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There's the quiet sound of a zipper when he opens the still occupied garment bag hanging up behind the two of you, its partner already empty. You answer over the shuffle of fabric as he pulls your dress out.

"Mostly the 'standing up there in front of everyone' part," you clarify.

Kiyoomi's eyes crinkle a little at your answer, lips ticking up into a barely there ghost of a smile.

"So, not nervous about the 'being bound to me for the rest of your life' part?"

He's teasing, it's obvious in the arch of his brow, the lightness in his dark eyes.

"No," you agree, finally turning away from the mirror to face him, "not nervous about that part."

He lets you hold onto him as you step into the dress, fabric pooling at your feet. The weight of it settles easily onto your shoulders, familiar hands making sure every bit of satin and lace sits right against your skin.

It's like he's unable to resist your pull, fingers finding the line of your spine when you turn, like a planet in orbit, lingering at the nape of your neck after he's pulled the zipper into place. He looks up to find you already watching him in the mirror, glowing and rosy-cheeked and so beautiful it makes his eyes sting.

Fluffing fabric until it sits just right, you smooth your hands over the front of your dress. You start to bend to pick up your shoes, but he's there before you can even reach for them, kneeling in front of you, carefully parting your skirts to wrap a hand around your ankle, quietly pulling at your arm until you let a hand rest on his shoulder.

You've barely opened your mouth before he's cutting you off with a soft sound.

"You'll be my wife in less than an hour, let me dote on you a little," he scolds, though he's smiling so big you can see his teeth, the flush that sits at the tips of his ears.

With great care, he slips your shoes on, lacing ribbon and then smoothing until it lays perfectly against your skin. When he places your foot back onto the tile, he makes no move to get up, instead leaning closer, curls brushing against your thigh, eyes glancing up to meet yours.

The way he's looking at you right now makes you want to call the whole thing off, if only so you can spend the remaining hours of the day right here uninterrupted, with him on his knees and so much adoration etched into his handsome features that you're not sure where he manages to keep it all—his heart must be full to bursting.

You let the moment stretch, your fingers brushing his face, gliding along his cheekbone. With a soft sigh, he kisses the side of your knee one more time, gentle and unhurried.

When he slowly gets to his feet, now standing at his full height again in front of you, your hands, only a little shaky, lift to smooth the collar of his shirt.

"You ready?" you ask, rising up onto your toes to press a barely there kiss to his cheek, careful not to smudge your lipstick.

He smiles that smile that you know is just for you and takes your hand, pulling you gently towards the door of your shared dressing room, but he stops before you reach for the knob, turning you to face him fully, lifting both hands to cradle your cheeks, holding you so closely that your noses brush.

"Yeah," he breathes into the air between you, "I'm ready."

dividers by @/thecutestgrotto