Regrets

Chapter 2: Wedding Day Jitters (Justin’s POV)

Wedding day. It’s my wedding day. Who on earth would’ve thought this day would come in my life? I certainly didn’t. I mean, I’ve always wanted to get married and have a family, have no doubts about that. I still do. It’s just that nearly five years ago, I had always thought I’d be settling down with Br... with him. Then three or so years ago, I had all but given up on love. Now, I’m standing in front of the mirror, staring at the figure dressed in a black tux looking back at me, and I can’t help but wonder… wonder and remember.

I had thought that I’d be able to beat the odds and get him to love me like I loved him. Oh, I knew he loved me… in his own way, he did. But I had foolishly believed that if I was persistent enough… if I was determined enough, he’d finally see me the way I saw him: my world, my everything. I thought, like a naïve child, that my love could sustain our relationship for as long as necessary until the day he realized he needed me as much as I needed him.

Of course, there was the one time I defected. I had left him for another… left him for a bunch of pretty words and false affections. I’m not denying that I had my faults because I had them; plenty of them. But I’m human; I make mistakes and I learn to not make them anymore. I ran back to him. But is it truly running back if I had never truly left in the first place? After that horrendous incident, I told him I accepted whatever it was he wanted. I’d accept the tricking, the drinking, the drugs… the pain I felt every time he went out to fuck someone else. And quietly, on the inside, unknown to him, I promised him that I’d accept whatever I can get of him, for as long as he’d have me. I’d accept the fact that I’d never be enough for him…

Then came the bomb; the ultimate destruction to my heart; the final blow to my soul; and the nail that sealed the coffin in our relationship. He was leaving me… not for some place like before. Oh no. He was leaving me for someone else. He had “fallen” for someone else. Someone else had reaped the rewards of what I sowed with my tears, my blood, my life. Some one else got the greatest gift I had desired for half a decade of my life. And I felt… dead.

That night, the night I found out, was the last night I had ever stepped foot in the loft. It was also the last night any reminder of me resided at Britin. Whatever I couldn’t carry out with me from the loft, I left behind and I never went back for them nor do I know what happened to them. I called up Daphne and asked her to help me gather the rest of my things from the manor he bought me. After all, he had bought the place out of love for me and since we finally met the end of our entwined paths, it only made sense that any trace of me was removed. Besides, he might have needed the place for him and his… lover. In fact, I had packed up most, if not all, of my belongings, caught a flight out of Pittsburgh and made a life for myself in New York. I had shared an apartment with Daphne for the first two months of my move before I made enough to buy my own place. Who knew the review the magazine gave me would’ve come in so handy?

It was only two years ago, and a year after the break-up, that I met someone. For a year, my soul had been left for the dead and my heart empty of emotions… and nothing could save me from my self-destruction. Well, nobody until I met him: Isaac Kenneth Bale. I had been walking down the streets of New York with a bag full of newly purchased art supplies and he had been exiting the café. He didn’t see me, I didn’t see him. You can just imagine the mess we made, right? We both apologized; he helped me pick up my stuff, and bam! we were on our way to becoming what we are today.

He owned an architecture / interior designing firm and was on his way to interview people for an opening in the firm: someone capable of making blueprints and detailed drawings of what the places would look like based on the clients’ wants and the designers’ ideas. I applied for the position, showed him what I could do, was brought in as a test artist during one of the meetings, and hired. Never thought I’d see myself going from dreaming of becoming a painter to working at a firm making blueprints… odd how things work out, eh? But then again, I’d never thought I’d ever intern at an advertising company either.

But as time went on, Isaac began to help me find my way back into the living. I started seeing in colors again, and as such, started painting in colors once more. I had begun to learn to love the sunlight on my skin and the pleasures of little things as well as big. I was slowly becoming me again. Although I doubt I’d ever be completely healed, because there are just some scars that will never heal, I was alive. Isaac helped me relearn love again. He showed me that my heart, despite my thoughts, was not jaded. It had just taken a break to recover and was waiting for someone to unwrap the bandages. I love Isaac, don’t get me wrong, I do. I’m just not sure if the love I feel for him surpasses the love I had for Bri…him. But I’m learning… and I’m trying.

And now, two years after the initial meeting, I’m standing in our condo, staring at my reflection in the mirror, on my wedding day.