar. When you were together, almost always it would end in the two of you bickering about something. Sometimes it was about something you’d seen on the news, more like a debate, and other times it was because he’d taken the bigger muffin and only eaten a bite of it.
And yet there was always something there. When the two of you were together it was like a strange electricity burned in your heart, an adrenaline rush that only he could bring. You’d never thought too much about it. It was easier to ignore. It was one stupid summer fling and nothing else. There might always be something there but it was easy for that to be platonic. But with the wedding approaching so abruptly, it had brought with it a wave of emotion you hadn’t been prepared for. A yearning to be there yourself. At the end of the aisle making promises for the one you loved. And every time you found yourself picturing that exact image, there was only one boy that found himself by your side. Conrad fucking Fisher.
“Okay okay I have coffee I have croissants I have water,” Taylor comes stumbling through the bedroom door, her arms wrapped around the bundle of things in her grasp.
“Here, here, let me take those,” You laugh, taking the tray of iced coffees from her hand, “When did you have the time to get all of this?”
“I sent Steven out,” She shrugs nonchalantly, “The guys literally have nothing to do anyway.”
“I don’t think I can eat,” Belly grimaces, settling her hands over her stomach.
“Make sure you have something,” Taylor encourages, “We don’t want you passing out at the end of the aisle or something.”
“She’s right, Belly, try to have something,” You persuade, “I can get pop tarts from the kitchen too, if you want them.”
Belly shakes her head, “The croissant is fine. When should I get into my dress?”
“After coffee, definitely after coffee,” Taylor nods, curlers wrapped up in her hair, “Then we’ll fix up your makeup and then it’s dress time.”
You’d always thought Taylor was a good person for Belly to have. They could be so completely different, and yet they were the side of each other that they needed to be. Belly was reasonable when Taylor was rash, Taylor was bold when Belly wanted to be timid. They balanced each other out. And you wondered whether that was the fundamentals for any relationship, platonic or not.
You and Conrad didn’t balance each other out. You’d both tip in the same direction until it capsized you. When he’d argue, you’d argue back. When he wouldn’t talk, you wouldn’t either. You’d battle each other, even from the same side. It just wouldn’t function. You didn’t feel like the same person you were when the two of you were together but you still made sure to convince yourself those things hadn’t changed.
“I’ll be back in a second,” You squeeze Taylor’s arm, stepping past the girls and heading towards the door of Belly’s room.
When you were younger, the two of you had always shared. But when you’d turned ten, Susannah had decided you just had to have your own space. You still remember the excitement on her face when she first showed you. Conrad had helped her pick the color, the one he told her was your favourite. She knew anyway, but she wanted you to know that Conrad knew too. Whenever you passed through this house, when it was just you alone with your thoughts, you could still feel her here. She was in the art that hung on the walls, in the creaking floorboards, in the soft touch of a carpet beneath your feet, in the sun that shone through the windows of the kitchen, in the cold run of water before the heat kicked in. She was here, and part of you found comfort in the fact that she always would be.
“How’s Belly doing?”
You hadn’t noticed Steven in the kitchen until he had already spoken. He was already dressed in his grey suit, white shirt, black tie. His hair was fixed in the same way it always was, curls messy. He looked so grown up, and so much like your father.
“She’s okay, nervous,” You smile, “It’s one of the few times I don’t know what to say to make her feel better.”
Steven laughs, “My big sister admitting defeat? I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Oh come on,” You roll your eyes, “They’re young! She’s getting married! The nerves are kind of a given.”
Steven nods and both of you fall silent.
“How’s Jere doing?”
“He’s,” Steven scratches the back of his neck, “He forgot to write his speech.”
“Wh-“ You choke on the air in your lungs, “Are you… are you joking?”
Steven shakes his head, “Conrad’s helping him to write it now.”
“Fucking hell I’m going to kill that guy.”
“Yep, I told him that,” Steven grimaces, “You know what Jere’s like. He’s never serious.”
“Clearly,” You swallow, shaking your head, “As long as Belly doesn’t know, we’re okay.”
Both of you fall quiet again.
Steven was one year younger than you, but it was always like the two of you had been twins. He was another person that balanced you out. He agreed with you when he needed to, but he knew how to make sure you still had fun, he knew when not to take things too seriously, he knew when to reason with you. You’d always been certain that the three of you were meant to be siblings - as if you’d been hand plucked from your parents qualities and morphed into the perfect balance of thirds.
“Did you talk to Belly… you know, about the whole thing with Jere in Cabo?”
Even the words made your stomach twist. Jere. Cabo. It was enough to make you feel sick.
