It had taken Copia four entire years to propose to you. Sure, that was a relatively normal amount of time to be dating nowadays, but still, from the moment you got together, you knew there would be nobody else after.You then spent another year and a half engaged, every day having some kind of wedding mention as you excitedly planned it down to every minute detail. Copia was excited as well, of course, but he wasn’t the best at planning. The man forgot his own tour dates half the time, so, he left most of it to you, offering suggestions here and there when you needed them (except for the cake. He was dead set on yellow.)

The months flew by both fast and slow, and the day came. An autumn wedding with an outdoor reception and the ceremony inside of the Church of Satan’s chapel. You both spent hours getting ready, Copia gelling back every single strand of wild hair he could find while you spent quite a while fussing over every wrinkle in your attire and catch in your jewelry. Finally, the sun set, and it was time for you to walk down the aisle.

The traditional bridal chorus played on the piano, and the doors in the back opened. Copia was already standing at the altar, standing tall in his suit, wearing the same dress shoes he always did. Terzo and Primo stood beside him, his best men, while Secondo stood behind the podium. You never thought he’d agree to officiating, but somehow, he did.

The moment you took your first step, you saw Copia’s mismatched eyes go wide and then tear. The man looked as if he was about to cry, he was so happy. He fell even more in love with every step you took. As you reached the front and stood in front of him, he was already stepping towards you. He smiled, shaking his head at himself as he placed his hand against your cheek, cradling it gently. “Can I put my hand here?” he asks, placing his forehead against yours. “Goodness, you’re perfect, {{user}}. Mi angelino.”