— Chapter 69 —
Black Sheep

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E L L I O T

'FOUR' was Noah's version of a practical joke.

I couldn't believe it.

He'd put me through all that pain. He built up so much anticipation as to what my tattoo could be, just for a few black letters that spelled out 'FOUR'. 

He could've marked my lips with anything, and he picked four.

Why four? I'd wondered in the mirror this morning, as my lips went sore from how long I'd been holding them open. Because of his other tattoos? Or did he care more about freaking me out instead?

If it was the latter, great—because karma had come in all her glory, and Noah was sick again. Apparently sitting shirtless out in the cold all night could do that to you. Who knew.

The sounds of him coughing and sniffling woke me up in the early morning. Tossing and turning on his side of the bed all night, he got up twice for the sole reason of stretching his legs, only to sweat himself awake once he finally got to sleep.

Delirious fever or not, he left the apartment before the first beams of sunlight flickered in through the curtains—probably to pick up Chains, who'd spent what I imagined was an equally restless night at the police station. I hadn't seen Noah since.

"Are you sure this looks alright?"

Three times I'd asked James that question this afternoon. Getting us ready for his brother's wedding, he'd invited me to his palatial loft in the inner city to have me try on some suits he'd chosen for me. To be honest, I was too distracted by my surroundings to pay enough attention to anything I was wearing.

James' residence was unlike anything I'd imagined it would look like. It was on the top floor of a building made of glassy windows and marble floors. Once we passed the extensive front desk on the lower level, he led me into his loft, which was somehow even more grand. Pristine white walls held away a coffered ceiling, from which glittering light fixtures and chandeliers hung. A marble-embellished fireplace stood opposite a glass coffee table and deep-grey sofas. Floating stairs of black stone led to the upper level, which I could only glimpse peeks of through glass balustrades.

Everything I touched felt like money that I'd never have such an abundance of.

"Turn around," mused James. Leaning against the back of his sofa with his lips hidden behind a flawless hand, he watched me adjust the cuffs to a suit shirt he'd picked out for me.

Dropping my arms to my sides, I drew in a breath and made a full rotation. James tilted his head to make his judgment.

"It's the jacket, isn't it?" I worried. Brushing the silky fabric of the black suit jacket, I craned my neck to see the back of it. "It's too much, right?"

"How does it make you feel?" He asked instead. "Too tight?"

I admitted, "The sleeves aren't giving me much room. I feel like a poorly dressed mannequin."

James, on the other hand, looked like he was made for the clothes he was wearing. Made of black cashmere and fully bespoke without doubt, his tuxedo fitted his figure faultlessly. Silver cufflinks sat at the ends of his white sleeves. A black bow tie was sharp around his neck, while my reflection shimmered in the leather of his polished loafers.

He chuckled and stood up to hold onto the back of my collar. Relieved, I pulled my arms out from the mound of black fabric, immediately less warm and much more comfortable. Turning back on my heel, I brushed down the slim-fitting ebony vest around my torso and made sure the silver pin on my tie was sitting properly. If James was going out of his way to loan me the suit, I at least planned to look decent in it.

"I think you look fine like this," James remarked as he folded my jacket over the sofa, obsidian eyes showing more joy than his smiles ever did. "Nice to see I haven't lost my sense of fashion. We can ditch the jacket—I guess I underestimated how tall you've gotten."

I gave him a teasing look. "Still... just fine?"

"Fine for now," he clarified, "but something's missing."

I watched him reach into the pocket of his creaseless black trousers. When his hand emerged again, his fingers were entangled in a silk ribbon the color of emeralds—the same color as the pocket square in his wool jacket.

"What's this for?" I murmured.

James took a step behind me and pulled free the band which had been loosely holding back my hair.

"My brother asked that we all have something green with us to fit the theme of the wedding." He brushed my earrings out of the way to gently sweep the top half of my hair back. Weaving the emerald ribbon under the part, he tied it into my hair until a green bow was sitting securely at the back of my head. "Fitting that green goes so well with your eyes."

He spun me back around and held me by my arms, a proud shine to his expression. "There," he told me. "Perfect."

