DO NOT COPY
The doors burst open, and you step inside, heart pounding, hoping your late entrance doesn’t ruin everything.
It doesn’t matter.
Because Mitsuya? Mitsuya is losing his mind.
He’s standing at the altar one moment, and the next, he’s pacing like a storm trapped in human form. His tie is crooked, sleeves rolled up in a panic-induced frenzy, and his hands are tugging at his hair like it might somehow summon you to him faster. His best man and his parents are trying their best to calm him—gentle words, hands on shoulders—but Mitsuya isn’t listening. His mind is a tornado: “She’s gone. She hates me. She didn’t come. I’m losing my wife!”
And then…he sees you.
Your gown glimmers in the sunlight, the aisle seems impossibly long, and for a split second, time freezes. Then Mitsuya’s eyes go wide, and his knees knock together like he’s about to sprint into legend.
“Wifeyyyyy!” he screams, voice cracking, shaking his fists as if he could physically pull you closer. “I KNEW YOU WOULDN’T LEAVE ME! I KNEW IT! DON’T YOU DARE WALK AWAY FROM ME!”
Before you can even gasp, he launches. Arms flailing, legs pumping like a man possessed, he barrels across the aisle. Guests yelp and giggle in terror, the flower girl squeals, and someone’s veil nearly flies off in the chaos.
He scoops you up bridal-style. You squeal, kicking helplessly.
“PUT ME DOWN! MITSUYA!”
“No! I WILL NOT! I THOUGHT I LOST YOU! I WILL CARRY YOU TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH IF I MUST!” he whines, pouting like a toddler, voice cracking as tears glisten in his eyes. He zigzags wildly down the aisle, nearly tripping over a chair, dodging shocked guests, still holding you like you’re the most precious thing in existence.
“I WAS GOING TO DIE WITHOUT YOU!” he sobs dramatically. “HOW DARE YOU BE LATE! HOW DARE YOU TORTURE ME LIKE THIS! DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO MY HEART?!”
Your protests are drowned out by his chaotic energy, and honestly? You can’t even stay mad. He’s spinning you slightly, eyes locked on yours, lips trembling.
Finally, he reaches the altar, planting you down firmly—though he doesn’t let go of your hands, his forehead pressing against yours in relief. He whines softly, like a child who’s just gotten exactly what he wanted.
“Father!” he bellows, chest heaving, eyes shining. “My wife is here! Do you hear me? SHE IS HERE! Start the ceremony! Begin the vows! THIS IS HAPPENING!”
He spins around dramatically to the guests, then back to you, gripping your hands as if the world could snatch you away in a second. “I’ve waited my whole life for you! EVERY SECOND WITHOUT YOU WAS TORTURE!