You’d only found out what had happened about two weeks ago. Belly had admitted it to you when you’d overheard Taylor make a comment. Steven found out too, Conrad had told him as soon as he knew. Both of you had reacted in a similar way - in disbelief. For multiple reasons. One that it had taken so long for Belly to tell you, another that Jere had ever even dared to cheat on your baby sister, and another that the wedding was still going ahead, that Belly still loved him enough to marry him.
“Every time I mentioned it she just kept telling me it was a mistake, and blamed herself for him thinking they were broken up,” You clench your jaw, “Apparently it’s not exactly cheating if he thought he was single.”
“Yeah because any guy in love would just jump at the chance to get into bed with the next girl he sees,” Steven scoffs, adjusting his tie, “I can’t believe she forgave him.”
“Belly sees the good in everyone,” You state, “Even when they give her a reason not to.”
“He gave her a pretty fucking good reason,” Steven grumbles, dragging a hand through his hair.
“Steven,” You give him that same tone you always heard your mother use, it seemed to come naturally to you now, “You’ve messed up your hair and your tie now.”
You go over to him and stand in front of him, towering over you even despite his younger age. You fix the knot of his tie, pressing it against the top button of his shirt, moving your hands to fix the few curls he had seemed to set awry.
“Can I at least object or something? Tell them that my sister deserves better than some asshole cheater,” Steven mumbles, eyeing you like he was truly waiting on your response.
“An asshole you are best man for,” You point out.
“Only because Belly would never forgive me if I didn’t do it,” He comments, “Come on, be serious, do you honestly think, without any tiny bit of doubt, that our baby sister should be getting married to him today?”
You step back, crossing your arms over your chest, feeling a tightness wrap around your heart, “That’s not my call to make. Belly’s an adult. She can make her own choices. My job is to be her sister, her maid of honor. And yours is to be her brother and be Jere’s best man. They can make their own decisions and it’s not on us to change that.”
“You can’t be fucking serious I-“ Steven scoffs, “You’re the first one to tell us when we’ve fucked up! You know you’re just as bad as Conrad - he won’t say anything to Jere either, he just lets him get away with shit. Why the fuck-“
“Steven it’s their wedding,” You interrupt, your words cold, “Not like telling them you shouldn’t have ran off at the mall, not like telling them you shouldn’t go on a date with that boy from middle school, not like telling them you shouldn’t have pushed that kid at the park. It’s not my job to save the day.”
He falls silent, knowing now that there was nothing more to say, or at least nothing more to argue, “Okay, okay, you’re right. It’s their wedding. Okay.”
You take a deep breath, “Just please make sure he writes that fucking speech. And please make sure there’s a drink waiting for me after this ceremony, a strong one.”
Your brother laughs, “You got it.”
“I’m going to check on Belly, I’ll see you at the aisle?”
“See you there,” He nods, stuffing his hands into his pockets and disappearing back outside.
———
Your fingertips fumbled over the silky material, drawing up the zip against Belly’s spine until it reached the top, clasping together. You smoothed your hands back down the material, freshly steamed.
“You always looked beautiful in white,” You smile behind her shoulder.
“Oh my god she’s a bride!” Taylor squeals, “You look perfect, it’s perfect, this is perfect.”
Belly laughs, “You think so?” Her eyes go to you, like it is only you that can confirm.
“Perfect.”
By now, you and Taylor were dressed in your bridesmaid dresses too - both of a powder blue, both silky and simple and figure hugging around the torso, flowing beneath your waist.
“A little more lipgloss…” Taylor purses her lips together as she applies a thin layer across Belly’s lips, “And your bouquet…”
She hands her the peonies and fixes them to a perfect angle.
“And you… are ready to walk down the aisle,” Taylor grins.
“I can’t believe it’s really happening!” Belly says in that excited tone that only came when there were nerves too.
You feel it in your stomach, the urge to tell her she shouldn’t do this. The urge to tell her it was okay if she didn’t. But instead you say;
“I’m so proud of you Belly.”
She smiles, “I just… I really wish Mom…”
“I know,” You say softly, “I know.”
“Okayyyy,” Taylor clasps her hands, “I’m going to tell the boys to get everyone sat down. We’ve got a wedding to get to.”
She disappears, leaving just you and Belly.
“So, I wasn’t sure when was a good time to give you this, but now feels as good of a time as any,” You smile, reaching into your bag and rummaging around the belongings in there.
You pull out a book, brown backing with a baby blue ribbon tying it together. On the front was a photo of all of you - the Fishers and the Conklins - and you’d set some pressed flowers around the edges, ones from Susannah’s garden.
“When Susannah was sick, you know she wanted to write you letters to know that she was still here for all these big moments for you, for all of us,” You explain, “Well, the wedding of our baby girl Belly just felt like it deserved even more. So, before she got really sick, me and her made this. I, um,” You feel a lump in your throat at the memory, “I had to finish it. But I think it is everything she would’ve wanted it to be.”
