Metanoia // George Ezra Fanfic

Snow Lake

I have lived two lives in my twenty-three years. One before George. One after George.

Before George, my life was full of wonder, curiosity, pain, growth, learning, and confusion. In review, it was a wondrous time of youth, a time of stumbling and falling, of staggering betrayal, of love and loyalty. Everything that life is meant to hold in its inception. There were cycles of joy, and of long-suffering. The joy was welcome, and although I tried to face the suffering head on, I frequently found that I didn't want to suffer for very long - and I actually didn't want to suffer at all, truth be told.

Then, there was George. Sometimes fate takes you by the hand or nudges you towards your destiny. Other times it pushes you in front of a moving car. George was the stillness in the middle of my young chaos. The eye in the center of the storm, so to speak. That was clear from the moment we first met.

My life has continued to be full of learning, growth, and wonder, thanks to George. There has still been pain, confusion, and the occasional fall. But I've always known George would be there to comfort, assist, and catch me. He has been my anchor. Some days he has been the only person to keep me sane. I hope that never changes. On those days that I'm not at my best, I hope that George remains the stillness. The constant. More than this, I hope on the days that George feels the world's chaos around him, that he can find that stillness in me.

I pause, taking a deep breath and feeling the crisp, mountain air fill my aching lungs. The hike to the top of Snow Lake wasn't that long, but between the altitude and my general lack of experience in backpacking, the hike sucked the energy right out of me. I am making myself be as productive as possible though.

I am getting married tomorrow, after all.

Snow Lake was George's suggestion. His idea was to hike up to this stunning location and have our ceremony performed here, with only our closest friends. The intimate wedding would take place right where I sat, overlooking a lake that was a natural color of slate, but reflected the sky in a way that was so much like a mirror that it would have been nearly impossible to tell where the lake stopped and the sky started. That is, if it weren't for the vast mountains that spread across the horizon, looking similar to shadowy, sleeping dragons. The mossy pine trees and cedars looked like very realistic, spindly wings and scales.

The setting is more romantic than I could have imagined. George has gone to so much effort and pain to ensure that the ambiance will be nothing short of perfect for the big day. A small cake would be delivered specially tomorrow, which is an amazing feat in and of itself, since we are about six miles away from any sort of trailhead. Behind me, I can hear the quiet noises of my various friends and family members setting up a medium sized tent, where we will be having a sunset dinner tomorrow. Fairy lights will be hung from inside the standard, white tent.

Everyone here will be camping in tents tonight as well. George and I were practically ordered to sleep in different tents. Jessica wouldn't hear of anything else.

"After all," she reminded us (about a hundred times during our many planning sessions), "It's traditional! It'll be much better this way!"

Jessica has been very involved in the wedding planning. She was dying to do it, and George and I both knew that. For fear that she would be offended if we didn't allow her to assist in planning the wedding, we handed her the reins on quite a few things. I think she really loved that our wedding was quite a bit more complicated than even hers had been.

It was to be a perfect adventure of a wedding.

George comes up behind me, trying to peer at the notebook in my lap, saying quietly, "What are you doing over here, sweetheart?"