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Okay, so, the thing.
The thing.
Thethingthethingthething.
The thing was …
…
Okay, so, the thing was … forget the thing for now. Cater really wanted to do this. Period. Like, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he wanted to walk down the aisle today and marry Riddle—he’d practically been dreaming about it since the first moment he’d laid eyes on the guy.
… Fine, that was actually super false, since the first time he’d met Riddle was back in NRC when he was just an incoming freshman-slash-Trey’s-insanely-adorable-but-control-freaky-childhood-friend who liked to boss people around and and and Cater liked being bossed around if the person telling him what to do was cute (not his sisters) and happened to puff their cheeks out a smidge when they were issuing orders with the authority of a newly-crowned Teapot Tyrant.
But the point still stood: Cater had wanted to marry Riddle for, like, a really long time. Since circa, he-barely-remembered-when. It was just something he felt in his bones, y’know? That Riddle was his person. The person he wanted to annoy forever. The person whose rules he wanted to break and follow and memorize, depending on the day and how cute Riddle looked glaring at him. The person who he used to shoo potential suitors away from at NRC ‘cause no one would reaaaaally actually be good enough for him (and o—obviously that’s what a nice senpai would do). The person who made “forever” sound less like a weird fever dream and more like, he didn’t know, a really exclusive tea party invite he had somehow been lucky enough to snag.
There was just … something Cater hadn’t totally told Riddle yet, and, ugh, it was really weighing down on him. And maybe thirty minutes before their wedding started wasn’t the greatest time to kinda-maybe-sorta consider telling him, but … also maaaaybe this was something Riddle needed to know before the two of them started a married life together?
Maybe.
Despite a part of his brain not one-hundred-percent endorsing the idea, Cater steeled his nerves before they could fray into irredeemable threads that could potentially unravel his, um, entire life. He nodded at Lilia and Kalim, who were helping him get ready. Kalim cocked his head curiously as he stirred an applicator in a kohl tube that he was planning to lightly rim Cater’s eyes with. Lilia, who was brandishing a straightening iron with zero skill and a lot of confidence, looked like he was about to say something, but Cater brightly cut him off.
“Be right back, guys,” he said, scooting out of the vanity chair. “I gotta tell Rids something real quick.”
As Cater opened the door, Lilia chuckled, “Khee hee hee, if you’re pregnant, Cater, you’re wise to tell him now.”
“Sevens, don’t manifest that,” Cater called over his shoulder. “Rids would probably start reciting a medical journal on proper prenatal-spouse care instead of his vows up there.”
“I think you’re onto something, though,” Cater, laughing, heard Kalim reply to Lilia as he stepped into the hall. “He does have that pregnancy glow. Or maybe it’s just because he’s a happy groom?”
Cater grinned at that. Well, he was a happy groom. No need to “press ‘X’ to doubt”. Just … ignore the pit in his stomach. Once he admitted the thing, it’d disappear, and he and Riddle could finally go from fiancés to husbands to annoyingly-in-love-older-couple-who-have-been-married-for-fifty-years. Man, his heart just got so full it could burst thinking about that. He could almost forget the guilt.
Too bad he was just the kindest person ever.
He walked down the hall toward the bridal suite that Riddle had won the rights to use in a riveting game of croquet (that Cater had totally let him win, by the way). The door was only a few steps away now, which meant Cater had, like, thirty seconds max to figure out if he was about to be the bravest, most emotionally mature version of himself or the dumbest groom alive. He was about to know when a disembodied head appeared in front of his face, its wide grin losing all familiarity when accompanied by a jumpscare.
“Nya-hello, Cater~”
Cater gasped so loud he was sure Kalim and Lilia had to have heard it from so many doors away. Clutching his chest, Cater panted, “Okay, Che’nya, new wedding present idea: you not scaring the freaking bejeezus out of me, like, ever again.” Besides, wasn’t he supposed to be inside the suite? With Trey? Helping Riddle get ready?