You see tears prick in Belly’s eyes, “This is…” Her fingertips smooth over the front, “This is beautiful.”
“There’s, um,” You untie the bow, letting the pages break free, “There’s some photos,” You turn the page to a photo of you and her in wedding dresses when you were only a few years old, “And there’s some messages from all of us. Mom too.”
Your sister lets out an involuntary gasp.
“I know Mom might not agree with all of this but just…” You take a deep breath, “Just read that letter. When all is said and done, she just really wants you to be happy, however that is.”
Belly looks up at you, delicately closing the pages and setting the book down beside her, “Do you… um,” She clears her throat, does that little half-laugh that she does when she’s worried, “Never mind.”
“Belly,” You hold her hands in yours, squeezing the soft skin, “Tell me.”
“Do you think Taylor’s got the boys ready?” She averts her eyes to the door, stepping back from you, letting out a breath, “We should probably go downstairs.”
You feel a sinking feeling in your heart. A little bit of you that had to accept you’d lost a bit of your sister. She wasn’t all bundled into being yours anymore. She was entirely her own person. And today, despite anything you might have thought, she would be marrying Jeremiah Fisher. And you would stand by her side and be there for her. And that was all. That wasn’t changing.
———
Getting married at the house meant that there was an awkward waiting period at the back of the house, where you all had to hover around until it was your time to walk down the aisle. Taylor was checking over Steven’s clothes, making sure he looked ‘presentable’. Jeremiah was already down the aisle, talking with his Dad who had just stood up to adjust the lapels of his suit jacket.
“Conklin,” A voice you’d recognise anywhere.
And, despite all three Conklin siblings being within earshot, they knew being referred to by your last name by that particular voice would only apply to you.
“Fisher,” You turn around, watching as Conrad walks towards you.
He has his hands stuffed into his pockets, glancing up at you with that typical smirk on his face. He had a suit matching his brother’s, a charcoal grey with a black tie. Belly had wanted the boys’ ties to match the bridesmaids’ dresses but Jere hadn’t listened.
“You look very nice,” He nods as he stands in front of you, nodding towards your dress.
“Nice? You sure know how to compliment a lady,” You scoff, “And you don’t look too bad yourself.”
“Hey, I said very,” Conrad points out.
“Hey, um,” You glance over your shoulder to make sure Belly was out of earshot, “Thank you. Steven told me you helped Jere to write his speech so… thank you. I think Belly would’ve crumbled if she found out.”
Conrad shakes his head, “You don’t need to thank me.”
“I do,” You assure, “Anything to make Belly’s day smoother, easier, less stressful. So, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” He half whispers the words, like they get stuck on his lips.
His eyes felt even more piercing against the shades of his suit.
“So I hear we have to walk down together,” Conrad points out, “I’ll try not to trip you up.”
“I figured you’d try to,” You scoff, glancing down at your shoes, “And if you don’t… I think these will.”
“I’ll hold you up, Conklin.”
There it is. The electricity in your heart.
You suppress it.
“Okay, okay, everyone in their places!” Taylor exclaims, waving her hand around to make sure everyone was somewhat in their correct order.
Belly goes to step towards the back of the group of you. After the arguments with your parents, she’d decided to walk herself down the aisle. Your father had been upset, at first, and yet didn’t put up enough of a fight. He’d settled. He’d accepted his fate. Steven had tried to make Belly feel better - told her he didn’t like the idea of your father having to give her away anyway, it was her choice. And part of you thought that was another tiny fight your brother was putting up to sort of remind Belly she still had free will over these choices. One choice in particular.
Belly stands behind you and you glance back at her, smiling brightly.
You mouth the words ‘I love you’ and she settles her shoulders, smiling softly, returning the words back to you.
Steven and Taylor walk out first, her gripping his arm tightly to keep him in check, him laughing at the importance she holds in carrying her bouquet at the right height.
“Let’s do this Conklin,” Conrad links his arm with yours, glancing back to Belly, “See you out there!”
You hold onto him, stepping in time as you move towards the garden doors.
White wicker chairs had been set out in two sections on the garden, only fifteen or so either side. There were white rose petals scattered across the grass, directing the path that the two of you had to follow. A soft song was playing out of Steven’s speaker - you didn’t recognise it, or maybe you just couldn’t focus. At the end of the aisle, an archway of hydrangeas, powder blue. Susannah’s hydrangeas.
“Are you okay?” Conrad hisses from beside you, his arm clenching for you to draw your attention to the contact between the two of you.
