When Wren offered no reply, the stranger removed his palm from Wren’s own. The red-haired man turned on his heel and stalked up the aisle. His mind still reeling with the utter absurdity of the situation, Wren watched dumbly as the his self-proclaimed groom snatched the scroll off of the pulpit and began to read it.

Well, I hope he can make more sense out of it than I could. Wren thought wryly to himself.

“Damn it, this can't be right.” The man muttered as he rolled up the scroll. “Maybe a demon priest could fix this mess? Or mom and dad, there has to be somebody who can fix this!”

Demon priest? The concept seemed absurdly contradictory.

Maybe he's confused? Wren wondered. He seemed convinced his bride left him at the alter, so perhaps his mind is addled by grief at having been humiliated in such a manner?

Wren couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man, especially after everything he’d gone through himself today. From the looks of it, the man might actually be having a worse day than himself. Empathy tugged at his heartstrings. His aunt scoffed at him often for his tendency toward feeling sorry for others, even after he’d been duped again and again. He supposed she had a point.

In fifth grade, he’d tried to help an injured dog only to have it bite him. His parents had panicked, and after tests and shots to ensure he didn’t contract rabies or some other illness, he’d been left with a scar on his arm and a phobia of dogs both large and small. In his freshman year of high school, he’d thought he’d found a friend when the soccer team’s vice-captain befriended him, but the other boy had only been looking for a nerd to copy answers off of in class. It was a betrayal that stung even worse when Wren had gotten in trouble for cheating, but the vice-captain escaped trouble even when he’d passed the answers of a big test off to his teammates. Wren had found himself in the principal’s office with all the blame laid on his shoulders. It had stung not just because his perfect scholastic record was marred by such a transgression, but also because he’d truly thought he’d found a friend, much like he’d had at 10-years-old when he’d extended his hand to a dog he believed needed him.

His aunt had told him on more than one occasion that his proclivity toward good will coupled with his lack of self-preservation would be his undoing. But Wren couldn’t help it, his heart reached out to those who needed empathy.

To think the poor man believes he and I are married! Wren didn’t bother to try and explain the mysterious matching tattoos on their fingers. He didn’t have the energy to wrap his mind around that one right now.

“It’s okay,” Wren said soothingly as he moved closer to the stranger. “Perhaps she’ll come back?”

He tried to keep his voice comforting and hopeful. “Or… maybe she got lost looking for the chapel or is just waiting for the rain to let up?”

Yeah, he was really grasping at straws here.

Wren paused when the stranger’s amber eyes turned to him. Those strange eyes slowly scanned him, starting from the top of his head all the way down to the tips of his sneakers, then back up again. By the time their eyes met again, Wren was as red as the carpeting lining the chapel’s center aisle. The other man was looking at him in the same manner that Wren had coveted the pastries he had stolen from the wedding banquet. He swallowed, and looked away, a bit embarrassed since he knew that the man believed that the two of them were now married.

Well, if we are married, then I didn’t steal the pasties after all, since I guess I’m technically the bride. Wren had to suppress a laugh at his own silliness.

“You really believe in the best of people, don't you, kid? That sort of behavior will cause you all kinds of problems. Ah, well, to each they’re own, I guess.”

Those words caused Wren to jerk his head toward the stranger. He didn’t really know how to respond to that. It was as if the other man had been privy to his earlier thoughts. He barely knew the man and even this stranger saw the very same failing that his aunt had chastised him for on more than one occasion. He supposed his aunt’s harsh words held merit. After all, he had trusted Gregory, his upper-class man and roommate due to the other man’s sob story, and he’d ended up out on the street for his trouble.

Wren looked down, studying the thick crimson carpet beneath his feet. Not really sure how to answer the amber-eyed man’s question. Thankfully, the stranger didn’t really seem to be expecting an answer. After a brief pause, he spoke.

“You're seriously not at all concerned that you're married to a total stranger? Are you stupid?”

Wren’s gaze snapped up to glare at the redhead.

How dare this man think him stupid when he was clearly the one confused about this whole affair!

For the first time today, Wren felt rage boiling up in his chest. He knew that part of it was because of what Gregory had done about the rent money and the consequences of having it stolen on top of being fired, thrown out of his apartment, and being mugged and losing all of his possessions. Wren also knew that taking it out on the stranger was wrong, but the man was trying his already thinly worn patience.

“Listen, Mr.- err…” Wren stuttered, realizing belatedly that he had no idea what this man’s name was.

“Ash.” The stranger said. “Ashley Blackthorn, to be exact, but my friends call me Ash.” While he spoke, the redhead turned his attention to the rolled up scroll in his hand. Ash’s gaze was so intently focused on the scroll in front of him that Wren would have thought himself completely dismissed had the man not just spoken to him. “We are married, after all.”

A brief pause, and then the redhead spoke again, a sardonic twist to his lips. “At least we are until I can sever the union.”

Ash’s held the scroll up in front of him. The redhead’s glowing gaze studied the rolled parchment intently. Suddenly, the scroll burst into flames.

“Whoa!” Wren yelped as he immediately scrambled backwards.

Just as soon as the flames erupted, they decreased in intensity, then finally fizzled out with one last defiant spark.

“Damn it.” Ash muttered with a sigh. “I can’t destroy it.” He clenched the scroll tightly in one fist, bunching the parchment. Wren noticed that, in spite of it seemingly having been engulfed in flames, the paper did not appear to have even one singe mark on it.

He watched as Ash reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a cell phone. Flipping it open, the amber-eyed man furiously dialed a number, and then held the device against his ear. Wren watched as the man’s expression turned from one of stormy annoyance to sheer fury. Ash’s upper lip curled into a snarl and he practically growled into the phone.

“There's been a mishap with the wedding and I need your help in figuring out how to fix it. Call me back as soon as you get this message. Or, hell, here’s an idea! Come to the chapel, why don't you? See what you got me into for yourselves...”