That was the first real smile I gave him that evening.

The sun hung low in the burnt orange sky as James and I traveled to the wedding reception in a chauffeured vehicle. It all felt so surreal—I kept finding myself messing with my fingers and taking in deeper breaths than usual. I kept wondering if I was dressed okay, how the venue would look, and reminding myself not to somehow embarrass myself in front of James' extended family.

I'd never exactly been to a wedding before. I'd never been dressed this... nice.

It wasn't until we were a block out from the venue that I realized just how enormous the event was. Streets had been blocked off. Limousines were waiting behind each other one after the other, caught between luxury cars and lavishly dressed guests arriving to the waterfront hotel. It took us fifteen minutes to get to the front of the queue, and as James opened the door for me, I was already taking in my surroundings with wide eyes.

"How many people did you say were coming?" I breathed.

He thought for a moment. "The ceremony itself is limited to two hundred, but the reception was prepared for a thousand guests. Maybe more. Anybody who's anybody in Boston was invited—public officials, business magnates, councilors and their families."

I had to voluntarily keep my jaw from falling open. "Why so many?"

James shrugged.

"When you're running for mayor, you'll do anything and everything to get the support you need—if that means putting on a show for your son's wedding, so be it." He took me by the hand as the car drove off. "Let's go."

Following behind him on the soles of my feet, James had our names checked off on the guest list. The ceremony was first, and a gasp left my lips as we walked into the expansive room to find our seats.

Trees with white flowers formed magnificent arches over the many double doors. Flower petals were scattered over the floor, while lush greenery, roses, paper cranes and chandeliers hung in an elaborate display from the ceiling. There was an orchestra to the right of the room—a symphony of classical musicians playing beautiful melodies with violins and cellos, backed by the soft strumming of an angelic harp.

Hundreds of people were strolling around us from walks of life—small children in dresses and suits, to older guests in beautiful evening gowns and dapper ensembles. Most of them were already taking their seats on chairs painted in crisp ivory, which were lined up in rows and rows on either side of a spotless white carpet leading up to the altar.

Even that was a majestic display. On a white platform, a combination of vines, white roses, peonies and other flowers were the foundations of a marvelous floral-covered structure, where the officiant, as well as the groom and his groomsmen, were already standing in wait.

"Are those your brothers?" I asked James, peering curiously at the four gentlemen in black tuxedos by Jayden's side.

"The first two, yes," he said. Guiding us to a row of chairs third from the front and on the right side, he explained, "Jayden's the groom, of course. The one next to him is Jin—he's the oldest. Jiro is the one with the glasses."

"You're not standing up there with them?"

James hesitated on his answer as I took the seat closest to the aisle. Standing beside me, his expression fell into an unmoving glare, focus resting somewhere just ahead of us.

He muttered, "They're not my family, Elliot."

I followed his gaze. In the first row directly ahead of us, a familiar man—shorter in height than James—was walking along with a spindly woman who I assumed was his wife. Dressed impeccably in a sharp suit that matched his partner's glittering, forest-green gown, the two of them gave off an aura of power that radiated even to where I was standing.

I didn't have to ask who they were. With one glance at the gentleman's intense face and strong disposition, I knew immediately that I was looking at James' father... the notorious Councilman Kato. Shaking hands with other guests in the row behind, the councilman's attention drifted from head to head until it got caught on the figure of his youngest son. James tensed up at the eye contact, rigid in his place.

They were speaking to each other without saying a word. The councilman, critical and unwelcoming, and James, simmering with anger behind his porcelain façade of stoic fortitude. My heart bled for him. I couldn't imagine what had caused so much bad blood to come between them.

What did his father do to him?

I took hold of James' clenched fist just as the orchestra began playing music for the arrival of the bride.

Two hundred onlookers stood to their feet. Two hundred heads turned in the direction of the open doors. A single woman emerged onto the white carpet, elaborate bouquet in hand, clutching the arm of her elderly father.