You feel your steps falter, your feet stopping all together just momentarily, “It’s-“
It was the sight of Jeremiah there. Somehow smug and all too proud at the end of the aisle. It was then that you felt more confident than ever that Bely couldn’t do this. That you wished for more than anything that she wouldn’t.
“I know,” Conrad assures you, “I know.”
You glance at him and his eyes share the same certainty as yours. And, weirdly, the same acceptance that it was completely out of your hands. For the first time in forever, the two older siblings had to give up all attempts to fix things.
You take another deep breath, walking the rest of the way down the aisle together, smiling at each face you recognised. And one, in particular, a row back from the front - your mother.
“Mom,” You half whisper the word, like a gasp caught in your throat.
Conrad leans into your ear, “I called in a favor.”
You glance to him again and let out a laugh, “You-“
“Don’t thank me.”
He releases your arm at the end of the aisle, squeezing your hand just as it falls to your side. Conrad goes to stand beside his brother and you go to stand beside Taylor.
Your Mom looks up at you, that hint of warmth behind her eyes she always seemed to have when she looked at you.
Jeremiah looks over at you and you return his smile.
And then there she is.
Belly descends the few steps, following the path down the garden, getting closer to the waiting crowd. Her eyes land on you, on Taylor, on Steven, on Conrad, and then to Jeremiah. He faces away, focusing on the hydrangeas. He takes a deep breath. Belly does the same. And then her eyes land on your mother. You see the switch, the shift in her eyes. Belly’s lips part just slightly, like the air has been knocked from her lungs. Her shoulders drop a little, her grasp faltering slightly on the bouquet in her hands.
But it’s her eyes.
There’s something in them that Belly could never hide. Your Mom could see it too. So could Steven. You all knew her too well. Steven looks to you and you can feel the burn of his eyes, but you can’t take yours away from your sister. The crowd are starting to notice too, awkwardly shifting as they stand for the bride - the bride that was yet to move another inch. Jeremiah glances to his best men, evidently also concerned that the song was starting to end and he was still not greeted by his bride.
“She can’t do it,” You mutter the words, mainly to yourself but loud enough that Taylor clocks it too.
“Wh-“ Taylor looks to you, “What do you mean?”
Before you can respond, Belly loses her grip on the bouquet in her hands, and they fall to the floor almost perfectly in time with the tear that slips down her cheek. Her lips part like she is trying to find the words to say, her eyes blurrily focusing on the back of Jeremiah. He turns around then, like he can feel her eyes on him. It’s as if you can see the moment his heart breaks. He doesn’t know what is happening but he knows it isn’t what he had hoped. There she stood, perfect in her white dress, heels starting to dig just a little into the grass beneath her, hands trembling, tears in her eyes.
“Belly…” Jeremiah begins, his eyes only focused on her.
Across the aisle, you clock eyes with Conrad. He held a different expression to yours. You could feel your heart reaching out for your sister, wanting to wrap around hers before hers had the chance to break. He, instead, seemed to want desperately to reach out for his brother, to hold him up in his arms before he had the chance to crumble to the floor. Both of you the older siblings, just waiting for the moment to reach out to your baby siblings and tell them that you could fix whatever had broken. But something here just felt beyond fixing.
Within a second, Belly turns in her heels, hands grabbing at her dress to lift it above her ankles, running back up towards the house.
“Bells!” Jeremiah yells after her, glancing around at the gawking eyes around him, like he’s only just remembered that they are all there.
He goes to hurry after her, at the exact moment that your Mom steps out of her seat. She steps ahead of him and places a hand to his chest, saying nothing and everything in that one gesture - ‘i need to do this, not you’. And then your Mom is hurrying down the aisle, following in her youngest daughter’s footsteps back into the house. Jeremiah stands, defeated, picking up the fallen bouquet from the floor. His shoulders drop, the flowers hanging limp beside his leg. In that moment, he looks like a boy that had borrowed his father’s suit. A boy in an attempt to be a man, suddenly out of his depth and flailing to stay above the surface. He looked younger than his years, no longer a groom but simply a little boy that had lost his best friend. Whilst you would never put aside him cheating on Belly, in that moment your heart ached for him. In fact, your heart broke for him.
