𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐑 ❪ M. FLINT ❫

XXVII

A small wince escaped the ebony eyed males lips, watching as his father tightened the bow tie around his neck. The older male simply disregarded the sound, his lips formed in a thin line as he furrowed his brows. "Man up, son." His cold voice spoke, turning towards the mirror as he fixed the cuffs on his suit. "Have you recited the vows?"

Marcus forced himself not to roll his eyes at his fathers words, nodding his head softly. "It's not hard to memorize. After all they are the vows every single person in this family uses."

His father gave him a warning look through the mirror. "They are traditional vows, and I do hope you recited them well. Wouldn't want you fumbling over words, what would the Rosier's think." He muttered the last part.

Marcus bit back his tongue, knowing it wasn't what the Rosier's though, rather what his father would think. Being so caught up in himself, his father lived on what others thought about him, that included his family. His father thought it would make his family look good if his son took the sacrifice of earning his dark mark for the Rosier girl. Causing them to wind up where they are now, less than an hour away from both teens walking down the aisle.

The longer Marcus watched his father through the mirror, the more he realized they were nothing alike. Marcus was glad he wasn't like his father, not a stone cold man who only surrounded himself with people and things that would help improve his image.

No, Marcus was warm, surrounding himself with people he cares about, no interest involved. He would never forgive himself if he was to become the man that stood before him.

. . . ✿ . . .

Standing at the altar was uncomfortable, the guests were either watching the groom or turning in their seats in hopes of being the first to see the bride walk in. Every now and then Marcus would catch himself in an awkward encounter when his eyes locked with a guest, trying to remember who they were. Were they related, family friends? He didn't know for sure, instead focusing his mind on the young woman who walked through the large double doors.

His breath hitched at the sight of his bride adorned in a white dress. Beautiful. He thought to himself. He watched as she glanced up, halfway through the aisle when they locked eyes. Could someone look as gorgeous as she had in this exact moment? He doubted any other female could top her beauty.

Y/n stood before him, a peaceful look on her face. Not like the one she bore a week before. She smiled widely at him, causing him to return the gesture. When the two had first met, she feared she would not learn to love him or he wouldn't love her. Standing only a foot away from him, she realized she had worried for nothing. He was kind, good to her. Making her stomach ache when he was around, at first she thought she was sick, but then she realized it was what the other girls talked about.

Butterflies. Love.

Her mother had once told her that her father made her feel butterflies. The girl was only five, wondering aloud how he put the creatures into her stomach without hurting her. The older woman laughed at her, shaking her head as she informed her daughter that one day someone would make her feel as if she had butterflies in her stomach.

When they had exchanged their vows, Marcus was nervous after hearing the words of the marriage officiant. 'You may kiss the bride.' He looked towards her nervously, having been intimate with her behind doors was one thing, doing it in front of a crowd was another. He hesitantly leaned in, capturing her soft lips onto his own as their guest cheered.