The symphony of violins and cellos played touching tones of music as the bride began her slow strides down the carpet. Adorned in lustrous layers of flowing, white fabric, her dress was woven into flourishes of flowers at the bust, with light pastel blossoms towards the hem at her feet. It was the most elaborate dress I'd ever laid eyes on. A silvery-white train stretched so far behind her that two bridesmaids were needed to keep it from tangling. I could only imagine what it would've been like to wear something so beautiful.

People sniffled and smiled as she walked elegantly past. My grip on James' hand tightened—I was holding my breath, too in awe to blink for fear I'd miss an intricate detail.

The orchestra finished playing as the bride ultimately stepped up to face Jayden at the altar. Pulling back her veil, Jayden had nothing but pure joy creasing his flawless cheeks. And for a moment, a brief moment, I swore I saw James smiling at the scene. The gladness never left his eyes.

The guests took their seats to watch the rest of the ceremony. Captivated by the sight, everyone watched the exchange of heartfelt vows and silver wedding rings bind the two young souls together. It lasted about an hour, and as the sun finally set beyond the crystal-clear windows around us, we all stood up to applaud the couple as they were announced husband and wife.

For whatever reason, my attention kept getting caught on James. I didn't think he'd ever looked so content for this long before. It wasn't obvious, aside from the small tug at his lips, but I knew. The happiness seemed to come off him in waves.

Time flew by faster than I'd have liked it to. It wasn't long after the ceremony that we found ourselves heading into a new convention hall somewhere else in the hotel—and this time, the celebrations were in full swing. The thousand guests had arrived in all their glory. A mirage of glittering dresses, priceless jewelry and sophisticated suits poured into the venue, taking photos and laughing amongst their groups. I had trouble adjusting to it all, following shyly behind James as he introduced us to some of his friends.

While he was busy stuck in a bubbly conversation with a wealthy older woman, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket and took the opportunity to do something that didn't involve standing around like a socially awkward moron.

Noah
Today at 7:30 pm

Noah:
The reception's done at eleven, right?

Elliot:
Mhm. Feeling better?

Noah:
Fine, why?

Elliot:
I heard you coughing this morning. Don't want you straining yourself if you're sick.

Noah:
Just a little under the weather. Mostly just want to pass out. I'll feel better when you're home.

Sugar. So sweet. 

Elliot:
I hope you called in sick.

Noah:
Nah. Garage was understaffed. Took some painkillers with a Redbull and sucked it up.

Elliot:
You know, for someone always telling me to take care of myself, you set a pretty horrible example :( Go drink some water, idiot.

Noah:
Sorry, baby. Can't help it.
How's the wedding?

Elliot:
It's... a lot. Everything is so big and expensive and I think I underdressed. I'll send you pictures.

Noah:
You can send me as many as you want if you're in them.

Elliot:
...
I'm no good in photos.

James was still preoccupied with another guest as Noah took a few moments to reply. I found myself holding my breath.

Noah:
We really gotta do something about this lack of confidence you've got, Alley Cat. Because I think you're fucking irresistible.

Fucking irresistible. My focus lingered on those two words for two moments too long. A warm feeling had blossomed in my chest.

Noah:
I'll be at Joe's later. Pick you up at eleven.

Noah:
Save me a slice of cake.

A smile crept to my lips. I tapped the like button on his text and tucked my phone back into my pocket.

"You simply must come by the winery sometime!" mentioned a cheery woman as she vigorously shook James' hand. "I have this lovely bottle of Bordeaux that I know you'll just adore. It's been too long since we last spoke, you know. You've grown so much, haven't you? Handsome, very handsome. Well-aged, just like my wines."

I laughed at her words as she elbowed my side a few times, looking for me to share in the humor.

James managed an awkward smile and drew his hand away. "We'll catch up soon, Cecilia."

Cecilia tossed one end of her olive shawl over her shoulder, waving at us a few times before she walked off in the direction of the convention hall.

"She seems nice," I chuckled.

"I think she sprained my wrist."

