Chapter Text
Shane was eight when he discovered his purpose in life.
He was at Notre-Dame Basilica of Montreal for his cousin Emma’s wedding.
The church was packed. Every row was filled with guests whispering and turning in their seats, waiting for the ceremony to begin. Shane remembered thinking everyone looked nervous except him.
Because he had one job. A very important one.
A few minutes before the ceremony started, the zipper on his cousin Emma’s dress got stuck, one of the bridesmaids began to cry, and someone realized the flower arrangement for the altar had been left in the rain. Everyone was panicking.
So, as natural as breathing, Shane fixed it.
He found safety pins for the dress, calmed the bridesmaid down, saved the flowers before they were completely ruined, and somehow managed to make it all look like nothing had happened.
Then, right before the doors opened, Emma handed him the end of her train and told him not to let it drag while she walked down the aisle.
And that’s what he did.
Shane walked behind her carefully, holding the fabric off the ground while the music played and everyone stood to watch her. And he remembered thinking, with his heart beating with excitement, very clearly, that this was it.
This was what he was meant for.
Making sure everything went right for everyone else, except himself.
“We gathered here today to celebrate the union of Troy Barret and Harris Drover, in the presence of their family and friends, as they promise to share their lives, their love, and everything that comes with forever.”
Shane glanced at the watch on his wrist as he tapped his foot incessantly. He was surrounded by the fresh scent of daisies, wearing a tailored suit, his hair perfectly styled.
When it came to weddings, Shane always had everything meticulously planned.
He watched Troy smile at Harris with the sweetness and ease of a successful wedding, and Shane mirrored the gesture as he counted down the passing seconds.
“My dress is itchy,” Rose grumbled beside him, and he gave her a subtle nudge. “What? It’s not my fault it’s poorly designed.”
“It’s not poorly designed because I was the one who selected and approved the latest model,” Shane muttered without moving his mouth, trying to maintain his smile. “Stop complaining and enjoy the moment.”
“I will when I’m next to get married. Oh, wait, that’s not going to happen. So tough fucking luck.”
Shane wanted to tell her that if she took a little more of a risk, she'd be the one getting married soon, but the church erupted in applause, signaling that his time was up.
His heart skipped a beat as he watched Troy sweep Harris into his arms and kiss him passionately. As the guests began to disperse, Shane ran off.
The thing was Shane didn't do things halfway. He never neglected his responsibilities in any aspect of his life, especially when it came to helping friends and acquaintances. Shane was proud of his impeccable work, and apparently, he wasn't the only one, because his reputation preceded him, and everyone sought his help when their big day arrived.
"Excuse me, sorry, yes, big party, excuse me."
Shane successfully navigated through the crowd approaching the newlyweds to congratulate them, and, weaving through a group of loudly laughing children, reached the doorway. Before he could step outside, he bumped head-on into a man who was just entering.
"Shit, sorry!" Shane yelled, but didn't turn around to see who it was.
Time was ticking, and every second counted.
The taxi he had booked earlier was parked on the side of the road, so Shane got in without looking and immediately began to undo his bow tie.
“Head to the next venue,” Shane said by way of greeting. “Don’t look and you’ll get your money for the night—hey, I said don’t look! Only if you get there on time.”
The taxi driver, a young man with ginger hair and light eyes, nodded and accelerated.
“Are you marrying two people? That’s illegal, man.”
“I’m the best man,” Shane replied, quickly unbuttoning his white shirt and replacing it with a burgundy one. “No more questions. Drive.”
“Two weddings? Who gets married that many these days?”
“People who love each other, those who are devoted to one another. Those who believe in—”
“Do you need to match your underwear too?”
“I said don’t look!”
Fabian and Ryan’s wedding was a surprise in many ways, particularly because they had both chosen burgundy as their theme color, so Shane, of course, helped them fulfill every one of their requirements.
Another surprise was getting married on a freaking pier, in honor of Ryan’s childhood memories.
"Wait here," Shane said. The taxi pulled up beside the crowd already gathered around the outdoor wedding altar. "If you leave, I'll kill you."
"Don't worry, best man, go save the day."
