The wedding took place in a red-bricked church close to the creek. As expected every pew was packed with family, friends, and curious strangers from all over Brooklyn, eager to present an image of showing support. Even the Fouchers had driven out for the occasion, many more than Jakub had ever been aware of existing. Barney and his bride, Wanda, were dressed in traditional attire, both wide-eyed like rabbits as they made their way down the aisle. When it was Jakub’s turn to follow with Wanda’s sister, he picked a spot in the stained glass behind the altar to focus on, determined not to think about the many eyes on him. For some stupid reason he wondered if they might notice his new jacket, and had rehearsed his explanation for it beforehand.

Cheshire wasn’t among the guests; he had declared it his duty to see to the reception while the ceremony went on, a role much better suited to him than irritating Barney through the mass. As Jakub took his seat near the front, he felt foolish for missing him.

The ceremony was long and uneventful. Jakub couldn’t remember the last time he had attended one, and even if he had, he wasn’t used to the standing and kneeling of a Catholic mass. He kept his eye on Hannah the entire time, following her lead to know what was required. It earned him a few glares in return, and he wondered if she was just as self conscious about the flowery dress she’d been required to wear as he was his suit coat.

At long last, the formalities concluded, and the entire procession crossed the street to the dance hall reserved for the occasion. Though little had been offered in the way of decoration, there were enough people to fill the place to capacity, and Jakub had no choice but to let the crowd herd him to his place at the head table. From there more traditions commenced: the presentation of bread, the toasts, the songs, the gifts. Jakub endured in a haze, until the servers circulated with shots of vodka.

“I’ve been saving this for today since the boat,” Kasper declared as everyone lifted their glasses. “Which makes it perfectly legal!” He drank amidst cheers, and then everyone followed suit. It wasn’t to Jakub’s taste but he downed his anyway.

As the glasses clanged to the tables one voice rose above the others in raucous laughter, and Jakub’s attention snapped like a hunting dog. He spotted the back of Cheshire’s head at a far table, and was inordinately pleased to see part of his hair drawn back with a pair of well-manicured braids. So, he got his wish, he thought, but then remembering who must have done it for him, his humor faltered. At least he looks happy.

Dinner came next, and Jakub took the opportunity to slip away from the table. Cheshire’s corner of the room seemed to have already drawn strays, making it the liveliest area of the hall, and he almost abandoned his own approach. It wasn’t as if he had any jokes to entertain the Szpilmans, wide grins to flash and charm with.

But like always, the laughter drew him in. It mystified him sometimes, how someone could be that open that easily. The entire table was absorbed in him, and Jakub was debating on whether he was really interested in interrupting when a member of the audience turned toward him.

“Rég nem láttalak, Jakub,” he said, and Jakub didn’t recognize the voice, but there was still only one person he could think of that would speak Hungarian to him. Breathless, he looked to the young man and couldn’t help but stare openly.

“You don’t recognize me, do you,” said Miklos, smiling. “I know I—”

“Jakub!” Cheshire turned in his chair, and having the both of them watching him so closely made Jakub nearly light-headed. “Let me introduce you! This is—”

“Of course I recognize you, Miklos,” Jakub finally managed to get out. “I’d know you anywhere.”

Miklos grinned wider as he stood, and he wrapped Jakub up in a firm hug. Recognition or no, Jakub wasn’t prepared to find them chest to chest, not when his mind was reeling with memories of tiny Miklos Horvay, thin as a rail and tucked under his arm. The ground seemed to buck beneath his feet as if from ocean waves, and without thinking he hugged Miklos back. “You’re taller than me, now,” he said, mystified.

“I grew up!” Miklos leaned back so he could look Jakub over; his face was brighter than Jakub had ever seen it, and it warmed him all over. “You look good,” he said. “I was hoping I’d find you here.”

“But how….” Jakub glanced past him, and felt another pulse of heat when he remembered they weren’t alone: the entire table was watching them, and especially Cheshire, whose eyes were wide and saucer-like. He cleared his throat. “This is...Miklos,” he said, no idea where to begin or how to explain. “I know him.”

Cheshire shook himself. “I guess so!” he said, back to normal. “We met earlier, but I had no idea that you….” He gleamed with curiosity. “You’re old friends?”

