Milou was nearing his second trimester when he and Wren got married. He was four months pregnant and just barely started to show a little baby bump underneath a perfectly fitted white tuxedo.
Saliou wasn't sure if it's the pregnancy hormones doing their magic, but his brother looked ever so stately, handsome, striking and beautiful, all at once, on his wedding day.
Meanwhile, Wren complemented his groom's outfit with a dark tuxedo that was obviously tailored specifically for him. It fit him like a second skin, and he looked stunning in it. The smile he had on that day was a practiced thing – that much Saliou knew. But it was still charming as hell.
The couple agreed to have a small, private wedding. Nothing too extravagant. They sent out invitations to no more than twenty people. Besides the immediate family, they invited a few other close relatives on both sides.
It was Milou who finalized the venue for the wedding and reception. He decided to have it right at the lake - a scenic spot that was literally right in the Dumont family's backyard.
The weather forecast the day of the wedding was for partly cloudy skies. In other words, perfect for an outdoor wedding.
For the most part, the nuptial went off without a hitch; everyone and everything in the appropriate order. The reception was held on a beautifully decorated deck facing the lake, in all its floral splendor. It was half past 7 in the evening and the ambience was charged with the fragrance of intimacy, guests moving to and fro with a single purpose – to make the day special for the newly married couple.
The evening banquet buzzed with excited chatter. Few minutes later, the grooms entered, and applause spread across the venue. There were scraping of chairs and tables as the guests got up to acknowledge their arrival. Wren and Milou made their way to the centerpiece table, beaming at everyone as they passed.
After the appropriate number of speeches, toasts, glass clinking, and thank-you's, the music commenced, and Wren and Milou went around to mingle with the guests.
But while most of the guests were standing around on the foredeck congratulating the newly wedded couple, Saliou had stayed in the background. He offered polite smiles and handshakes when asked, but for the most part, he stayed as far away from the crowd as possible.
It took a lot of convincing from his parents to show up at the wedding. He didn't want such a special day to get sidetracked by drama, and his presence alone could cause quite a stir. After all, it was no secret that, just a few months ago, he was dating Wren Dumont. Milou's pregnancy wasn't so clandestine, either.
He had originally planned to leave after the nuptial. But he figured that was the coward's way out. Why should he worry about what other people think? It was his own brother's wedding! Besides, things would have seemed more awkward without him.
Or so he thought.
Now, as he leaned up against the bar with a glass of banana daiquiri, he realized it might have been a better idea to have not shown up at all. On top of having to endure the strange glances and curious looks of other guests, he had to go through this endearing sight before him and pretend he wasn't affected.
If this is karma in the works, Saliou had to wonder what grave sin he'd committed in his previous life. He didn't deserve this kind of punishment. Watching his one true love married to someone else – and to his own brother at that – was too much of an emotional abuse.
He could only endure so much heartache.
Saliou had already changed into a more casual attire and a comfortable pair of boots. He'd had enough of the suit and all the formal photo op, and was glad to finally be able to unwind.
But if he really wanted to let loose, he needed more than just a daiquiri. He needed something much stronger.
Saliou gulped down the cocktail and ordered himself a bottle of whiskey. The bartender poured him out a shot, but Saliou downed it quickly.
"Do you want another drink?" The bartender asked.
Saliou looked up at him. His eyes told the other it wasn't a good idea to give him a difficult time.
The bartender chuckled. "The night's still young."
"And so am I," replied Saliou as he reached across the bar and snatched the nearly full bottle of whiskey out of the bartender's hand.
Saliou was taking straight shots of whiskey without even bothering to sip at it. His emotions were going haywire, an inexplicable sense of misery surging through his veins.
He didn't know how he felt about the whole situation anymore. The past few months, he thought of Wren breaking off the engagement and running away with him instead. But it was nothing more than just a thought now. This wedding had destroyed the last vestige of hope he had left. He could never be with Wren. Not in this lifetime.