Giving him an amused smile, I took hold of his hand and followed the crowd into the venue. It looked just as grand as the ceremony—if not more. White curtains lined the wall and swept against perfectly polished flooring. Petite flowers fell in vines from the ceiling, amongst hanging crystals and tiny strands of light. A countless number of tables extended from one corner of the room to the other, some featuring beautiful candelabras while others showcased a grand display of flower bouquets perched upon tall, glass vases.

The expansive dance floor remained largely unoccupied as the guests took their seats. Long rows of buffet tables at two sides of the hall. A layered cake, easily taller than I was, stood on an intricate structure of flower blossoms towards one corner. By the stage, another symphony orchestra performed—much bigger than the one we'd seen at the ceremony.

"We're never going to find our seats," I realized, staring breathlessly at the never-ending splendor beyond me.

James gave me a humored glance. "Our table's close to the stage."

"On the other end of the hall?" There were at least a hundred other tables standing in our way and dozens of groups that we'd have to push through. "I'm never going to make it. Any chance we can skip to the dessert table?"

"Have some optimism, Tiny," he told me. "There'll be plenty of opportunities for dessert later. Promise."

The soles of my feet ached with pain as James and I finally finished our grueling journey to the other side of the ballroom. Entrées were already being served, and I wanted nothing more than to sink my teeth into something tasty. Not far from the bride and groom's table, our own table was right beside the dance floor, already seating four other strangers. James and I were the last to arrive.

"I can't believe what I'm seeing!" Someone laughed. "Look at what the cat dragged in, hey?"

I smiled in greeting at the guests as a man with bleach-blond hair hopped up off his seat to throw his arms over James, who responded to his friend's embrace with an awkward pat to his shoulder.

"Nice to see you too, Ren," he said. "Glad to see they're letting just anyone through the front doors."

"Wow," Ren breathed, straightening up his green, snakeskin-patterned suit. "I flew out here from the Bahamas, you know. Six months of bottomless cocktails and bright-blue sea only to come back to this. Still friendly as ever, huh? Didn't you miss me, Jay?"

"He probably forgot you existed," joked a young woman at the table. Adorned in a deep-green gown, she stood up to shake my hand, silver bracelets chiming at her wrists. "Saori. Pleasure to meet you. Apologies in advance for my cousin."

Ren rolled his eyes. Focused dashing my way, he asked James, "Who's your friend?"

James didn't answer immediately, because he was too busy hugging—yes, hugging—an elderly woman who'd gotten up from her assigned chair. Short and plump, she only managed to reach James' chest in height, and that was while he was leaning down.

She mentioned something in Japanese. She then chuckled, "So tall! I can't even get my arms around you anymore."

"It's been too long, Hina." Pulling away, he turned to the table and introduced me. "This is Elliot. He's an old friend of mine. Elliot, this is Ren, Saori, Hina and her husband, Kenji."

I smiled nervously. "Nice to meet you all."

Hina offered me a warm expression, resuming her seated position between me and her partner. Kenji, as James had introduced him, was slumped back in his seat with his arms folded over his stomach. And if I didn't know better... I'd dare to say he was asleep.

"This is the singer you're always talking about?" uttered Ren, stunned. "I thought he'd be shorter."

You're not the only one, apparently. My thoughts flicked to James, knowing that he must've expected to see the same five-foot-four blondie when he came back to Boston all those weeks ago. Sucker.

James and I took our spots at the table, and he countered, "You're exaggerating. I didn't talk about him that often."

Saori laughed at the words. "Are you kidding? He came up all the time in your studio back in LA."

My eyes widened slightly. "He has a studio?" Meeting her dark-brown eyes, I perked up, "You've been to his studio?"

"On occasion," she affirmed. "Small visits whenever I happen to be in town. You can always trust James to be there, slumped over a laptop with a set of headphones on so he never hears you calling. Baka." The young woman grinned with perfect teeth and swirled the liquor in her champagne flute. "Besides, someone had to make sure this goddamn workaholic wasn't running his hearing to the ground. How he does it is beyond me—I'd drive myself insane if I had to listen to the same unfinished songs morning to night."

James pondered the fact, then nodded. "You'd have to be insane to do it."