———
If it wasn’t obvious, the wedding didn’t go ahead that day. Conrad apologised to the guests, though the small crowd seemed more confused than disappointed. He had offered that they could take some food with them but the whole idea seemed a bit strange, and in the end everybody left sober and hungry as if there had never been a wedding to attend at all. Adam had sat trying to console Jeremiah, telling him that Belly just needed some space and then they could figure it out. Your Mom had been in Belly’s room with her for over an hour. You’d brought them water and tissues and, now, you, Steven and Taylor all stayed in the corridor outside waiting for your cue to her. It felt like a hospital waiting room. Steven had taken off his jacket, undone the top button of his shirt, loosened his tie. He sat on the floor, his suit trousers oddly looking far too small for him as they hiked up the length of his calfs, his knees drawn up, his head pressed back against the wall. Taylor stood beside him, her heels discarded on the floor, her hair still perfectly in place, creases forming in her dress from where she leant back against the wall too. You stood opposite the two of them, all three of you completely silent until Steven says;
“She should have never forgiven him in the first place.”
“Isn’t Jere supposed to be like your best friend?” Taylor squints, “Didn’t you want this?”
“Yeah before I found out that he cheated on my fucking sister,” Steven scoffs, “She deserves better than that.”
“How did your Mom turn up?” Taylor directs her attention to you, “Did you know she was going to be here?”
You shake your head, “I think Conrad spoke to her. I’m glad she came, it’s who Belly needed to see. Maybe Conrad knew that.”
Before you can say anything more, your Mom steps out of the room, glancing between all three of you. She gives you a nod as if an approval to enter and Steven and Taylor burst through the door as if they were animals breaking free from their cage. You pause for a moment, seeing the look on your mother’s face - a strange mix of sadness and relief and pride and worry. You were sure the same expression would echo in your own.
“She’s okay?”
“She’s going to be,” Laurel squeezes your arm.
With that, you step into the room too. Belly was sat in the middle of the bed. Steven sits in front of her, a furrow between his brows. Taylor sits on one side of her, stroking Belly’s hair. Your sister looked strangely older in the moment, not in age but more so in maturity. A full adult. You walk over and take the space on the other side of her. In the blink of an eye, Belly falls into you, her arms wrapping around you, your torso practically holding her up as she sobs against your shoulder. And, just like that, she’s back to being your little sister. You know nothing else in the moment but to be there for her, gripping her tightly, reminding her it would be okay, that she was okay, promising her it would get better. And that is how you stay.
———
The sun is starting to set by the time you leave the room. Belly had fallen asleep and Taylor had promised to stay with her. Steven had gone out to get food with your parents. You close the bedroom door behind you, picking up your heels from the floor and carrying them downstairs. As you step into the kitchen, the house feeling emptier than ever now, you catch a glimpse of one lingering body outside.
“You know I think the wedding is cancelled,” You call over to him, walking across the grass to the chairs and aisle still set up as they were.
Conrad glances over his shoulder, standing up from the chair in the front row, “Are you sure about that?”
“I heard something about it, yeah.”
You both laugh, falling silent a moment later.
“How’s Jere?”
“How’s Belly?”
The words come out together, tangling in the space between you. Conrad lets you speak first, he always did.
“She’s okay, she’s just fallen asleep. I think she’ll feel a bit clearer in the morning,” You nod, “And Jere?”
“Devastated. He’s gone home with Dad, we said it would be best if they just had some space for a day or two. For both of them,” Conrad nods, his hands stuffed into his trouser pockets, “It was horrible seeing him like that.”
“Do you-“ You wrap your arms over your chest, “Do you think she made the right choice?”
“Absolutely,” Conrad exhales, shaking his head, “It’s just shitty that it had to break Jere’s heart in the process.”
You nod in agreement, both of you falling silent again. When the two of you split up, you both agreed nobody’s heart was broken, it just didn’t work out. It was only one summer. And yet you hadn’t felt complete again until you saw him that thanksgiving. Maybe that was what a broken heart could feel like, a little bit broken at least.
“It’s also shitty that I put all this effort into the hydrangeas for nothing,” Conrad turns around, walking over to the archway of flowers, still flourishing in bloom, seemingly the brightest thing around.
“You did this?!”
“Of course I did,” Conrad smirks, “Jere said they didn’t need anything but, come on!”
“Oh it absolutely needed this,” You reassure him, “I just can’t believe you made it.”
“Well, you underestimate me Conklin,” He nods, his eyes trailing you as you inspect the structure, fingertips brushing over the delicate petals.
“Maybe I do,” You smile, pulling your eyes away from the flowers to glance over at him.
“I, um,” He pauses, “I thought they’d be good if I ever got married but…”
“They’re beautiful,” You beam, “I used to tell your Mom when I was younger that I wanted them at my wedding.”
Conrad knew that, of course he did. That’s the main reason he wanted them at his.
He clears his throat, “Where did everybody go?”
“Well, Taylor is staying with Belly, and my parents and Steven went out for food,” You explain.
“Food?” Conrad laughs, “Have you seen how much fucking food we have for this wedding?”
You grimace, “Isn’t it a bit bad to eat food from a wedding that didn’t happen?”
