Figured it was probably about time I came on here and said something😅 I'm just gonna be honest with y'all and say I have no plans to return anytime soon, if at all, and I'm sorry for that.

never did see that bear😕

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

@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🙂‍↕️

“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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.