"Still," Saori told me, "every time I was there, he was always mumbling to himself. Things like 'Elliot could hit that note better,' or, 'I wonder if he's ever heard any of these songs come up on the radio'. Even on the other side of the country, he still wanted to impress you with his music."

Did he happen to tell you why he left in the first place? An honest question that came to mind, one that I would've loved an answer to. That is, if I ever had the guts to voice it out loud. Seriously, I'd love to know.

Hina, the cheerful, elderly woman sitting beside me, lifted a shaky arm and said something in Japanese to the rest of the table. Her croaky voice was so soft that I didn't think anyone heard it. That is, until Saori and Ren burst into laughter.

I looked at them, nervous and a little lost. "What did she say?"

James cut in, "Oh, there's no need to repea—"

Ren went ahead. "Said she's proud that her grumpy little bocchan finally managed to grow a pair and confess his feelings instead of thirsting over you for another five years." He made sure to add, "But not in those exact words."

The music producer dropped his forehead to the table and let out a lengthy exhale. I chuckled and patted his shoulder.

"I'm not ten years old anymore, Hina," he grumbled, downcast. "I thought we dropped that label."

"Forgive me," she chortled. The woman hid her smile behind a ringed hand. "I've rarely seen you in person since you were a boy. It's not easy to adjust."

Hina seemed to radiate a tender warmth around her. The way she observed James with nothing but shimmers in her eyes and calming expressions of affection was similar to the way one would embrace a close relative. It was... strange. I'd never met someone who held such a familiar relationship with him.

So, I asked her, "How do you know each other?"

Her cloudy eyes met mine, pink gums peeking through her grin. "I was one of the maids employed by his mother after he was born. Between running errands and general housekeeping, I was the one clothing him and changing his diapers." James looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him up whole. "I suppose the closest definition is, erm... what is the word? Nanny?"

Ren didn't try at all to suppress his laughter. "Nanny, mhm."

James had a nanny? I was officially putting that at the top of my list of things I'd never expected to hear out loud. Oh yeah. Hina and I were going to be great friends.

"And what about you?" Saori asked me. "What do you do for a living?"

The sudden spotlight had my throat running dry.

"Oh," I stammered. Like an idiot. "I, um—I'm a bartender." Straightforward sentences? Zero out of ten. Basic social skills? Laughable.

Ren's eyes widened, sipping his champagne. "You own a bar? Gosh. Hardworking and charming. Now I get what James sees in you."

I could feel the sweat forming on my neck. Maybe that was just the friction of the necktie around my throat, or the thick fabric of my clothes swaddling me in heat. Whatever it was, my hands had gone clammy.

These people were so damn rich they just assumed that I owned the place.

I looked to James, who must've sensed my uneasiness because he saved me the mortification of having to correct his friend's conclusion. "He doesn't own a bar, Ren. Not yet at least."

Not yet.

Those two words brightened my spirits, and the funny thing was that I couldn't even explain why.

Ren waved his hands in apology. "Oops. My apologies. But bartending is still really cool—do you know how to do those tricks? The ones where they throw the bottle?"

"Flairtending?" I nodded quickly. "I'm a little rusty, but I try when I can."

"Sugoi!" Saori beamed, expressing the surprise in her mother tongue. "We absolutely must come around this bar of yours sometime. You have to show us."

I couldn't even begin to explain to her that Joe's was a rusty, barely-functioning, down-on-its-luck dive bar in the middle of nowhere, and certainly not a place where someone of her distinguished social status would fit in. So I didn't say anything. I kept my mouth and let her entertain the daydream.

Ren changed the trajectory of the conversation while I was distracted.

"You know what?" He bumped James' shoulder and declared, "I'm glad somebody got to melt that frosty heart of yours. I was starting to think you'd die alone."

James deadpanned. "Thank you, Ren."

"Anytime."

My wedding partner stood up off his chair. "I'm going to go find Jayden," he said, making a conscious effort to escape any further embarrassing stories by the group. "Be back in a minute."

I watched him walk away and tucked myself properly under the table as Ren chattered on about his history with James. Hina leaned over to me at one point whilst everyone else was preoccupied, resting a cold hand on my arm. The maternal kindness was perpetual in her eyes, it seemed.