“Isn’t it bad to waste perfectly good food?” Conrad narrows his eyes at you.
You laugh, reaching up to smooth a hand over your hair. It was a little messier now, the curls frizzing from where Belly had been pressed against you. In that moment, Conrad steps a space closer to you, his fingers lifting to brush a curl away from your face. His eyes flick from your hair, to your dress, to your eyes, to your lips, to your eyes again.
“You know,” He clears his throat, “As best man and maid of honor I think we’re supposed to dance at the wedding.”
“You don’t dance, Fisher.”
“With you, I would.”
He steps back from you, reaches a hand into his pocket and takes out his phone. In a few presses, ‘something, somehow, someday’ starts to play. It’s quiet, just loud enough for the two of you. Conrad sets the phone down onto the floor, beside the archway, and reaches out a hand to you. You oblige.
His hand moves to your back, the other holding one of yours. Your head rests against his chest, feeling a hint of calm for the first time all day. For the first verse and first chorus, you remain like this, until he moves both of his hands to your waist, and yours move to link behind his neck, looking up at him as he towered above you. Barefoot in front of him, you felt shorter than ever against his tall form.
“So, when did you change Fisher?”
“Change?” He cocks a brow, “I didn’t change.”
Perhaps, he’s right. Perhaps this was just you starting to see him again. There’s that electricity in your heart again, that same excitement. It was him. Only he could bring that feeling.
“We had to grow up so fast, being the older ones,” He speaks so softly, “I think in that time I was so focused on being there for them that I stopped thinking about doing anything to grow up myself. If I wasn’t focused on Jere or Belly or Steven, I was focused on impressing my Dad or being there for my Mom. After… when Mom passed, I just realised I had to do something differently. I could be there for Jere but I could also let him fuck up, and I could still kind of hate my Dad but I could also just accept that he was never going to change. I could grieve and be sad in California or I could keep busy - I started cooking more, getting better at making things, fixing things. I don’t know, I just felt like maybe I could be helpful to myself instead of just waiting for someone else that needed help.”
You readjust your hands around his neck, dropping to his shoulders, fingers holding over the muscles there, “I know how you feel. After Belly went to college… I just… you know, I love being their sister, of course I do, but part of me knew I needed to not just be that for a little while. I stopped being so argumentative when I didn’t have my little siblings to defend, I stopped worrying so much when I didn’t have to worry about them too. I feel like I’m more myself.”
Conrad smiles and only now do you realise the song had started playing for a second time. Neither of you make an attempt to move, still swaying back and forth to the lyrics, Conrad’s hands still held firmly on your waist. Your eyes look to the sun setting, to the empty chairs, to the hydrangeas in their perfect arrangement. And yet his eyes don’t leave you.
———
When you make the move to go back inside, Conrad holds the door open for you, the two of you padding over to the kitchen.
“Do you think they’ll notice if we eat some of the food?” You hiss.
Conrad looks back, turning on the low light in the kitchen to illuminate the room a little. You lean down to look into the refrigerator, scanning over the trays of food that were stored. You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering slightly.
Within a second, Conrad steps behind you, his jacket draping over your shoulders. Electricity, again.
“We can take this,” Conrad leans over you, placing one hand on your back and the other one reaching over you to take one of the plates.
“This feels like a curse,” You whisper, slipping your arms into his jacket, letting it fall over your form.
You hop up onto the kitchen island, legs dangling over the edge.
“Then we’ll be cursed,” He narrows his eyes at you, setting the plate down beside you, “But if it helps, this is just my leftovers.”
From one of the cupboards, he takes out two slices of bread - a thick farmhouse bread, the kind you’d pick up from the farmers market.
“It does help.”
Conrad takes out slices of grilled chicken and sets them over the slices of bread, taking out lettuce and mayonnaise from the fridge and bringing it over.
“I feel like I should be helping,” You comment, watching as he finishes up with the sandwich.
“Believe it or not Conklin, I’m just about capable of making a sandwich,” He assures you, picking up the sandwich and bringing it over, “You can try first.”
You take a big bite from one side, licking away the mayonnaise from the corner of your mouth, “You are correct, you are capable of making a sandwich, Fisher.”
Conrad leans down and takes a bite from the sandwich still in your hands, his eyes focused on you as he does, “Hm, could be better.”
You swallow the lump in your throat.
A growing part of you felt guilty. When you would think back to this day, it wouldn’t only be Belly that came to mind. Not just her. Not just Jeremiah’s devastation. Instead, the day would be laced with these moments with Conrad. These moments that didn’t feel like you and him and yet felt more like yourselves than ever. You weren’t arguing, you weren’t debating, you were just in these tiny moments of harmony with a boy that made you feel electric.
