Six hours ago I died. Six hours ago I stood at the front of the chapel and watched her walk into the hands of another man, I even forced a smile when she turned and winked at me.

Her white dress shimmering with little beads that Jubilee and Kitty helped her sew on. Her brown hair pulled up on top of her head showing me the back of her neck, which personally I think is perfect.

Then I stood in the corner of the room, beer in hand and watched as she got congratulated and had her first dance as a married woman. He caught my eye and I forced another smile, tipped my beer in his direction. I watched in bitter silence as he touched the bare skin of her back through her open gown. His tanned fingers trailing over her creamy ‘touchable’ skin. That’s when I replaced my beer with a large whiskey. That’s when I told Jean to fuck off and left for the danger room.

Now six hours later they have left for the airport, going on honeymoon like two normal people. I sit in the kitchen nursing another beer with accompanying large whiskey and stare at the wall, when Scott comes in and sits in front of me, blocking my view of the wall.

“So you’re just going to sit here?”

“Yep.”

“And let her go?”

“Like I told your wife earlier one-eye, fuck off!”

He sighs, gets up and walks to the door, but to my annoyance doesn’t leave. “I overheard her talking to Jean last night.”

I don’t even turn, I just carry on drinking my beer, hoping he’s like a playground bully that if you ignore him he’ll go away. But they never do, do they.

“She told Jean, that… its was a means to an end, a way not to be alone. Whatever that meant. You’ve been a coward all day Logan, and you know it. Maybe its about time you took a chance and actually ‘did’ something for a change.”

I would kill him, but he’s gone already and he’s right. I am a coward. I knew they were going to get married six hours ago. I’ve known for months and never said a thing.

Never told her that I love her and that I feel like making a kebab out of myself every time I see her with him. Every time I smell her with him. Or even worse, every time I hear her with him. Those soft keening noises she makes, her panted breaths and gasps and the positively amazing little yelp she gives when she comes.

I know I’m a pervert for listening at doors, for listening to them, but I can’t help it. If I try really hard, I can almost imagine that it’s me. That I’m the one she kisses, licks and holds onto. That I’m the one she snuggles into when they’re finished, sated. But mostly I want to be the one that her nails tear into. He doesn’t like that, I’ve heard him tell her off, moan and whine about it. He’s even bitched to me about it, says sometimes she’s to wild for him. I would moan and whine too, but in a whole different way. I like her wild.

Seven hours ago I watched her marry someone that you could easily call my best friend. I stood next to him, watched him get jittery when she was a few minutes late. Slapped him on the back and told him to calm down, that she would be there. You see, I’m her best friend two. The three of us are always together. On missions, in bars, but he’s the one who asked her. He’s the one who took a chance. Now I’m the one sat alone in the dark.

I wonder briefly what would have happened if I had been he one to take a chance and tell her how I feel. Would she have said yes to me? Would that silly crush she had when she was a kid blossom into something else? Or would she had simply laughed at me?

They would have checked in by now, the plane leaves in another hour. Probably sitting there holding hands. Unable to take the horrid feeling that Scott really was right I stood up and hurl my beer at the wall.

As I enter the garage and swing a leg over my bike I check my watch. 45 minutes until their plane leave for some exotic island that Chuck paid for. The road is easy and clear. Hardly any traffic, like the whole world knows not to get in my way tonight.

I leave the bike parked in the underground parking and run off to the main entrance. Once through the double doors I check my watch, 20 minutes. I’m quick threw the airport, finding the right gate and checking the details on the giant screen, but I’m not quick enough and I hear them call the flight.

I race to the waiting area for their gate. People are in a line, handing over their boarding tickets, smiling sweetly at the steward who wishes them a happy and safe journey.

Her scent is there vague and drifting away. “Marie!” There’s a wave of brown and platinum hair as she turns.

They both smile and break the line to come over to me. “What are you doing here?”

“Um, I wanted to um…”

He slaps me on the back. “Glad you did, we missed you at the reception before we left.”

“Yeah I know.” I look at my feet and they call their flight for the final time.

“Logan we gotta go sugar. Think you can manage to stay in one piece without us for two weeks?”

I chuckle. “Yeah.” I shake his hand, she kisses my cheek and they go. As they go through the tunnel she turns and gives me a smile. Its only a small smile, a sad and lonely one. One that fills me with hope.

By the time I realise what that smile meant the steward is closing the tunnel door. I growl and push my way past; ignoring her protests and calls for security.

They were the last though the gate and are the last to get to the steps for the plane. “Marie, wait!”

He turns first this time and glares at me confused. “Logan, man, what the hell is going on, we gotta get on this plane.”

I hold his gaze, the noise of the planes engines and the wind making my ears hurt. “I’m sorry, but… I love her.”

She steps forward now. “What?”

I reach out and touch a piece of her hair that has escaped her ponytail in the wind. “I can’t let you get on the plane Marie.”

“Why?” Her voice is almost pleading.

“Because I love you.” As her face registers the shock she feels, two security guards take my arms. My best buddy explains that its fine, its all a mistake. They say fine, but I still have to be escorted to the front of the airport.

They pull my arms and lead me away and he pulls hers towards the plane. I’m dumped outside the main doors and watch my feet as I walk to the bike in the underground parking.

I walk past the bike and up the ramp onto the roof, jut as a plane takes off. Even in the dark I know its theirs. Off on their honeymoon. As man and wife. I stare at the sky as the world carry’s on around me. The planes roar, the lights keep blinking, cars come and go around me.

Someone is running not to be late, a woman judging by the softness of her steps which echo in the car park below me. They come up the ramp and a familiar scent hits me, I turn just in time to meet her as she launchers herself into my arms.

“Marie?” I say not willing to believe.

“Yes. I love you too.”

I crush her against me, bury my face and hands in her hair and thank God I died eight hours ago, because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be living my dreams now.

END