"I'm glad that boy finally has someone that makes him happy," she decided, keeping her voice hushed. "He's always been quite troubled... too much bad history in that family if you ask me."

I couldn't help but ask. "Bad history? Like what?"

"It's rude to gossip," Kenji grumbled, stifling a yawn from his chair. It was the first sentence he'd said so far—I almost did a double take. Guess he's awake, then?

Hina replied, "No ruder than eavesdropping, dear."

Her husband scoffed lightly and turned his head away.

She waved a hand. "Ignore him." Her crow's feet creased with a scrunch of her nose. "I was just saying that James could use someone to confide in. He's gotten far too skilled at putting on the brave front. Never was one to let anybody in... not even as a small child."

I thought about her words. "I'm sure it's not as bad as you say. He's never mentioned things like that to me."

Her hands clapped together, if only lightly.

"Precisely right," said Hina. "Poor boy never speaks of his family. You've never wondered why that is?"

I have, actually. James knew everything about me, and yet, even five years later... I knew nothing about his life before he met me in junior year. Nearly nothing. Faint glimpses at best. Of course I wondered why that was.

They're not my family, Elliot, his voice seemed to echo.

"Why do you think that is?" I asked her.

"James isn't the Councilman's legitimate son." My lips parted slightly at the revelation. "The people here pretend they don't know, but they do. And if Tanjiro is a man of pride, of tradition, then James is the black sheep."

Illegitimate son. That's right. I had memories, brief memories, of James' mentioning that fact to me once or twice many years ago. I must have forgotten. How did I forget that?

"Has he ever met his real father?"

"I do not think James has any interest in the matter," she admitted. "I'm sure he's aware of who it is, but whether they've met or not, I haven't the faintest clue."

She took my silence as her chance to continue.

A sigh left her lips. "As for his mother... I imagine her infidelity all those years ago put she and James both in quite the shadow. Regardless... it's not right for a child to grow up unloved. And there was certainly no love for James in that family."

"Is that why he got emancipated?"

"I assume that's part of it." She passed a slow glance at her surroundings. "It was not easy to do such a thing, not at all. The Kato family are quite well-known; very serious when it comes to protecting their reputation. Emancipating meant he lost any benefits that came with his last name, whether or not he chose to keep it. Finances, familial ties, connections. He was shunned—as if he'd never been born at all. Everyone else knew to follow along. Except for Jayden, perhaps."

On instinct, I found myself spotting James out of the crowd. It wasn't difficult. He was standing by the stage with the groom, away from other guests. Picking him apart, I observed everything from his relentlessly perfect posture to the passive line his lips had been pulled into.

At least he wasn't scowling. He did that a lot.

Even if he had been, I didn't think I'd blame him for it. If Hina was telling the truth, then nobody at this reception wanted him here. Nobody except Jayden, or Hina, or the people at our table.

To everyone else, James was an outcast. A stranger at best.

How could people be so goddamn cruel?

"That's horrible," I choked out to Hina, who'd apparently followed my gaze.

"Quite." Brief falters impeded her voice. "I remember a time when his mother would host the most wonderful tea ceremonies. James was a lonely child, and quiet, you see—so he would always come and sit by the doors to watch, never saying a word." She shook her head. "Then the maids would come to chase him away... and he'd scream. He'd scream, and you'd hear it through the whole house. It was the kind of sound that would make your heart bleed."

Sounds about right.

I met Hina's deep-black eyes, grateful for the warmth of her presence. "You must care about him a lot."

"Somebody had to," she muttered. "He was just a child."

So were we all.

Rested her hands on my forearm, she pleaded, "You'll take care of him, won't you? I know he can be quite a handful, and that temper of his is a nasty thing... but he needs someone like you, Elliot. Someone to remind him there's more to life than pain and hatred."

Someone like me.

I lingered on those words. Why me?

Why me, specifically? Because I was quiet? Because I was small? Because he needed someone to sit there, shut up and take it when he started yelling again?