“So, where do you think things go from here?” Conrad asks you, not moving from in front of you.
“I’m hoping Belly goes to Paris, it would be good for her, get some space, clear her head,” You nod, “And I hope Jere is good too, who knows maybe this will bring he and your Dad closer. He can go back to the frat, maybe it will be good for him to just enjoy the last bit of college and figure it out from there.”
Conrad nods, “It’s Jere, he’ll be okay.”
Before you can continue, the front door opens and your Mom and Steven appear.
Conrad clears his throat, stepping back from you.
“Hey!” You smile over at the two of them, “Where’s Dad?”
“He went back to the motel,” Laurel explains, “He’ll come back in the morning to see Belly. Have you seen her?”
You shake your head, “She’s still asleep.”
Steven smiles, “It’s probably the most sleep she’s had all week.”
“Have you two eaten? I brought back some things from the restaurant,” Your Mom hands over a plastic bag of takeaway boxes.
Her eyes glance down at the sandwich on the counter, bites taken from two corners.
“Well, I’m going to go to sleep,” Laurel sighs, squeezing your knee, “Get some rest, it’s been a long day.”
You nod to your Mom and she squeezes Steven’s hand before walking out.
“What did you guys do since we’ve been gone?” Steven asks, filling up a glass of water.
Conrad glances to you, a small glint of a smile, “Nothing exciting.”
“Do you think they’re going to be okay?” Steven turns around, looking to you for his answer as he always seemed to.
“They will,” You nod, the sleeves of Conrad’s jacket hanging over your hands, “Eventually, both of them will know it was the right choice.”
Steven takes a deep breath, “I’m going to crash, I’ve had a headache since this morning.”
“There’s medicine in my toiletries bag, take some before you sleep, you’ll feel better in the morning,” You say to him and he salutes as if following an order.
“Good night, you two,” Steven shuffles out of the room.
Conrad looks back at you. Your hair was messier, your makeup was wearing down, your dress was wrinkling around your thighs where the material had creased, his jacket fell baggy around your torso. You were perfect. To him, you always would be.
“You want to know another shitty thing about this wedding not going ahead?”
“Let me guess, you also made the cake?” You cock a brow.
Conrad rolls his eyes, “No.”
“Then what, Fisher?”
“I-“ He croaks, “I wrote a speech.”
“A speech?” You raise your brows.
“Well, Steven did most of the best man speech but I thought I should say something too so I wrote some things down,” Conrad explains, “It’s in my jacket.”
You grin widely, reaching into the inside pocket to pull out the folded piece of paper.
Scrawled in his hand writing were a few bullet point notes:
- thank everyone
- congrats jere + belly
- mom + laurel
- dads?
And, underneath, scrawled just like the rest, words that struck like a bolt of lightning through your chest. Like you could hear them being spoken through his own voice.
Love like this will never leave you. It will stay with you in every moment you’re together. And in those moments you are apart, you will realise the difference love made when they were there. The person they make you want to be, the way they challenge you, the way you see parts of yourself in them. Love like this will never leave because it is what wakes you up in the morning, what makes every passing day worth it. Whether fleeting or forever, it is love that shapes us and love that makes us carry on.
When you look up, the paper held between your fingers, Conrad is stood leaning against the kitchen counter opposite you. You go to speak but, instead, your lips just part and nothing comes out. You feel a heat build in your cheeks, a clench in your chest. And before you can think, Conrad strides over to you, his hands grasping either side of your face, pulling you into him. His lips find yours, firm and desperate and longing and him. You gasp against the contact, hands flying to his shoulders, twisting at the material of his shirt.
When he pulls away, both of you stop as if the air has been completely knocked from your lungs. His eyes are solely on you, scanning for a reaction - be it good or bad.
You don’t say anything, just drag one hand into his hair at the back of his neck and pull him to you once more, gentle and steady this time.
“I-“
“Me too,” You whisper when his words won’t come out, his forehead pressing against yours.
He smiles, breathless in the hot air between the two of you, “I thought… I just… I couldn’t waste any more time not telling you how I felt.”
You smile too, running your hand through the hair that had fallen in front of his face.
“I mean it,” Conrad persists, “Everything on that paper, I mean it.”
You glance down at the speech notes he’d handed you, discarded at some point on the countertop. You feel your heart swell, less electric this time and more just like it was finally full once more.
“I’ve missed you,” You whisper, smiling over the words.
Conrad grins, shifting his hands underneath your thighs to scoop you from the counter. You squeal, your legs wrapping around him, arms flying to hold yourself around his neck.
He carries you across the kitchen and into the lounge, lowering you down onto the couch before dropping down beside you.
