HOLY SHI--

(APOLOGIES IN ADVANCE FOR ANY OOCNESS OF YOUR CHARAS, AND JUBJUB, I HOPE IT'S OKAY THAT I USED RUSSEL, AHAHA!)

In recent years, Ryne had managed to overcome his perpetual stutter with the help of kind friends and a very patient speech therapist. Now it only came back in times of great stress...

Like right now.

"H-H-How do girls d-do this?" Ryne asked incredulously as he struggled to his feet for the 1000th time. 

"Goddammit, Jitters, how can you not do this?" Russel threw up his hands in exasperation. "They're only 4-inch heels fer cryin' out loud! Ain't no way this is worse than that fuckin' Hamtardo suit, and you managed that... kinda."

Yes, the nickname had stuck, though Russel had called Ryne much, much worse names during the earlier part of the boy's relationship with his little sister. And yes, Ryne was still, depressingly enough, two inches shorter than Sasha. One of his friends had gone on a rant about how the groom had to be taller than the bride and gotten 4-inch platforms for Ryne without asking, along with dress pants that went down to just half an inch above the ground so nobody could tell.

It was nice to feel tall for once... Now if only he could walk three steps without falling flat on his face. And this was just a rehearsal. At this rate when the real thing came around, Ryne would be kissing the ground, not the bride.

"O-One more time," Ryne insisted stubbornly. "I can do this."

Muttering unpleasant things under his breath, Russel watched from the sidelines as Ryne took one wobbly step after another. "...Hey, that was yer fifth step! Shit, I think you might actually make it this ti--"

Ryne's concentration was utterly broken by a familiar voice screaming from another room, "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?"

As he rubbed his backside and stood up for the 1001st time, Ryne couldn't help smiling. "S-Sounds like I'm not the only one who had unapproved changes made to their wardrobe."

"HELL NO," shouted Sasha's voice. "I didn't think it was fuckin' possible to find a dress frillier than that shit I had to wear for the maid cafe, but congrats, you got it: gold star for you! But lemme tell ya, it ain't gonna happen. I'm out--"

"Wait--" "Get back here--" "Get her!" came various female shrieks, followed by the sound of stampeding footsteps.

One of the bridesmaids had the presence of mind to stop by the room Russel and Ryne were in, ordering, "You two go around the other way and block the exit!"

"Got it!" Ryne started to run and--

--predictably tripped, doing a spectacular sprawl.

Russel groaned. "This ain't never gonna work out..."