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When Max smiled at him, Lysander could see in his eyes that he was thinking the same thing. “See you in a bit,” he said softly. Lysander’s only response was an unhappy grumble, but he let his husband pull him into one last kiss before they separated.

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Sitting a few hundred feet in front of it was the reception hall, and it was there that the two parted ways, rooms already set up for them to get ready in. It would only be a few hours before they saw each other again, but for some reason, it was harder than usual to let go of Max’s hand.

He’d not even known something like this existed within the valley, but it made sense that Max had been the one to find it; he’d always known how to reach past the dirt and grime to find the light.

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The venue had been Max’s choice, as were most of the decisions as far as wedding planning had gone, but Lysander knew his husband had picked it out with him in mind. The greenhouse was all glass and marble, vines crawling over windows and leaves reaching for the ceiling.

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Choking down his laughter, Max had to look away before he got them in even more trouble. “We should get ready to go, we’ll be late if we—” “And whose fucking fault is that?!”

“You two are unbelievable,” Ren spat when he spotted them at the bottom of the stairs, “I had to send Leith on a run with the dogs. You’re worse than fucking rabbits.” “You’re gonna be mean to me on my wedding day?” Lysander asked, shooting Max a look of faux fear when Ren glared back at him.

Lysander scoffed. “You wanna add to the marks Sasha’s gonna have to cover with concealer later?” he asked, but even as he asked it he was reaching to drop the cigarette in his ashtray. Max shrugged, nipping at the side of Lysander’s neck. “She won’t mind.”

The hum Max gave in response said he didn’t completely believe him, but he didn’t press the matter, crawling over to Lysander’s side of the bed. “You know, we have like an hour before we have to leave…” he murmured, lips brushing against the shell of Lysander’s ear.

“Not as bad as usual,” Lysander replied, reaching for the cigarette he’d not allowed himself to light yet. The smell always woke Max up, so as desperately as he’d needed the nicotine after the feeling of Enoch’s teeth at his neck had wrenched him from sleep, he’d held back.

Yawning, Max sat upright as well, stretching as he did. “Nightmare?” he asked, because as well as Lysander’s medication worked to put him to sleep, it could do nothing against the images that pulled him awake once more.

Despite the fact he could barely hold his own eyes open, squinting against the sunlight beginning to peek through the wall of windows, the first words out of his mouth were, “Did you sleep?” Sitting up, Lysander nodded once. “A bit.”

Dell @dellsiming.bsky.social · 25/05/2026

When Lysander rolled over in the bed, Max was just beginning to blink awake, eyes bleary and still tired. Even after all of Lysander’s best efforts to wear him out, it had taken him forever to fall asleep the night before—he was too excited.

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@mythicsims.bsky.social said I should post this pic she took of my drink so that people know I don’t always eat like a lil rat Sometimes im fancy🙂‍↕️

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“You love me.” “I always have.”

Red spreading to the tips of pointed ears, Lysander shook his head, gave a breathy little laugh. “You get more and more possessive every day, you know that?” Max just shrugged—no matter what he said, Lysander liked it, Max already knew that.

“You’ll finally be mine tomorrow.” Lysander scoffed, eyes trained on vibrating strings. “I’ve been yours since the sixth grade, Maxim.” “But now everyone else will know too,” Max countered, “That you’re mine and mine alone.”

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Max grinned. Even after three and a half years, it was so easy to make his husband blush. There was a certain little thrill that came with the knowledge that no matter what or who Lysander had done in the past, Max was the only one who’d ever brought this specific look to his face.

Lysander hummed, a sound low in the back of his throat. “What about?” “You, mostly.” Freckled cheeks beginning to go red, he turned his face back down towards his guitar, as if he didn’t have every chord committed to muscle memory, had to look at them to know what he was playing.

“You okay?” Lysander asked after a while of what Max thought might have been Black Sabbath’s ‘Paranoid’—it sounded strange, played on an acoustic guitar and all the chords slowed, but he was pretty sure that was what it was. He gave him a small smile in return. “Just thinking.”

Max thought he was probably supposed to be nervous, jittery with anticipation, fretting over what might go wrong or what would happen. Listening as Lysander plucked quietly at his guitar in the floor of their bedroom though, Max wasn’t any of those things. He was just content.

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Eventually, after years of waiting for things to slow, Lysander had told Max to pick a date and he’d make it work, no matter what he had to put on hold or force to a stop. Now, that date was tomorrow.

Lysander’s job was not something easily planned around, and problems in the valley did not cease just because Max wanted them to. Not to mention their move into a new office, all the renovations that had needed done there, as well as Max starting school once more. They’d barely had time to breathe.

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A wedding though… Max had to admit, the idea of gathering all their loved ones in one place to celebrate him and his husband was nice. They’d had so few chances to celebrate their marriage, and it had always been just the two of them. The main issue was, of course, time.

