fly | madderton

EIGHT

Taron looked over himself once again in the bathroom mirror, and couldn't quite believe what was happening.

Today was the day.

"T?" There was a knock on the door. "Are you nearly dressed?"

"Yeah, I'm done. You can come in, if you like."

Taron's gaze shifted in the mirror as the bathroom door was pushed open and a beaming Charlie stepped in, armed with a hairbrush and a comb.

"How do I look?" Taron asked, bringing a smile to his own face as he gave his friend a spin.

"Good. Crazy good." Charlie grinned, standing in front of his friend and starting to fiddle with his hair, "If you weren't about to marry my best friend, I'd be tempted to marry you myself."

Taron could only smile wider at that, gently pulling at his grey velvet jacket when he had a chance to glance over at the mirror. He started to move his lips, but was cut off by Charlie's voice.

"Before you start, you look amazing. And Dicky does too. Honestly, you'll be proud of me."

Charlie had taken charge of organising their outfits, so that neither man knew what the other was wearing. They'd whined about it at first, but it had definitely become part of the fun. How much choice Richard had over his own outfit, Taron didn't know. He'd picked out the jacket himself when they visited the tailor and let Charlie decide the rest of his outfit, and he would have felt bad if Richard was forced into a matching suit against his own wishes.

He was dying to find out how the other man was dressed.

"Thanks, Charlie... I'm so nervous." Taron laughed a little, looking up at his friend. It felt good to finally admit it, like he was expelling some of his nervous energy in doing so.

"Don't be, T. You look amazing, and so does your man. But, there is a bottle of Jack in my bag, if you need a little extra reassurance."

Taron laughed again, wrapping Charlie in a hug (much to the other man's protest, he wailed something about the suits). "Thanks, mate. You're the best, come on.."

He led the way out of the bathroom and back into the hotel room, making a beeline for Charlie's bag.

"It's just on the top," Charlie said, glancing at his phone, "We need to be downstairs, in a few minutes. Jamie and Richard have gone already."

"Hurry up, then." Taron grinned, cracking open the lid and having a short swig from the bottle. He pulled a face, shaking his head before holding the bottle out towards Charlie, who took a much more graceful sip. "Since when did you become a whisky drinking expert?"

Charlie shrugged, handing the bottle back to Taron for him to screw on the cap and put it back in the bag. A teasing grin tugged at his lips as he turned to adjust his suit in the mirror beside them. "I'm not. I reckon you're just weak."

Taron laughed again, turning to face Charlie once more. "Do I look okay?"

"Beautiful, T. Lets get going."

———

Richard could feel the nerves tightening in his stomach as he followed Jamie up the stairs. He didn't have the slightest clue where they were going, for his mind was working overdrive and had decided there was no room for directions.

He was stunning, in a deep blue velvet jacket with black silk lapels, but he felt silly. It was the middle of the day, not some formal evening dinner. His anxious mood spiked when they rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, and spotted Taron's parents stood outside of a large, imposing looking door.