The driver's mocking tone seemed to indicate he didn't think his job was real, but Shane took the trust his friends placed in him very seriously.
When he entered Ryan's tent, the man had an expression of distress etched on his face and was nervously fidgeting with his hands.
"Shane, thank goodness you're here," the man said in his characteristically timid tone, this time laced with anxiety. "I lost my suit cufflinks and—"
"Hey, I've got backups," Shane replied with a smile he knew was reassuring. "Everything will be fine, Ryan. Fabian is happy to marry you."
Shane wasn't necessarily good at socializing in everyday life, but in his role as a wedding fixer, he had learned to read all the signs. Shane knew the couples getting married, their fears, and their preferences, which allowed him to act accordingly in any situation.
Ryan, who had displayed high anxiety throughout the wedding planning, seemed to receive his words positively. The man quickly adjusted his cufflinks and looked at his reflection in the mirror with a tender expression.
"And I'm happy to do it with him."
Shane felt that familiar longing in his chest at the sight of the radiant, fulfilled man before him, a feeling that only intensified as he walked behind the groom to the altar. When he saw Fabian appear with his parents to a slow, emotional wedding march, Shane had to take a deep breath to hold back the tears that welled in his eyes.
Perhaps it was the day's weariness, Shane thought. He had spent the day dividing his time between both celebrations, eager for both to be a success. His two friends had decided to get married on the same day, and since his job was to make them happy, Shane did what was necessary to make it happen.
The tears reflected Shane’s soul, overwhelmed by the occasion; it wasn't envy or rejection. Weddings were happy occasions for him, even if he didn't play the leading role, however much he participated.
It didn't really matter.
Shane was convinced that the satisfaction of making others happy was what fulfilled him.
After several back-and-forth trips between venues, slipping in and out of crowds, and quietly stitching together problems no one else even noticed were happening, Shane eventually found himself back where everything started.
Troy and Harris’s wedding reception.
It felt almost surreal how normal everything looked now—the chaos finally settling into celebration instead of preparation. Shane adjusted his tie as he re-entered the crowd, blending seamlessly into place as if he'd never left. No one seemed to notice his absence, so Shane allowed himself a sigh and a drink.
Rose appeared at his side a moment later, a little too bright-eyed and noticeably more cheerful than usual, clearly having had more than a few drinks already, and spoke a bit too loudly as she leaned in closer.
“Okay, which one do you want? The dark-haired one or the blond? I kinda want the blond, I’m not gonna lie.”
Shane didn’t even turn his head fully, just exhaled through his nose.
“Can’t you behave yourself for once?”
Rose gasped like he had personally offended her entire existence.
“Are you kidding? The whole point of this monstrous dress is just to be destroyed by some drunk groomsman’s teeth later.”
“That is…deeply concerning.”
“Realistic.” she corrected.
Shane appreciated Rose's relentless attempts to bring him back to reality, but he preferred the gentle murmur of crowds at weddings and the vows of eternal love exchanged between couples.
That is, until the moment he least liked arrived. Like clockwork, before Shane could respond, a voice cut through the noise.
“Hey, everybody, I’d like to take a moment to give a special thank you to someone who’s really gone above and beyond.”
Shane froze slightly. Rose whistled, clapped loudly, and nudged him, forcing him to focus his attention on where all eyes were. Shane already knew where this was going. Troy smiled as he looked out at the crowd, then fixed his gaze on him with a raised glass.
“The man who not only helped organize the entire day, but somehow managed to keep me from losing my mind in the process. He went with me to the caterer, the florist, the wedding cake bakery…and to more places than I can honestly remember without getting exhausted just thinking about it.”
A pause. Troy smiled again, softer this time, looking directly at him.
“So…thank you, Shane.”
The crowd erupted into applause.
Shane lifted a hand automatically, smiling in that practiced way that meant please stop looking at me. The sound did nothing to lessen the blush he knew colored his cheeks, and it certainly didn't help when Rose leaned towards him again.
“Wow, public emotional damage. Your favorite.”
“Shut up,” Shane muttered, forcing his smile to stay in place.