“Hummm-hum-hummm,” Che’nya pretended (purrtended) to muse as the rest of his body materialized. “I’ll think about it. Inside out and backward, even. Maybe between a catnap or two.” Pushing off the wall, he began to circle Cater with both hands behind his head. “Looking for someone? The groom? I hear there are two this time, heh heh heh.”
Cater rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Wow, nothing gets past you! Super glad RSA’s finest alum is here to solve the mystery of the guy in wedding clothes looking for the other guy in wedding clothes.”
“A husband-to-be on the prowl for his husband-to-be. Is there anything more romantic? Less than a flamingo serenading a hedgehog under a Wensleydale moon, of course, but still.”
A flamingo serenading a hedgehog under a Wensleydale moon? That was actually a good questio—wait, no, he had zero time for this. The clock was ticking, and he had to talk to Riddle. “Um, nope, can’t think of anything!”
Che’nya shook his head. “Exactly. Well, good luck to you on talking to Riddle, though! They say he’s guarded by his most loyal card soldier. Why, I’m standing, all humdrum, out here ‘cause he kicked me out when I knocked a cushion blush off the edge of the counter!” Doing a really good impression of a wounded soldier, Che’nya continued, “As if I was supposed to help myself! It was going to fall, anyway! I just offered a little assistance!”
Before Cater could ask how Che’nya knew the blush was gonna fall, Acey and Deucy—ushers extraordinaire—called Che’nya’s name from down the hall. Che’nya perked up, gave Cater a little salute, and wandered off. Which left Cater alone again, right in front of the bridal suite door.
Ack, he was down to twenty-eight minutes now. Maybe he should just bail? No, that was lame and pathetic and also not his brand. Riddle deserved to know. The thing was the thing was the thing was heavy, and Cater wanted to be lighter than a raven’s feather today. He raised his fist and knocked twice on the door. The sound reverberated through the hall like a bell. Oooh, like a wedding bell.
The door opened a few seconds later, and Trey stood on the other side, one hand still on the handle. His expression was flat, like he’d expected Che’nya to try round two.
Then he blinked, realized that it was Cater on the other end, and said, “Oh. Hey, Cater.” His golden eyes sparkled. “How’re you holding up?”
Cater gave him two thumbs up, ‘cause obviously that was more convincing than just one. Significantly less cool, though. “Great! Super great. So great that I might go viral on Magicam for being the most great anyone’s ever been.” He felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. “Can I talk to Riddle for a sec? Alone?”
Trey’s eyebrows rose, and Cater felt himself withering kinda like one of the roses at the end of the maze back in Heartslabyul that everyone forgot to water. “Okaaaaay,” Trey said finally. He stepped aside, but as Cater passed him, Trey’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t mess this up.”
Cater gulped. “I’m, like, actively trying not to.”
For a second, Trey only looked at him. Then his hand landed on Cater’s shoulder and squeezed. “And don’t get lip gloss all over his face. You two have to be seen by a crowd in a few minutes.”
Cater gaped at him, before a laugh slipped out of his mouth. “You know that I try to keep it on his lips, right?”
“Yeah, and somehow he winds up with gloss on his jaw, down his throat, and on his collarbone, and you guys always arrive looking really disheveled.”
Fair. Cater held up both hands. “I’ll be the goodest, I swear.”
Trey didn’t look convinced, but he let him through anyway.
The bridal suite was all white and gold, ‘cause apparently the venue thought all the brides who’d ever used this room shared the same taste in everything. Riddle stood at the vanity, fussing with his tie in the mirror, his brows drawn together like the knot had personally violated three rules.
Cater stopped in the doorway.
Oh.
Wow.
Riddle looked—ugh. Maddeningly. Gorgeous. So neat and red-faced and focused that Cater’s chest did three consecutive somersaults.
