Rainbow.
The multi-colored flag creased and waved behind the altar where a priest stood before two well-dressed men: Patrick, who adorned a black tuxedo, and his partner, Nico, who wore a crisp lilac suit. Purple orchids and calla lilies decorated the entire chapel, wreathing the place with an exotic, oriental scent while it overlooked the mountain ranges of Baguio City.
"Welcome!" the priest said. "We are gathered here today to witness the love of two people: Patrick and Nico." He turned to the aforementioned couple; the red stole around his neck—a scarf-like vestment—was a stark contrast to his white robe. He smiled, holding a thin black book. "Do you affirm that it is your heart's true desire, that your vows to one another for eternal love and commitment, be blessed by God through Metropolitan Community Church?"
"Yes, Father," Patrick and Nico said together.
As the two exchanged their personal vows with tears running down their cheeks, Yves couldn't stop his own emotions while sat among their peers. It was a beautiful moment. And he'll be forever thankful to be one of the witnesses of their Holy Union. The government may have not recognized same-sex marriage yet, but that's why it's called Holy Union—it's a commitment ceremony.
Yves was sure he saw the heaven cast an ethereal light to his two friends, blessing their unconditional love.
That's what mattered.
Yves grabbed a handkerchief and removed his prescription glasses to wipe the wetness clinging to his eyelashes. Well, he wasn't the only one. Almost every guest was doing the same while Patrick and Nico exchanged their personally-written vows to one another. Their mothers were now sobbing at the front with their husbands, trying to calm them.
'Lucky. I wonder when will Timothy and I get married.'
Yves turned to the empty seat beside him and sighed. They extended the wedding invitation to his boyfriend, but it didn't come as a surprise when Timothy didn't show up. He's not much of a fan of wedding ceremonies for personal reasons. Still, Yves wished Timothy would put aside his cultural research to attend their friends' special day... even just for today.
"May I have the rings, please?" the priest called.
A boy no older than ten years-old, dressed in a cute black suit, walked up to the priest and handed the ring basket.
"Your wedding rings symbolize everything you share in your hearts today. When you look at these rings, you will remember the promises you just vowed to each other. The circle of these rings is continuous, with no beginning and no end—an unbroken circle representing the returning to these promises throughout your life." The priest handed the rings to Patrick and Nico, and made them repeat after him.
Yves' finger twitched as Patrick slid a ring to Nico's finger, and Nico did the same.
"... I give you this ring as a symbol of the vows we made this day. I promise you my love, respect, laughter, and tears. With all that I am. I honor you."
More tears flowed. And even after the end of the ceremony, when the newlywed had walked down the carpeted aisle where rose petals rained on them, Yves was still crying as if he's an ex-lover who could not let go. A hand latched to his arm and shook him.
"Oh, my God, Beb! I'm so happy for them," Alexandra said, sniffling as she dabbed a white handkerchief to the corner of her eyes. "I wonder when will I have mine." She held both hands above. "Lord, when? When will you send the right man who will touch the depth of my soul? And the depth of my cave?"
Yves had the sudden urge to smack the back of Alexandra's head for how exaggerated she could get. But then, he under how she felt. Three years ago, he had also been desperately asking the Lord to send him a man who will make his life complete.
The struggle of a never-been-date-and-never-been-touched adult in their mid-twenties was real.
Yves blamed his ridiculously high standards for choosing a partner. But it's better to wait than to settle for less than what he deserved. And the long wait didn't fail him. He met Timothy—a loving man with a deep passion in uncovering the country's pre-Hispanic culture and history. They both had their flaws, but their love outweighed their imperfections.
"Come on, Beb. Let's go to the banquet hall. Maybe Mr. Right is there," Alexandra said.
"You go on ahead. I need to drop by at Tim's house. He's not answering my text."
Alexandra's face rumpled as she dusted her black gown with a purple accent; walking alongside him while they followed the line of guests out of the chapel. "Speaking of your boyfriend, why is he not here today?"
"He must be buried in his research again. And he's not really a fan."
"Of gay wedding?"
"Of marriage in general," Yves said.
"Then, why are you still with him? Isn't it your dream to have a grandiose beach wedding under the moonlight someday?" Alexandra accentuated the word 'grandiose,' with a circular wave of her hands, as if she's painting a delicate image in front of her.
Yves gave a melancholic smile. "I don't know. Maybe because I'm trying to prove that not all relationships have to end despite having different beliefs... just like his parents. If he sees that, then maybe he'll change his mind someday? Besides, it's still too early to be thinking of that seriously. We still had a lot to work on."
Alexandra pulled back with a long skeptical hum, staring at him with dubiety. She slapped his arm. "Well, you do you, Beb. I'll just support you like always. Because that's what I'm always gonna be." She placed her hand on her chest and looked ahead. "The supportive third-wheel. Charot!"
Yves rolled his eyes. "You mean, the dramatic third-wheel."
"See! I am just a third-wheel to you!"
"You said so yourself."
"I can't take this anymore! After everything that we've been through? After all the nights that we—humph!"
"Oh, my God, Alex! Stop making a scene. We're still inside the chapel." Yves looked around, keeping a hand to Alexandra's mouth. Sometimes, he questioned himself about why he's friend with this crazy woman.
"Gah!" Alexandra pulled his hand away from her face and smacked his arm again, harder this time. "I was just about to say, after all the nights we watched anime and BL series together!" She scrunched her nose, wiping her lips. "And why does your hand smell like a bleach? You performed some miracles with your boyfriend before going here, didn't you?"
Yves' cheeks went aflame at her false accusations while Alexandra sprinted off to the wedding venue, laughing. "Y-You! Come back here, you crazy woman!"
"See you at the reception, Beb! Gotta go!" she said, waving at him before she rounded the corner of a lodge house. A woman who can stand on her own without a man to help achieve her dreams. That's what Alexandra was. But sometimes, she had a vulgar mouth that would get them in trouble.
On the bright side, she got to stop him from bawling his eyes out. Yves willed the blood suffusing his cheeks to calm down as he walked to the parking lot. One glance to the tinted window of the car parked beside him reflected his flustered expression. With all that crying, he must have ruined the subtle make-up they applied to his face.
Yves leaned a little closer, combed his light brown hair, then patted the underside of his eyes. Thankfully, he refused the makeup artist's suggestion to put an eyeliner because he would have made a mess if he agreed. He couldn't stand makeups, anyway. His fair and healthy skin didn't need that much chemicals.
Just as he was about to put his eyeglasses back, the tinted window slid open, and a silhouette of a person came to his bleary eyesight.
Yves pulled away, embarrassed. "S-Sorry! I didn't know there was someone inside!"
"It's alright. No offense taken," came a deep, aristocratic voice. "Leaving already? The ceremony has just ended. Do you not want to join your friends at the banquet?"
"I'll just come back later. I need to go home first."
"Do you need a lift? It will be quite a long walk back to the residential areas."
"Ah, no. There's no need. Thank you. Sorry again." Yves bowed, put on his rounded eyeglasses and turned away; in desperate need to throw himself to one of Baguio City's cliff out of embarrassment.
Hopefully, he wouldn't bump into them again at the banquet hall.