Then, the music shifted again, pulling the crowd’s attention back toward the center. Troy stepped forward, holding the bouquet high above his head, turning slightly as he looked out at the guests with a grin.
“Ready?!”
A few cheers answered him, mixed with laughter and scattered voices.
“Three…two…”
The crowd shifted almost immediately, bodies leaning forward, a few guests already half-stepping into position before he even finished.
“One!”
He tossed the bouquet. It rose cleanly at first, cutting through the air above the crowd.
In a calculated move, Shane watched it without really thinking about it, his expression neutral, like he had absolutely no emotional investment in what was about to happen.
Throwing the bouquet was, secretly, his favorite part of weddings. Shane knew it was cheesy and that actually catching some flowers didn't determine his future, but screw it. Every now and then, amidst all the precision he put into planning events, he could allow himself a little indulgence.
Part of what fueled that childish desire was that he had never caught it. Therefore, when it started coming its way, Shane reacted automatically, lifting his arms without really thinking about it, like catching it would be simple.
And, for a second, he almost had it.
Then the crowd shifted.
Someone knocked into Shane’s shoulder from the side while another guest moved directly in front of him, the sudden movement enough to throw him off balance completely.
“Wait—”
Too late. The bouquet slipped past his fingers as Shane stumbled backward with the sudden shift around him, one foot catching awkwardly against the edge of someone else's shoe.
And then, he went down. Hard. The back of his head hit the ground with a dull impact, enough to make his vision blur for a second. Noise swelled around him; music, voices, someone calling his name somewhere nearby—
Then everything faded out.
When Shane came back, everything was too bright. His head felt strangely heavy as the smell of flowers and champagne and distant laughter filtered back into his senses.
He blinked slowly, and the first thing Shane saw was a face leaning over him.
“Are you alive?” the man asked with a distinctive accent woven into a deep voice.
Shane stared at him for a second too long before answering.
“I think so.”
After a brief pause, Shane took the time to properly look at the man in front of him.
Blond hair, slightly messy with a few soft curls despite the clearly expensive suit he was wearing. Sharp features softened only by the faintest trace of mirth at the corner of his mouth. Even bent slightly over him, the man still looked tall, broad-shouldered, his presence filling the space around him and making Shane painfully aware of him.
He was extremely handsome. Shane couldn’t tell if it was the after-effect of hitting his head or if his face just genuinely looked that perfect up close.
“You just got taken out by at least four bridesmaids,” the man said, his tone carrying a faint hint of amusement.
Shane blinked slowly as he looked around. Some people were staring at him, but most had gone back to dancing or drinking happily.
“That sounds…about right.”
The man studied him for a second, still crouched in front of him.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” Shane said automatically.
There was no need to prolong the situation any longer than necessary; Shane felt fine. The man in front of him seemed to agree, exhaling lightly as if he found the whole thing comical, and extended his hand.
“Ilya.”
Shane hesitated, then took it.
“Shane.”
Ilya pulled him up with a surprising ease, keeping hold of his arm as Shane got to his feet. The moment Shane was upright, the ground seemed to shift under him as his vision wavered.
Ilya tightened his grip on his arm before he could stumble.
“Wow, easy.”
“I’m fine.” Shane blinked, trying to steady himself.
“You’re not fine,” Ilya replied.
Shane opened his mouth to argue, but Ilya was already straightening up, making the decision for him without hesitation.
“I’m getting us a taxi,” he said simply. “I’m taking you home.”
“That’s not n—” Shane started.
“It is,” Ilya cut in, calm but final.
He glanced once toward the exit of the reception. Shane had a second to pick up his things from the chair where he had left them, and then Ilya guided him with a steady hand at his elbow, steering him through the crowd toward the doors.
“You’re not going anywhere alone like this.”
Although Shane wanted to be grateful for the man's help, since the world still seemed unstable and he wasn't in a position to argue, his tone irritated him deeply.
Shane was perfectly capable of making his own decisions; it was what he did best. Who did Ilya think he was, dragging him along like that? If Rose saw Shane now, she'd either mock him or give him advice too obscene to even imagine.
When they left the building, the taxi from before was still parked outside. The driver signaled to him as soon as he saw him, and since he still owed him for the previous ride, Shane took advantage of the opportunity and decided to get in so he could take him home.
