We're All Mad Here

What am I doing here? He talks to me, but no matter how I try to flirt it does no good. Everyone is too loud and too drunk, telling each other in the same breath how much they hate and envy one another. And it is justified, and it works for us. For them. It's a place of lost souls, aimless lives in the drink. The drink tasted good going down, always does. But we never think about tomorrow and our heads in the toilet, now do we? I suppose that is the problem with aimless lives, we tend to aim for that which keeps us aimless.
Find me a quiet corner, which is impossible. I came here with someone else, and they just got started. I never regret coming here until I'm just through the door. I want to go home, but that's not where I want to be either. He smiles at me, and I'm ready to stay, and I'm hoping he comes to sit next to me. When he turns away, I'll recite this all again. Just like we recite this farce of the young living it up, too loud and too drunk to want to care.

(This is my first out-of-fiction but still semi-fiction experience in a long time. Be gentle!)

Title: I Love You, I Don't Love Them
Author: Trixafaerie
Word Count:
Prompt: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Quote

Sam was hiding in the kitchen of the country club, when Chris found him. "Hey, what're you doing in here? We're supposed to be getting ready for the ceremony," he said as he sat next to the upset man.

"Your father is driving me crazy," Sam said quietly, voice a mixture of sadness and anger. "I don't know if I can deal with much more of this. Why are we even here?"

"Because our parents want a ceremony, even if they don't necessarily agree with our decision, or understand it, we're doing this for them," Chris sighed, running a hand through his black hair, which had gotten long again. "Plus did you see what happened when my mother's bridge club met the guys from Ramrod? You can't pay for this sort of comedy. It's a disaster and hasn't even started yet. But let's do it anyway, yeah?"

"Fine, let's go face the music then," Sam said with a smile, pulling Chris close for a kiss before they went their separate ways.

They had decided to divide it not by Groom and Groom, but by parents and other assorted family (and occassional politicians), and the people who really mattered were on the other side. Sam and Chris' best friends, and their significant others, some of them brought their kids or in the case of Michael, his mother. Sam's brother was his best man, even though he hadn't seen him in two years. Chris' sister was best woman, even if she staunchy disapproved of their union. This day was for their family, but it wasn't about them. It's about the man across from me, Chris thought with a giddy flutter in his chest.

He barely listened to his mother's speech (they hadn't found someone to preside over the ceremony, so she volunteered), but grasped Sam's hand in his and offered a private smile to his lover, and husband. They'd already eloped in Canada but there'd been insistence on a party. His mother read the usual wedding preliminaries, but they were to say their own vows. Sam smiled at him as he spoke, sliding the ring on his finger and winking. Chris took Sam's hand and slid the ring on his finger. "You are my heart, my life, my one and only soul," he said as he pulled him close for a kiss, polite clapping from the left and shouts and whistles (with the occassional risque comment) from the right side of the hall.

Sam and Chris walked back down the aisle, hand in hand, as others were instructed to the ballroom for the reception. "What do you say we get outta here?" Chris said with a laugh as Sam tugged on his hand and they sprinted for the cars, happy and laughing.