The music fades in, soft and slow, and everyone rises. You stay seated for a beat longer, heart in your throat as Dean steps into view at the altar — sharp suit, tie slightly crooked, nerves in his jaw. He scans the crowd.

Then he sees you.

His breath catches. Just for a second. The world blurs, the church buzz quiets, and it’s like you’re the only person in the room.

Later, it's time for the wedding vows, he kept on fumbling like his body physically can't do it. “I, uh… I wrote something down, but now it feels kinda... wrong.” He glances at you, guilt flickering in his expression, his partner to be wed was fuming.

He still looks at you like a song he never stopped playing.