Like his shadow, Ilya guided him to the taxi until they were both inside.
“Is your night over? And is this the one you’re finally going to marry?” the driver said once Shane reluctantly gave him his address under Ilya’s watchful eye. “Nice catch.”
“Shut up and drive. And don’t even think I’m going to pay you what we agreed on.”
Shane heard the soft chuckle of the man beside him. As the car drove off and the silence between them stretched out, Shane glanced sideways at Ilya. His expensive suit was pricey for just an acquaintance's wedding, so he was probably close to Troy or Harris.
Ilya returned his gaze and smiled crookedly.
"I really liked your underwear."
"Excuse me?" Shane exclaimed at the casual tone of his voice. A blush crept across his face, and he was grateful for the darkness of the evening because he could hardly believe what he was hearing. "What the fuck?"
"I saw you changing in the taxi a little while ago."
Oh. In all the commotion, Shane hadn't noticed someone watching him.
"You were at two weddings, weren't you? I saw you wearing two different shirts and running around the whole time. It's a little upsetting, don't you think?" Ilya said, raising his eyebrows.
Shane noticed the expressiveness of his attractive face, a mesmerizing movement that made him shake his head to avoid staring. Even so, something in Ilya's tone made him frown.
"Both weddings were important. I had to be there."
"You had to? Is it your job?"
"No, but—"
"I understand. How do you cope? One wedding is a nightmare enough, I couldn't handle two."
Ilya made a noticeable gesture of disapproval, and Shane refrained from rolling his eyes.
A man who didn't believe in weddings wasn't unusual, but such comments weren't common around him. The people around him were used to Shane's opinion of them. Even Rose, with all her insidious remarks, respected an idea she knew was important to him.
“I love weddings,” Shane said, straightening up. “I always have.”
“Oh,” Ilya blinked, as if the idea were inconceivable. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“What’s your favorite part? The awful food, the annoying conversation, or the mediocre alcohol?”
That irritatingly mocking tone was back in Ilya’s voice, and Shane had the urge to get out of the taxi, but soon the vehicle turned onto the avenue and onto his street.
“Actually, it’s meeting upbeat people like you,” Shane muttered sarcastically. “What do you do for a living, are you an event planner or something?”
“I’m a writer.”
“A writer who doesn’t believe in weddings.”
“I’m just trying to point out the deceptiveness of the spectacle—wait, I can pay for—”
Shane didn’t let Ilya finish. He opened his bag, paid the driver, and patted him on the shoulder as he got out.
“Thanks for everything, man. Sorry it wasn’t the full amount we talked about, but you know what you did.”
The driver laughed, and Shane prepared to get out, but Ilya stopped him, putting his hand around Shane’s arm. He noticed the length of Ilya’s fingers and the size of his hand, but his voice soon distracted him.
“Do you really believe in that hypocritical ceremony between two people who are going to separate in two years?”
“Oh, that’s so noble of you. Do you also go around telling small children that Santa Claus doesn’t exist?”
Ilya raised his eyebrows quickly, a defiant glint in his eyes.
"So you admit that believing in marriage is kind of like believing in Santa Claus?”
“What? No! I-I don’t know why I’m arguing this with a complete stranger,” Shane exclaimed, feeling his cheeks flush with anger. He no longer wasted his time arguing with others about weddings, knowing that these days most people rejected the idea for a thousand reasons that didn’t interest him. “But yes, marriage, like everything good and important, isn’t easy.”
Ilya flashed a smile as if he had won the argument. Yeah, right, as if Shane would allow it.
“Cynicism, on the other hand, always is,” Shane declared, closing his bag and gathering his things. This time he opened the door and got out of the vehicle, giving Ilya one last cold look. “Bye.”
“It was very interesting meeting you!” he heard the man say, but Shane was already far enough away.
He wasn’t going to entertain an opinion so far removed from his reality any longer. What if a stranger at one of the many weddings Shane organized and attended didn't believe in marriage?
Shane would never see Ilya again, and his life could continue as usual.
As it turned out, neither of those things would happen.