Every Single Thing I Touch || HeartLiming "Moonlight Chicken"

30. Happily Ever After

The ending is here! Before you guys start crying, let me tell you that there will be an additional chapter for the wild ones (smut), but this could pretty much be a complete ending. However that said, "Every Single Thing I Touch (Becomes Sick With Sadness)" has finally come to an end.

Disclaimer: I researched on weddings since I know jackshit about it. There might be many mistakes and I didn't consult any professional on this. But I did search online and honestly, it's all so confusing. Ignore the absurdity of this and just enjoy the story, okay?

"Look in the mirror; you're beautiful, so beautiful. I'm here to remind you, you're my only one, let me be the one. To heal all the pain that he put you through, with love like you never knew; just let me show you. What if I fall? (I won't let you fall). What if I cry? (I'll never make you cry). And if I get scared? (I'll hold you tighter). When they're tryna get to you, baby, I'll be the fighter"

—Keith Urban ft. Carrie Underwood, "Fighter"

Liming hated weddings.

He hated the spectacle of it all—people dressing in their finest for just a few hours, smothering their faces with makeup until they looked like pale imitations of themselves, drenching in perfumes so strong they could choke the air. All for the sake of looking 'presentable' for a fleeting moment. And then, like clockwork, they'd swarm the newlyweds, throwing out insincere congratulations, empty words wrapped in forced smiles. Once the party was over, they'd go home and gossip, picking apart the couple, their families, or distant relatives they hadn't seen in years. It was all so fake, so shallow, a charade people put on just to fit in.

It was ridiculous.

No, more than ridiculous—it was infuriating. The sheer stupidity of it had made him grit his teeth or roll his eyes. At least, that's what he thought back then, when he was young, cynical, and naïve to what love could really mean.

In stark contrast, Night adored weddings. He loved everything about them—the vibrant decorations, the endless spread of food, the contagious joy that filled the air. Night would be the life of the party, twirling their mother around the dance floor while Liming hid away at the buffet table, piling his plate high with delicacies, avoiding the social whirl at all costs. He remembered one wedding in particular—North's cousin's. Liming had slipped away, hidden himself in a closet to escape the chatter and laughter that felt too loud, too much. He could still hear Night calling his name, searching for him all over the venue. Liming might've stayed hidden too, if it weren't for the tiny legs of a spider crawling over his hand, sending him bolting from his hiding spot. Maybe that's where his fear of spiders started—right there in that dark, dusty closet.

Liming had plenty of shortcomings, more than he cared to admit. He hated weddings. He hated spiders, balloons, and thunderstorms. But most of all, he hated jealousy—and right now, he was seething.

The makeup artist they met was almost annoyingly handsome, with a self-assured charm that set Liming on edge. He moved confidently, running his hands over Heart's shoulders, tilting his face, and pressing his palms against Heart's cheeks, all the while showering him with compliments. Sure, Heart was handsome—more than handsome, with his golden tan skin that seemed to glow under the soft lighting. The makeup artist couldn't seem to stop gushing about it.

Liming's eyes narrowed when the artist leaned in, close—too close—to examine Heart's eyes.
"Grey specks!" the artist gasped, stepping back dramatically before turning to his team. "I've never seen grey specks in black eyes before. So, so pretty!"

Liming clenched his jaw. Yeah, those pretty eyes would be sporting black specks soon if this guy didn't stop touching his fiancé.

"Oh," Heart stammered, clearly flustered, his cheeks turning a shade of pink that Liming didn't particularly like. "Thank you."