The fabric feels softer now, worn by time, but as you smooth down the pleats of your old school uniform, it’s as if the years melt away. The black blazer with its golden buttons, the striped tie hanging neatly against your white shirt—every detail pulls you back to where it all began. To him. To you. To high school.
Your official wedding gown waits on its hanger in the other room, elegant and shimmering, but you chose this instead for the first moment he sees you today. Because this uniform isn’t just clothing—it’s the start of your love story.
You’ve pinned your hair into soft waves that fall gracefully down your back, dark strands crowned with white lilies tucked behind your ear. They bloom delicately against the black silk of your hair, a quiet promise of the bride you are now, blending with the girl you once were.
You breathe in, steadying yourself. Beyond the door, the murmur of guests hums faintly, but in this moment, the world is just you and him.
He’s waiting on the wedding stage, his back straight but tense, hands clasped as if to keep them from trembling. Sugawara has always been good at hiding his nerves, always smiling, always reassuring—but you know him too well. His shoulders rise and fall in shallow breaths. He’s nervous. Excited. Trying to hold everything together.
And then you step forward.
Your mary jane shoes make no sound on the floor as you reach him. You pause, just long enough to take him in—the boy who once leaned over his desk, whispering jokes during boring lectures, the boy who walked you home with his tie loosened and his hair mussed from volleyball practice, the boy who looked at you as if you were his whole world.
The man he’s become still carries that boy inside.
You lift your hand and gently tap his shoulder.
He turns.
The moment his eyes land on you, the air between you collapses. His breath catches audibly, chest stuttering as if the sight of you knocked the air out of him.
The uniform. The tie. The exact look from when you were both sixteen.
Your hair, now adorned with flowers, falls in elegant waves, a bridge between then and now. A girl and a bride. His first love and his forever.
His lips part, but no words come. Instead, his eyes blur and spill over, tears sliding down his cheeks before he can stop them. He laughs softly through the sobs, shaking his head, overwhelmed.
“You…” his voice cracks, trembling. He takes a step closer, his hand hovering just shy of your sleeve, afraid touching you might make the moment vanish. “You kept it? You—oh god, you wore it for me?”
You smile through the sting in your own eyes, nodding gently. “Because this is where it started. Us. I wanted to remind you.”
Sugawara presses his hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking as he tries—and fails—to compose himself. He has cried before, but not like this. Not like someone standing face-to-face with the very core of his heart.
“You’re cruel,” he chokes out between shaky laughs. “How am I supposed to stand at the altar now? You’ve already destroyed me.”
You reach up, wiping at his tears with your thumb, the way you always have. He leans into your touch, eyes glimmering, smiling through the flood of emotions he can’t contain.
“Do you know what I see?” he whispers, his forehead pressing against yours. “I see the girl who stole my heart when we were just kids. And I see the woman I’m marrying today. And I love both of them so much I can’t breathe.”
You close your eyes, clutching the lapel of your blazer, holding him close. “Good,” you whisper back, voice steady. “Because I never stopped loving you. Not once.”
His arms wrap around you, pulling you tight, and in that embrace, you feel everything—your youth, your memories, your present, your future—all folded into one moment.
Outside, the world waits for the bride in white.
But instead the bride showed up with her old uniform, tears on his cheeks and your old uniform pressed between you, Sugawara holds you as though you’ve never left that classroom, as though you are still his first love.
And always will be.