“Ladies and Gentleman, please put your hands together for
the Bride and Groom!”
The doors to the reception hall opened and the already
dazzlingly bright room (adorned in all manner of vivid reds, oranges and
purples) seemed to grow brighter as the happy couple stepped inside to
thunderous applause. Adrien jumped, whooping and cheering more loudly than he’d
ever done in his entire life. All sense of decorum, all the manners which had
been drilled into him since birth, all of that forgotten with an air of “screw it, my best friends just got
And what a wedding it had been. Less than one hundred people
and very intimate. Nino had proposed on holiday, taken by a moment of
spontaneity and overwhelming love as he’d brought Alya to Morocco, his place of
birth. Alya had been so taken by Marrakesh, the golden sun, the energy, the
music as well as Nino’s extended family, that she had insisted on having the
wedding here- foregoing a more traditional French wedding. In her own words,
“It’s not really our style anyway.”
To Adrien, it still seemed so surreal, even as Nino and Alya
made their way over to them, looking more blissful than he’d ever seen either
of them. The fact that they’d spent a year and a half planning, the late
nights, the never-ending list of things to do, all of it leading up to the
moment where they’d stood together, surrounded by a pool of lilies, and
declared each other partners for life.
“Oh my god,” Marinette whispered in his ear and, though he
was facing away from her, he could tell she was as close to tears as he was.
“They’re married! Look at them.”
“I know,” he replied. Marinette must have heard the wavering
in his voice, as she reached down to squeeze her hand in his. The interaction
was short lived however, as Nino and Alya finished embracing their parents and
he was wrapped in a group hug so tight he was sure to stop breathing. The tears
fell freely now as Adrien recalled the countless amount of times the four of
them had been like this, the years they’d spent huddled together for reasons
both joyous and terrible. It was a beautiful constant in his life.
Speaking of beautiful constants.
As they sat down in their seats, ready for the meal,
Marinette already had a tissue ready for him. Adrien turned to her, kissing her
softly in thanks. Their eyes met, and once again Adrien found himself taken by
the strange kind of energy they shared throughout the day. He didn’t know if it
was the wedding bringing out his inner romantic, of if something between them
had shifted as they watched their best friends of ten years get married.
Whatever it was it was…different. “I’ve always got your back, Kitty,” she
uttered, snuggling closer to him.
Adrien smiled to himself. She did. She really did.