He wanted to hurt someone. Someone must pay for his pain.
He turned his eyes back to Milou. He looked like he was in his element, chatting and laughing with others with such charm and ease.
Saliou hated Milou. He hated his own brother. He hated him with such passion. He hated him for what he had done and for what he was doing to him now.
But the thing that made it hurt the worst is that, deep down, Saliou's love for his brother still fought back against that hatred.
He hated his brother because he loved him – would always love him.
Saliou forced his eyes to look away from Milou. He looked at the bottle in his too-tight grip instead. He decided that he had been ignoring the whiskey in his hand long enough. He tipped the bottle back and took two huge gulps. He hoped the whiskey would relieve the pain he felt in his heart. It burned his throat on its way down, but he welcomed the sensation.
He began to feel more relaxed now but hoped he wouldn't feel anything more than this. He didn't want to do anything crazy like go up to the newlywed couple and say something he would deeply regret later on.
As Saliou contemplated on this, he realized his eyes had inadvertently wandered back to the deck, this time staring at Wren. Their eyes met and Saliou froze. It was too late to look away now, so Saliou nodded to the other in greeting and managed a half smile.
Wren's lips barely formed a smile in response. There was a look of concern in his eyes. For a moment, his gaze moved to the whiskey bottle in Saliou's hand, and then back to his face. He shook his head warningly.
Who are you to stop me from doing what I want?
Saliou scoffed as he tore his eyes off Wren, then took another big gulp of the whiskey in deliberate defiance.
The next thing he knew, Wren was coming down from the deck, approaching him slowly, almost warily, probably as self-conscious as he was. Saliou frowned and shook his head, holding up a hand as if to tell the other to keep his distance.
Saliou reached for the empty shot glass but before he could get it, a strong, masculine hand snatched it away. He turned a withering look on the culprit and found himself coming face-to-face with two of his least favorite people in the world.
Mason Dumont poured himself a shot of whiskey and downed the entire glass in one gulp. "Saliou Matisse, I didn't take you for a hard drinker!" He offered the glass back to Saliou, who only glared at him.
Asshole. Saliou set the glass down angrily on the table, then turned his gaze back to Wren who just stood in place, stupidly staring back at him. For what seemed like a very long time, they stood staring at each other, neither knowing what to expect.
But the earnestness in Wren's gaze didn't work on Saliou this time. He was starting to become immune to it. Wren must have sensed that because he was the first to relent. Saliou didn't break their stare, but took a swift little breath as he watched Wren turn around and made his way back to the foredeck.
Saliou shifted his attention back to the elder Dumont brothers, who stood either side of him, facing away from the bar. The look in their eyes and the color of their nose, now red as a beet, suggested that they were already fairly inebriated. Yet they're not the only ones with flushed faces. Saliou himself was already feeling lightheaded and his stomach was burning.
He figured Mason and Noah Dumont would make better companies compared to anyone else in that party. And even if they're the biggest jerks in town, they could help take Saliou's mind off Milou and Wren.
"This might just be the first time we've seen you alone like this," Noah remarked as he reached for the whiskey bottle in Saliou's hand, poured himself a shot, and drank it straight.
Saliou forced a laugh. "Well, you better get used to it now that those two got hitched," he replied as he pointed to Wren and Milou without looking in their direction. He'd drunk a fair amount of liquor now, and the whiskey seemed to make him talkative.
Mason leaned back with his elbows on the bar then looked at Saliou with a puzzled, concerned expression. "Don't be too hard on yourself, Saliou," he said in a low voice. "Noah and I feel just as bad about this. In fact, we were against this."
Saliou's brows furrowed in a scowl. "What do you mean?"
Mason curled his lips and shrugged his shoulders. "You know... this whole idea of a shotgun wedding. I mean, who would've thought, right?"
Taking a deep breath, Saliou tried his best not to curse. Barely a couple minutes in and they're already beginning to get on his nerves.