“Trey, if Che’nya attempts to enter again, please inform him that—” Riddle turned and froze. Then he went so scarlet, it was hard to tell where his hair ended and where his skin began. “Cater! Are we allowed to see each other?”
Cater laughed, stepping inside. “Preeeeetty sure I’m allowed to look at the guy I’m marrying.”
“T—that’s not—”
“You look really good, Rids.”
Riddle’s mouth snapped shut, and his gray eyes softened. He went from red to pink and then averted his gaze. “You,” he said shyly, “look very good as well.”
Cater almost died. Right there. RIP Cater Diamond, taken out by one compliment and a fiancé in a tie.
And yet … he still had the thing.
So Cater shut the door behind him and forced himself to smile a little less.
“Hey,” he said. “Before we do the whole married-forever bit, there’s something I should probably tell you.”
Riddle’s expression dropped. “I see,” he said, and swallowed. “Then I suppose now is as good a time as any.”
Cater blinked. “For me to tell you something?”
“Yes. Of course. Naturally.” Riddle’s fingers tightened around the end of his tie. “Especially since we haven’t signed the marriage licenses yet.”
Cater raised an eyebrow. “Uh. Why’s that super relevant all of a sudden?”
Riddle was suddenly very interested in the marbling of the vanity. “Because I made a few minor adjustments to the wording.”
Obviously.
“Like?”
“All in accordance with Queendom of Roses law,” Riddle said quickly. “Which I have been actively studying, as you well know, so there is no need to worry about legal validity.”
Just in case you were wondering, that was totally exactly what Cater was worried about. “So, um, what kinda adjustments?” he asked.
Riddle stared very hard at his fingernails. “Minor ones.” He held up his ring finger, where the shiny engagement ring Cater had proposed to him with glinted, to the light. “Ones that ensure you can’t simply leave whenever you please,” Riddle muttered in a voice that was barely audible. “N—not that I think you would. I merely thought it would be prudent to have it in writing.”
For a second, Cater just stared. But then he burst out laughing, ‘cause, sevens, that was just so cute. “Wow. Sooo, no return policy, I’m guessing?”
Riddle’s blush deepened. “Precisely.”
“That’s kinda smart, actually.” Cater stepped closer, his chest feeling weirdly lighter already. “But, uh, good news? My thing isn’t that serious. I think.”
“Oh? Do tell, then.”
Cater smiled at that. Sevens, where should he start? He remembered the day like it was yesterday.
Back then, Cater had been a junior, slumped at a library table with Trey on one side and Riddle across from the two of them. The green lamps made Trey and Cater’s internship forms look cheerier than they had any right to, considering Cater’s brain was actively rejecting every piece of info the headmage had dumped on them earlier that day.
“Ugh,” Cater groaned, letting his head tip back over the chair. “I don’t know what I want to dooo. Why can’t I just marry someone with a high-powered job and be a kept man?”
Trey opened his mouth, probably to say something super vice-housewarden-y about ambition.
Riddle beat him to it. “I have to finish law school first,” he said, completely serious.
Cater lifted his head. Cute. “Ha! Okay,” Cater said, psyched that Riddle was actually playing along. “I’ll get a soulless office job to support you through school, and, after you graduate, we’ll switch.”
Riddle’s eyes lit up. “Okay!”
Still joking. Totally joking. Cater was, like, ninety-eight percent sure. So, obviously, he kept going. “Don’t you dare dump me for someone younger and hotter once you’re rich, though, Rids.”
“Never,” Riddle said at once.
Cater laughed, ‘cause making Riddle light up like that felt weirdly awesome, and he was so adorable when he committed to a bit.
At least, Cater had thought it was a bit.
Really important distinction.
Which Cater made explicitly clear when he rehashed all of it to Riddle.
Riddle went still, horrified. His voice was so shrill that it might’ve cracked the glass on the mirror if it wasn’t magically-reinforced or something. “You thought I was joking?”
Cater winced. “Kinda, yeah.”