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Max didn’t want another proposal. The first had been spontaneous, unplanned, a complete mess, just a jumble of feelings and thoughts thrown out into the air with hopes the other would be there to catch them. It had been perfect, and how did you improve on perfection?

They’d not even told anyone they’d done it for weeks, what did they care if anyone else believed them? It was theirs and theirs alone. Still, Lysander had always promised him a ring, offered to get down on one knee and redo his proposal, said there would be a wedding if Max wanted it.

When they’d first gotten married, it had been nothing but a sheet of paper, a change of Max’s name and a legal document all the proof of their union they had, all the proof they needed, really.

Maybe it didn’t seem like the most incredible progress, and he’d definitely fought it every step of the way, but it was progress nonetheless. Ren was proud of him. So proud, at times, that it felt like it would suffocate him.

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He wasn’t 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘦, not by any stretch of the imagination, and the bad days still made him unpleasant to be around of course, but those were getting fewer and further between. Especially recently, he’d had more good days than bad, something that seemed like an impossibility only a few years prior.

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He’d gotten better about touch, a hand on the shoulder or Max’s arm around his waist something that had become easy as long as he knew it was coming. Hugs were typically a 'no', but sometimes he'd be generous, even when he didn't really want to be, especially if it was Sasha.

He spoke more than he had in years, every once in a while allowing a soft laugh to escape uncontested. He wasn’t the chatterbox he was as a child, though Ren didn’t really think he ever would be again.

He knew none of their guests from the city would believe him, but this really was a rare mood for Lysander. Not that he was normally upbeat, happy-go-lucky and full of energy, but quiet and uncomfortable and waiting for his chance to leave was no longer his default setting.

Ren nodded. “Yeah… I know what you mean.” It would occasionally make his head spin, to think about how much had changed in the past few years, how much had stayed the same at the same time.

The movie was nearing its end when he finally spoke. “I can’t believe they’re getting married tomorrow,” he whispered, eyes still locked on the tv. Ren huffed a quiet laugh. “They’ve been married for years now, bud. Tomorrow’s just the wedding.” “I know, it just… now it feels real. Ya know?”

It didn’t take him long to pick a movie once the remote was located, he’d never been picky about anything in his life, selecting the first title that piqued his interest. They sat in the quiet for a while after that, silence comfortable, only interrupted by Leith’s laughter.

“If you can find the remote. I’m getting in the shower.” Leith pouted after his brother, frown deepening when Max followed Lysander up the stairs without a word, but then Ren threw himself down on the couch beside him and his smile was quick to make its return.

Leith had requested—begged till he was blue in the face, actually—to be allowed to spend the night, so he didn’t move from his spot on the couch, Aite curled against his side. “Can we watch a movie?” was the first thing out of his mouth when the front door had shut again.

“Bye, my beautiful boys!” Sasha sang, heading for the door, “We’ll see you at the 𝘸𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨!” With that, the women piled out of the apartment, Niran and Benji right behind them; Niran to act as chauffeur and Benji because he was the only one Lysander trusted handing his debit card over to.

Sasha pulled her phone from her pocket, gasping when she saw the time. “Holy shit, he’s right, we have to go, like, right now!” Aby shot her brother an aggravated look but peeled herself off of the couch, scooping her purse from the floor as she went.

Aby gave an affronted scoff. “You’re bored so you’re just going to kick us out—?” she tried to demand before Lysander cut her off. “Miss your appointments at the spa then, I don’t give a shit. Save me a couple hundred bucks.”

“You guys have to go.” Lysander didn’t glance up from his phone as he said it, words clipped and voice slightly strained. Even to Ren it sounded like he had finally reached his breaking point and was kicking their guests out of the apartment. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he was.

Holding her at arms length, he gazed coolly down at her. “You look like shit, Bon.” There was an indignant huff or horrified gasp from just about everyone else in the room, but Bonnie laughed. “I love you too, Lysie.”

Based on the nightmare he’d had that night and the tension slowly creeping into his frame, Max knew this hug had probably tapped him of all resources. It was only a second or two before he was retreating again, but Bonnie seemed pleased she’d been allowed the minuscule moment at all.

There was a limit on the amount of physical affection Lysander was willing to give out each day, a limit that grew and shrank depending on the type of day it was.

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There would be no anger or disappointment if he had to refuse; it was never anything personal and she knew that. Regardless, she grinned when he reached for her, letting out a content little sigh once she was in his arms.

Feeling a familiar presence at his side then, he shot Lysander a quick smile before moving out of the way. Once again, Bonnie threw her arms open expectantly, but she didn’t pull him in the way she had with Max.

“You look so beautiful,” he told her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I feel like I got hit by a bus,” she answered, but giggled when she met his eye once more.

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To a passerby, she probably looked fairly put together, but Max could tell, and he knew anyone else that truly knew her could as well. Her makeup was modest, accessories sparse, hair pulled back in a simple bun, the shoes on her feet lacking any sort of heel or platform. She was tired.