Noah leaned closer to Saliou, his elbows on the edge of the bar. "That day, when the elders called a meeting to discuss the matter about the pregnancy, those two showed up looking like wet puppies." He grunted through his nose, trying to hold back laughter.
"When the elders decided they had to get married, I was the first to tell them to reconsider," Mason contended. "On top of it being a heat-induced pregnancy, Milou is..." He hesitated a moment, then continued, "Milou's recessive. We know how frail a recessive's body is. And... just look at him now. His health has been very delicate since."
Saliou's fingers curled tight around his glass. He filled himself another shot of the hard liquor and downed it, letting it blaze sharply down his throat. He set the glass down hard and reached for the bottle to refill it.
"Let's face it," Mason added, completely unaware of Saliou's dark and brooding expression, "most recessives suffer a miscarriage. What if, god forbid, that happens to Milou? Then this whole marriage would be pointless."
"We suggested that they should put the wedding on hold at least until Milou enters his final trimester, when there won't be any more serious complications. Or better yet, hold it off until he gives birth," explained Noah.
Saliou propped his elbows on the bar and pressed his fingers against his forehead. He listened wordlessly to the brothers' whole charade, although he was now close to a boiling point.
He flinched when Mason slid closer to him and sympathetically put a hand on his upper arm, gently squeezing it.
"Listen, Saliou, we know Wren still loves you. If not – If not for this pregnancy... I'm sure that would be you standing over there beside Wren, and not your brother."
Saliou gritted his teeth and lowered his head.
Insensitive pricks!
Finally sensing the growing animosity about to be directed at him, Mason backed up and loosened his grip on Saliou's arm. "L-Listen, I didn't mean to sound harsh towards your brother but – " He was abruptly silenced when Saliou downed the whiskey and slammed the glass to the counter.
The whiskey bottle was half empty now. Saliou held it firmly as he poured himself another drink. At this point, he could no longer tell how many shots he's had, but each drink seemed like a better and better idea. It made him a whole lot bolder. Angrier.
Clearly, he's getting past the point of merely tipsy.
"Three things," Saliou said in a slurred voice as he raised three wobbly fingers. "Firstly, Milou is my brother. I know... I know this shit sucks. It sucks big time. But Milou... he's still my brother." He glared at Mason. "You hear me now? So I don't want you badmouthing him right in front of me. Show me some respect, for fuck's sake." He swallowed the whiskey in one gulp, poured another big shot, then raised two fingers. "Secondly, Milou... is your brother-in-law. Whether you like it or not, he's part of your family now. I don't want you treating him like some piece of shit. And... if I hear so much as a slander, I... will fucking scalp you." He struggled to keep his voice on an even pitch. He coughed as he tried to gulp down another shot.
Mason swallowed hard as he watched Saliou pour himself another glass of whiskey, spilling some on the counter in the process. "Sa – Saliou, I think you've had enough for –"
"Thirdly!" Saliou cut him off as he raised three fingers with even less coordination. "I don't... want to have anything to do... with your family. Whatever was... between me and Wren... is all in the past now. The past, you hear me? So stop... stop patronizing me. The last thing – " He paused as he tried to swallow through the choking rings clamping his throat from the inside out. "The last thing I want... from you people... is your pity. Because... fuck your pity." He downed his last shot for the night, finally declaring himself disgustingly drunk and liable to throw up.
As a final gesture, he poured another glass of whiskey and slid it over to Mason. "Cheers to the newlyweds!" he said, words barely understandable and running together. And then, he slowly dragged himself away from the bar, taking the whole bottle of whiskey with him.
Mason and Noah watched in stunned silence as Saliou swayed unsteadily, head lolling from side to side as if the effort to keep himself upright was too much to bear.
That was the first and last time they'd seen Saliou drunk. And in the process, learned what happens if they were to blow his fuse.
Clearly, a drunk and enraged Saliou Matisse is not to be messed with.
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