The church is decorated in white. And I when I say white I mean everything and one inside. The walls and the ceiling was freshly painted. The newly found benches were polished, painted and cleaned. Almost made you think twice before you sat of them. Almost. The drapes flown beautifully down form the window. The aroma of white roses filled the air. White. Such a pure color. Only someone as pure as the color itself should wear it.

Here comes the bride is being play by all the lovely violins and cellos. They string beautifully the piece with ease as he slowly yet gracefully walks down the aisle.

Gracefully.

That he is. Or should I use the correct term seemed. Completely and utterly graceful. He feet barely touched the ground. It looks like he's gliding if not floating on air. Not walking. He is  also all in white. To his tuxedo all the down to his shoes. White, purely white.

He makes his way to me at the end of the aisle. Smiling. Not the small shy one but a full blown one. The ones that seemed to hurt if you hold it for to long. Yet he couldn't stop. He wouldn't dare to. Not now. Not here. Not when he has won.

He stops beside me and hands his bouquet over to one to his friends. Lay. I think. I don't really care for his friends. Or him for that matter.

We turn in union and look at the happy paster that was flew all the way from Korea to grace us with holy matrimony. The idiot. Even if it was my life work, I would never do it. Get someone in Tokyo. But noooo. The paster here aren't good enough for him. He wanted, no not wanted. He needed one from Korea. And what kind of a fiancé would I be if I denied him his wishes.

" Ladies and gentlemen. We are gather here, on this glorious day, to bring together Kris Takahashi and Zitao Hayashi in holy matrimony."