“Something like that.” Jakub tried to disengage, but Miklos still had a grip of his shoulders, and refused to be brushed off that easily. “It’s a long story.”

“We came over on a boat from Europe together,” Miklos explained, and everyone humming with interest had Jakub sweating. “Six years ago. I only came up to here on him.” He tapped Jakub’s chest and smirked. “I’ve changed a lot since then.”

An understatement; Jakub well remembered his companion’s affectionate nature, but they had both been so young then, his smile devoid of the spark it had now. He had no idea what to make of it or how to respond, and the stare Cheshire was fixing him with had him red with embarrassment.

“I’ve been showing off all week, hoping the gossip would reach you,” Miklos carried on. “Luckily, your friend Cheshire here showed up with perfect timing. He’s been telling me about your adventures.” Jakub gulped as speculation ran circles around his stomach. “In fact, he was right in the middle of a story. Maybe we should go back to your table so we don’t interrupt him.”

Cheshire straightened in his chair. “It’s okay,” he said quickly as the rest of his audience glanced between the three, as attentive as theatre spectators. “I think we’d all—”

“No, go ahead.” Miklos flashed them all a grin and then took Jakub’s hand, tugging him away from the table. “Please. We have a lot to catch up on.”

“Oh, okay.” Cheshire briefly made a face that Jakub couldn’t identify, and then he turned back to the table, all cheer again. “Where was I?” Jakub allowed Miklos to lead him off, his feelings in a tangle.

“Sorry to interrupt like this,” Miklos said as they made their way back to the head table. “You’re the best man—you probably want to spend tonight with the groom. I was just so excited to have a chance to see you again.”

“No, it’s—it’s fine.” Jakub glanced to Barney, who was deeply engrossed with his round-faced bride. “It’s good to see you.”

Miklos chuckled. “You haven’t changed at all,” he teased, taking the seat of another groomsman who had moved to chat with his friends. “But I’m glad. Serious looks good on you.”

Jakub blushed darker as he retook his seat. “I do mean it.”

“I know you do. That’s just what I mean.” Miklos chuckled some more and helped himself to a sausage off Jakub’s plate. “You’re always so straightforward and dependable. It’s reassuring.” He softened with a bit of his own seriousness. “I owe my life to that.”

“I wouldn’t have made it on that boat without you, either,” Jakub reminded him.

“If you say so.” Miklos abruptly sighed. “God, it’s good to see you. I want to hear about everything you’ve done since then.” When Jakub frowned reluctantly, he smirked as if he’d expected it. “Or I’ll talk. Right after you left the orphanage, I was adopted—such good people. I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Please,” Jakub said quickly, and he meant that, too. “I want to hear everything.”

***

Cheshire finished his story with flourish, to a round of laughter and even some applause. So far the Szpilmans were turning out to be a great deal more agreeable than the family they were marrying into, and he was enjoying their company immensely. But as he relinquished the conversation to one of the ladies, he found himself glancing back to the head table, where Jakub and Miklos were seated close together and happily chatted.

He’d never seen Jakub look like that. He wasn’t smiling, exactly, but there was a lightness in his face and posture. He leaned in and listened intently to whatever story Miklos was excitedly telling, with all the ease and comfort he normally lacked. It was more distracting to watch than it should have been.

“You’re not even paying attention,” the lady scolded Cheshire, and he quickly turned back, charming her with his apologies.

The wedding carried on, as boisterous as any event Cheshire had ever participated in. After the dinner came music, and dancing, and more vodka, and more dinner…? And even more dinner? He’d never seen so much food eaten so quickly, and it showed no signs of stopping. Hours into the festivities and even Cheshire’s enthusiasm, which he had once considered boundless, was beginning to wane. He collapsed back into his chair after a lively dance with some of the Foucher cousins, only to realize the rest of his table had settled elsewhere: the girls buzzing around the bride, the men engaged in some kind of impromptu balancing contest with their glasses and cutlery.

They did say this would go on all night, Cheshire thought, loosening his tie. And tomorrow, too. He smiled wearily to himself at the thought as he glanced around, not sure what to do next. As the guests became more tired and more drunk they had started to cluster up with those they knew best, and inserting himself among them was suddenly a daunting proposition. So he caught his breath for a while, sipping water to refresh and stay clear.

