Thomas looks out into the pouring rain.

They say its bad luck when it rains on your wedding. He says to no one in particular. His gray eyes surveyed the line of trees swaying to the brisk gale that seemed to grow stronger with each passing minute. The skies looked leaden as it sent down sheet upon sheet of fine rain that made everything pulsate with a drab silver sheen. He turns away from the window and peers into his reflection in the mirror. Just the right tails and tie, he notes, not without a hint of vanity. He straightens his tie just one more time, and he pushes a lock of hair back into place over his left eyebrow. He was glad he chose to shave off his beard; it made him feel oddly naked without the usual mass of facial hair he wore all year round, but it does go well with the tux. Well look whos gorgeous. He turns around and grins at the sound of his voice. Scott. Well, you dont look half as bad yourself, sport. Scott jumped unto the couch, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was dressed in an expensive but strangely fragile vintage coat for the wedding. He pulled a pair of cigars out of his breast pocket and threw one at Thomas. Oh Thom, you know I always dress better than you. And hes right. Ever since they were very young, Scott was always the one people wanted to fuck, for the lack of a better term. It sounds odd but even when they were teenagers, Scott was very much in demand. His raw sexuality coupled with that cocky attitude drew people to him like moths to a flame, and the worst part is, he knew it, which fed into his ego more and more, like some vicious little cycle of self-admiration Thomas found so appealing. He liked his company, and Scott always acted as if the feeling was mutual. Youre such a fag. Why do you have to rub everyones nose into it? Scott flips open his cigarette lighter and proceeds to start his cigar, taking special care to dart his tongue out and lick the end solicitously. He watches Thomas face crumple into a look of disgust and he laughs. You, my dear Thom, are much too straight to be interesting I like to rub your nose in it more than anyone else simply because I know it kills you inside that you cant have me. Im standing here about to get married, and you sit there like you dont want me to go through with it. Scott picks at his nails. Well, Sab is a nice girl, I wouldnt want to ruin her day by stealing her husband on her wedding day. Although Thom, to be perfectly honest, today would be a great day for it, picture it: you and me running off into the woods, drenched to the bone. To lie in the mud and make out until the sun comes out And we get sick of pneumonia. Yeah, thats a really romantic way to die, asshole. But at least well be together. Scott looks at him with heavy lidded eyes, and for a moment Thomas felt something akin to regret. Idiot. Help me straighten this tie.

Scott gets up and positions himself behind Thomas in front of the mirror. He reaches over from behind and gives his tie a slight pull. Thom? Yes? Scott tucked the tie neatly into the vest of his tux, taking care to smoothen out the lapels as he worked. I never said I was happy for you. I mean, for going through all of this. Do you know why? Thomas fixed his cufflinks, repeatedly turning the one on his left cuff around absent-mindedly. Yes. And I understand. As you do understand yourself. Scott resumed to smoothen out the creases on his tux and Thomas felt his hands against the fabric on his shoulders. I had hoped Well, its silly. Thomas turned around and faced Scott. You had hoped that I was that way? After all this time you idiot, you thought I was gay. Scotts face was a tangle of emotions. His eyes, normally cool and confident betrayed a look of profound sadness. He reached up and pushed a lock of Thomas hair back into place. Well, look at you! You certainly cant blame a fellow for trying.