Object show oneshots

21. Lightbrush - Our beautiful (fake) wedding

OK. I SAW THIS POST ON TUMBLR AND I COULDNT NOT GET INSPIRED

"Flowers and dresses." she muttered to herself as she trotted along the aisle sprayed with eucalyptus. Something that symbolised everlasting love. Or maybe the opposite... as a quick joke, an underlying giveaway.
The master of the crime you are all about to witness committed was a young woman named Lightbulb. Short of money, she had taken to false schemes along with her reluctant roommate in order to help her get by. Paintbrush, her long suffering friend whom she shared a flat in the centre of town with, had no power to stop her. Physically, or any other way (not that they wanted her to stop). She was just too damn powerful to escape; no matter what they did to try and cut her off, she would always come clawing back in, much to Paintbrush's absolute delight every time. Despite how much patience she took from them, Lightbulb's friendship would always be worth everything.
Worth everything. Worth everything, as in everything in this shop cost the earth.
"Damn Painty, feast your chubby eyeballs on these!
Paintbrush lazily tossed their eyes around in their head, reluctantly looking at the mad spray of flowers displayed in the corner, stabbed like a bushel of arrows into the bleeding floral foam. They were each a different rowdy colour of the rainbow. The arrangement was hideous.
"Can we just take these now bro? They make my head pound... they're so much. I love them."
Paintbrush gave a growling sigh, screwing their foot into the mud and passing the enormous bouquet without a single word.
"Aww hun, I get there we're only here to have a peek, but if I'm really honest I would kill a man for half of this stuff."
"If we blow our money on actually buying shit, we won't make a profit." Paintbrush replied succinctly, shutting Lightbulb's mouth like a clam shell. Walking onwards into the depths of bridal white, the freakishly tall person whipped their phone out from the front pocket of their flannel shirt, swivelling on their heel as they swiped their camera open. Lightbulb, noticing, beamed for joy and leapt for the displays.
"Ok, photo time! Which one do you want most? I had my heart set on that rainbow spray, but to be honest it would make us look stacked and it's also kinda gay."
"Shut up. But you're right, we want to look modestly poor or we won't reel in the really big catches."
Paintbrush surveyed the aisle of beautiful white blooms, scanning from one row of pinkish-cream to spiritual blankness; shreds of soft canvas. Eventually, they settled, gold in a pan. Fixated on a prize.
"Bingo!" they exclaimed playfully, rushing forwards to a medium sized basket of slightly wilted cherryflowers and other white blossoms. They were so fragile and so on the edge of their best that they had so far been overlooked, and the basket that held the spray was tagged with a neon yellow reduction sticker.
"Absolutely perfect! Painty, you have such an eye for these things!"
Rushing over in her short yellow heels, Lightbulb craned on her tiptoes to smooch her best friend's chin, who grumbled and pushed her away. Peeved, the woman protested.
"Aww, c'mon. Show some respect, we're supposed to be engaged."
"Yes, I know. But we're not. As soon as we take this image and head home, the second we get through the door, we're flatmates again."
Lightbulb appeared slightly disappointed, but positioned herself beside the thirsty lilies and white roses. Smiling mischievously at the camera pointed at her yellow dress, she gestured to the past-their-best blooms with long fingers. A reluctant grumble and the click of a shutter, and their trip was over.
Lightbulb thanked the florist sunnily when she left. Paintbrush left, rose-gold cheeks concealed within a refreshing storm cloud.

two months later
"Ok, looks like we're pretty much all set. We haven't got any replies yet, but we've pretty much asked every available billionaire in the area and even a few future afield. I mean, people like Steve Cobs or Starfruit would be difficult to get, but if we could - oh boy, if we could..."
Reclining on an old battered leather sofa in the corner, Paintbrush shrugged as they plunged their hands back into the packet of Salt and Vinegar crisps. They looked intrigued, but only vaguely, like a man passing by a newspaper stand in the early morning.
"How about MePhone? Think he'll remember us from college?"
Lightbulb's eyes brightened, two tungsten filaments that lit up the entire room.
"Yeah, no doubt he will, but maybe that's a good thing! Everyone at that ol' place was kinda hoping we'd get together." she joked as she keyed in MePhone's ancient contact details.
The email address came up green. It was still valid.
"No fucking way! He still uses his old email!"
"What, the ChunkyCookies73 one?"
"Yeah! Oh my god, this be priceless me hearties."
Paintbrush's cheeky smile dropped back into their permanent resting bitch face when Lightbulb began the pirate accent, humming sea shanties to annoy them as she floated up to her feet. As if on a cloud and not the damp carpet, she began to sneak over to the supply cupboard behind the kitchen island, and rustle through it as quietly as possible. Paintbrush had gone back to their crisps, but nevertheless they knew exactly what she was up to in her rummaging little ways.
"If you're getting the pirate bandana and hook out then I'm suing you."
"Hey Painty... are you a creeper? Cause you just made me say aww man."
Paintbrush smacked their crisps directly into the centre of their forehead from the sheer amount of damage that awful joke had inflicted on their emotions. Cringing and wondering why they'd ever agreed to even so much as fake a marriage to this dumbass, they grunted in distaste at their shattered crisps inside the package. Still edible, they decided, but maybe not for right now as they were getting a little full.
"Lightbulb, stop messing around and send the email."
"Right ahead of ya, Paintyguy. I mean, Paintything. Oh god, that's worse. Uh, Paintyperson!"
Paintbrush laughed and snorted, causing Lightbulb to relax her shoulders in the knowledge that they were ok.
"So you sent it then?"
"Yeah, a- wait... he's-"
Lightbulb frowned, squinting in at the screen and rubbing her eyes.
"He's... replied? Already?"
Leaping to their feet and sending the crisps exploding over the petite rug in the middle of the room, Paintbrush sprang to read. Skidding and almost slipping over on the change of surface between the living room and the kitchen, they came in beside Lightbulb. One glance at her face and they knew it was bad. She was as white as a sheet.
-
Congratulations on your engagement! Lovely picture of Lightbulb with those flowers. I know you only asked me for a small grant, but seeing as I knew you from school, I think I could reward you with more than just that. 11th June is a free day for me - I'll be there!
Best wishes,
MePhone
-
"W-we're gonna have to fake an entire ceremony..."