His gaze drifted back to the head table. Miklos was still there, entertaining not just Jakub, but a few of their gang peers as well with some story of his. So much for being my date, Cheshire thought, not that he held it against him. He was gearing himself up to join them when his eyes fell on Jakub, and he stopped in his tracks.

Jakub was smiling. On anyone else it might not have even registered—just a slight tip of his lip as the others laughed at Miklos’ jokes. Cheshire had only glimpsed similar expressions from him a handful of times over two years, and he felt simultaneously relieved and foolish. Why wouldn’t Jakub enjoy himself? It was a celebration, and he had an old friend at his side. He ought to be happy. Cheshire was thrilled to see him happy.

So thrilled, in fact, that he didn’t dare interrupt. So he stayed at the table, nibbling on cake, until a slender hand touched his shoulder.

“Hi Chesh,” said Grace, and Cheshire almost choked on his dessert. “Can I sit with you?”

“S-Sure!” Cheshire coughed and had to take a gulp of water to regain his composure as Grace sat down next to him. She was dressed in blue that night, modest and charming, her hair pulled up in a bun loosened from dancing. Her smile had always turned his brain a bit mushy, but tonight it was hesitant, blurring everything even more so. He gulped. “Hi, Grace. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Grace blushed and tried to tuck an errant strand of hair back into her bun. “That suit is very handsome on you.”

Cheshire blushed, too, leaning stiffly into the back of his chair. “Thanks.” What had once felt so natural was suddenly a tightrope for him to walk. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes! It’s just wonderful.” Grace hesitated, seeking something else, until finally surrendering a little shrug. “I’m sorry, I know this is awkward. I just hated seeing you by yourself over here.”

Cheshire laughed—it just bubbled out of seemingly nowhere, jumpstarting the momentum he’d lost. “Oh, no, I’m not,” he said, as ridiculous as it must have sounded. “I just needed a breather before I hit the floor again. I’m learning to Polka!”

Grace nodded, but her face didn’t change, and Cheshire could feel the cake shriveling in his stomach. “Do you want to come back to my table?” she offered. “We were getting ready for a round of poker.”

The sympathy in her tone made his eye twitch. “No, no thanks. I’m gonna wait for the next round of vodka to fill my tank. But I’ll come over later, if you’re still at it.” He grinned. “Your table might be mad at you for inviting me. I’m not terrible at poker, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Grace replied, but without the teasing charm he was used to from her. “You have a very unconventional poker face, but it works.”

Cheshire wasn’t sure what that meant, but he came nowhere near asking. “Later,” he said again. “Save me a seat.”

“Sure.” Grace started to get up, but then she stopped herself, sinking into the chair again. “You don’t have to do this all the time, you know,” she said, and Cheshire went as still as if she’d shouted it. “This act you put on.”

“I….” Heat boiled under Cheshire’s collar as he stared back at her, dumbstruck. “I’m not…? I don’t know what you mean.”

“I just want you to be honest with me,” Grace persisted, the room behind her smearing into an indecipherable crowd of watchful faces. “That’s all I did want. You know that, right?”

Cheshire could only stare. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know. He well remembered every personal question he’d dodged, every unspoken promise she’d expected from him that he couldn’t make let alone keep. He was keenly aware that it was his own flippancy that had caused them to drift apart, and even more so that it was probably the best thing for her. She deserved better than a two bit hoodlum with branded palms.

And he wanted to tell her so, but the look of sincere and somehow hopeful disappointment on her face was chewing holes through his lungs. He smiled and said, “I’m sorry,” as much because he wanted her to stop looking at him like that as because he meant it.

It backfired, but only briefly: all but the disappointment drained from Grace’s expression, strangling him, but then she stood from her chair. “I know,” she said, and she turned to go. “I’ll see you around, Chesh.”

Cheshire leaned his elbows against the table, watching as Grace rejoined her friends for their poker game. Should have just gone over there when she asked, he thought. Another drink and you’d’ve been fine. But seeing them laugh and lean on each other mysteriously turned his stomach, and he couldn’t move an inch. There were a couple other familiar faces nearby, but none turned his way, no eye for him to catch. They probably wouldn’t have welcomed a clumsy intrusion from him, anyway.

He did, however, spot a server with a fresh bottle of vodka, and was very happy to welcome him over.