I wanted to say that to her. I wanted to swallow down my nervousness, put a foot down and say, I don't owe James anything. He betrayed me. He's a bomb, and I can't live the rest of my life waiting for him to explode.

But I didn't. I never did.

Instead, I muttered, "I'll try my best."

I'd given James another chance because I had hope that things could be different. Hope for us having a friendship that didn't involve all that misery. He and I were on speaking terms now, and my resentment for him was gone—but that didn't mean I was okay with anything he'd put me through.

Forgiveness wasn't acceptance.

Yelling isn't love.

Noah's lesson echoed in my head as James came back to the table. Plates of dinner were making their way around now, and he waited for a server to pass before he could resume his seat beside me. There was a strange twinkle in his eye—excitement maybe, because his typical indignation had vanished. James this animated was never a good sign.

"What is it this time?" I asked him with an exaggerated exhale, ready to get it over with.

"The bride and groom are having their first dance after dinner."

My brows furrowed. "Meaning?"

"It's my piano they'll be dancing to," he elaborated. Moving his chair closer to mine, he spread a napkin over his lap and leaned down by my ear. "And I want you up there with me."

I looked up at him with the face of a crazy person. "You want me to sing? Here? In front of all these people? Have you lost your mind?"

"Jayden thinks it's a wonderful idea."

"With all due respect, forget what Jayden thinks. What about the bride? Her family?" I stressed, "I can't sing at a stranger's wedding. I don't know any of these people."

"You know me." A vexing non sequitur.

I brought my fingers to my forehead and sighed. "James."

"Yes, exactly."

A sonorous laugh escaped him as I slapped my hand against his arm. "Not funny," I whisper-yelled, trying to avoid the attention of onlookers. "I haven't practiced in years. I don't sound the same as I used to. Don't do this to me."

"I already told my brother you were up for it," he confessed and leaned back in his seat. "Have some faith in yourself. You'll be perfect."

Far from it. "What song are we playing?"

His elegant ensemble and silky hair made the smirk on his lips all the more frustrating. "You'll know it when you hear it."

Strangling. That's it. One of these days I was going to strangle James Kato.

Dinner was a blur. Time flew by faster the more I willed it to slow down. While the table around me indulged in chatter and champagne, I stress-ate my way through the food and reached for the bread once my plate was clean. Even that tasted rich—perhaps why I ate so much. Nobody was paying any attention to me anyway, with all the toasts being recited on microphones for the bride and groom.

It was closer to the end of those same toasts that James took my hand and guided me away from all the tables. The stage was dark away from the attention of guests. The orchestra sat in wait while the stage technicians checked the sound equipment, and I paid too much attention to the polished floors as James led us up to his piano. My gut was in my throat.

Was I really about to do this?

Singing. For a thousand people. After keeping my vow not to, for this long. A million worries were rushing to my mind, and I just could stop my fingers from curling into my palm.

I didn't have a reason not to do it, after all. James was here. I had someone to sing for. I could sing for him, because he'd asked me to, and because he believed I'd be good at it.

Or I could sing for myself.

Sing for the kid who didn't get the chance to be loved, Noah's voice echoed, because he was too busy picking up the pieces when people broke him.

James took a seat on the stool of his piano and nodded me towards the mic stand. I inched closer to it, shrouded in darkness, staring out into a crowd of people too entertained by a flashy announcer to notice me. My fingers skimmed the cool metal of the microphone. My heels dug into the floor beneath my feet. My focus drifted to James again.

Trust yourself, he mouthed as the announcer spoke. You can do it.

"And now, for their first dance as husband and wife."

The darkness lifted; a spotlight devoured me. A few seconds felt like a perfect eternity as the bride and groom met each other on the dance floor. Piano keys started playing behind me, and as a familiar melody submerged me into the bittersweet memories of my past, my hands gripped the handle of the black microphone.

Noah was right. I was that broken child. And I was tired of picking up those pieces.

I was sick of not loving myself.

So, for the first time in years, as the audience of beautiful people before me melted away... I finally broke my vow.

I sang.

=||A/N||=

The calm before the storm...