“Then why,” Riddle said, voice climbing to an impossible octave, “when I texted you two years later to inform you that I had begun pre-law and asked when you wished to move in together, did you say ‘yes?’”
Riiiight.
Cater rubbed the back of his neck. “Sheer awkwardness? Like, super powerful sheer awkwardness.” Riddle choked on air. “I was in the Shaftlands staring at my phone like, wow, this is either the boldest long-con joke ever or Rids has been operating on a completely different rulebook than me.” Riddle’s mouth dropped open.
“But!” Cater said quickly. “I was gonna tell you when I came to the Queendom. I really was. I was gonna show up, say, ‘Hey, so, small whoopsie, I may have accidentally fake-engaged myself to you,’ and then we’d laugh. Or you’d collar me. Fifty-fifty.” Cater swallowed hard and, softly, he said, “But then you spent the whole day with me. You showed me around. You were all excited about your classes and your apartment and where the tea tins and skateboard racks went, and I realized I wasn’t, like … trapped. I liked being there. I liked being with you.”
He grinned, more than a little sheepishly. “So I moved in. Got the most boring salaryman job known to mankind. Supported my future lawyer husband like a champ.” He shrugged. “And then, y’know. The rest is kinda for real and for true and just … us. No bits, no riffs from there on out. I didn’t have to ‘go along with anything’, ‘cause I actually, y’know …” His own cheeks felt warm, ‘cause, uh, sap alert. This was the kinda stuff people said in front of a crowd and before a wedding arch. Okay, sure, he’d said much sappier things to Riddle before, but, somehow, this felt rawer? “Um, seriously fell head over heels in love with you. And definitely would’ve still found a way to be even without the whole … ‘getting our wires crossed’ thing.”
For a second, Riddle didn’t say anything.
Which was, like, terrifying. Lowkey, Cater would’ve preferred yelling. ‘Cause otherwise it was just Riddle standing there, eyes lowered, clearly sorting every single thing Cater had said into neat little boxes and trying to cross-examine what they meant.
Sophomore-year Riddle might’ve exploded. Like, full on crashed out with a dozen “Off with Your Head”s shouted at a room that only had one other occupant. Cater had never been collared, but he guessed today would’ve been his first time.
But this Riddle just breathed in. And then out. And then however many times his therapist had told him to. “So,” he said carefully, “when you moved in with me, you were not entirely aware that we were, in my understanding, engaged.”
Cater winced. “Yep.”
“But you stayed. You took that dreadful office job.” When Cater nodded, he continued, “And you and I spent two years together before agreeing to be wed.”
Cater’s heart lightened almost imperceptibly. “Yeah.”
Riddle looked up at him then, still pink. “Then I suppose the beginning was … unconventional.” He nodded. “But the rest was not false.”
“No,” Cater said, immediately and eerily-reminiscent of a certain redhead’s emphatic assertion all those years ago. “No way. Never.”
Riddle studied him for another second, and then his shoulders loosened. “Good,” Riddle said gently. “Because I love you. And you love me. And we have proven that to each other many times over.” Cater let the relief wash over him like a … cooling stream. Or something. Riddle’s mouth twitched. “You are certain, then, that you are not marrying me out of sheer awkwardness?”
Cater laughed and pulled him close by the waist. “Rids, I proposed to you, remember?”
Riddle’s smile finally broke through. “You did.”
“On purpose.”
“That’s … reassuring.”
Cater kissed him before he could help it.
The door opened approximately half a second later.
Trey gasped. “Cater.”
Cater, without looking away from Riddle, lifted one foot and gently nudged the door shut again.
“I won’t get much lip gloss on him,” he called.
Riddle made a strangled sound against his mouth.
Trey, from the hall, sounded pained. “That’s not what you promised.”
Fine, yeah. But with Riddle in his arms, his gray eyes gleaming sweetly and happily, on their wedding day, he kinda had bigger promises to keep in mind.