Years ago, the two of you would spend hours like this. It was at the same time that Laurel wasn’t happy with the two of you sharing a room. So, instead, you’d both sneak downstairs and spend hours on the couch. You’d lean back against the arm rest and he would lay down over you, his head against your chest, his legs hanging over the opposite arm rest. He could feel the steady beat of your heart, and the way your chest would shake when you’d laugh. You’d draw patterns over his arms, he’d draw patterns over your thighs.
Like this, the weight of the day seems to fall on your shoulders, your eyes struggling to remain open. You feel your limbs grow heavy, arm draping over him as if you needed even your sleeping form to remember that he was still there.
———
When you wake the next morning, there is no weight on top of you, instead just a blanket draped over. You glance around and don’t see Conrad anywhere.
This is how it was when the two of you first split up. You’d spoken for hours the night before about accepting that it wasn’t working, then you’d both fallen asleep on that couch and the next morning he’d disappeared. Neither of you brought it up again, never spoke about it to anybody else, you just carried on.
You feel a strange clench in your chest at the thought, maybe this was a repeat. Maybe yesterday was just both of you caught in the moment.
As you step up from the couch, your dress creased and bunched around you, the material feeling weirdly itchy and uncomfortable now you’d been wearing it for so long. Your eyes catch sight of a t-shirt and shorts folded on the table beside the couch and you feel your heart swell a little. They were folded neatly - one of Conrad’s t-shirts and a pair of your own shorts you were sure you hadn’t worn in maybe five years. When you try to change into them, the shorts barely reach past your knees but the t-shirt came down low enough around your thighs that you give up on the shorts all together. That would suffice.
You notice a glimpse of someone outside and recognise the mop of hair before anything else. Conrad is stacking up chairs from the garden and carrying them over to one side. He’s wearing a white t-shirt and grey baggy shorts. You smile to yourself. If this was like the first time, you would dread the thought of going out there and letting him confirm your worst fear. But you were older now. More sure of yourself.
You step outside, the door closing lightly behind you as you pad down the stairs and across the garden. Conrad was crouched down now beside one of the chairs, unfastening some flowers they’d used as decoration. He glances up when he sees you walking closer. And, as if a reflex response, his face lights up into a bright smile, standing up from his position instantly.
“Hey you,” He beams, wrapping his arms around you so strong he lifts you up from the ground.
Your arms wrap around him too, breathing in the after-shower scent he always had in the mornings.
As he lowers you back to the ground you find the courage to say, “I thought you’d left.”
“No, no, I just thought I’d clear this stuff up before Belly woke up and-“ It’s then that he realises what you actually meant, not that he’d just left but that he’d left you, that whatever happened yesterday was already over.
He pauses, cupping one hand to your cheek and leaning down to kiss you gently, pulling away and looking between both of your eyes, back to your lips, back to your eyes.
“I’m not leaving.”
You smile, looping your arms around his neck as you feel the relief settling into your chest.
“Thank you for bringing me clothes, I couldn’t wear that dress any longer,” You mention, running your finger through the short hairs at the back of his neck.
“Yeah I brought you shorts too but I-“ Conrad glances back to the house.
You giggle, “Con, I don’t think I’ve worn those since I was like 18, they definitely don’t fit anymore.”
He scrunches his nose, narrowing his eyes, “That would make sense, yeah, that would explain why I found them buried at the back of my closet.”
You laugh, “That would be it.”
“Well, at least you look good in my t-shirt,” Conrad grins, lifting you up, the t-shirt riding up over your underwear.
“Conrad!” You squeal, one hand flying back to try to pull the material back down.
He laughs, setting you back down onto the grass, “Give me five minutes to finish this up and then coffee?”
You hum in agreement and he kisses you gently, and then once more as if he just couldn’t help himself.
He turns around and finds an already empty chair, stepping aside as if encouraging you to sit there. You oblige, drawing your knees up to your chest as he carries on around the garden. He carries over a few chairs to the other side of the garden into the stacks he’d already made, a pile of flowers starting to form on the ground beside them. Then he moves over to the hydrangeas, seconds away from lifting the arch up before he pauses, glancing over his shoulder in your direction. He shifts around for a moment, unfastening one of the large flowers from its arrangement, before turning around with the biggest of smiles on his face.
You giggle as he walks towards you, flower held firmly in his hands as he crosses over the garden to you.
He leans down, settling the flower into your own grasp as his face comes to be level with yours. You smile, feeling your cheeks flush under his attention, your heart pounding with the same electricity. His breath fans hot over your lips, his lips parting just a little as Conrad leans in enough to close the gap between you. His kiss is slow and gentle and yet so incredibly sure of himself it’s unlike anything you’ve felt before. This could be it. You and him.
Just you and him.