Kate is bleeding.
She hadn't noticed at first, hadn't felt it happen. But when she switches the shower off and starts lathering shampoo into her hair, she's suddenly aware of a small trickle of blood dripping down her right knee. She glances down and spots a small pool of scarlet, swirling around in the foamy water beneath her feet. Cursing under her breath, she tries to mop the blood away with the sole of her foot, pushing it towards the drain before proceeding to carefully wipe the drip away with the back of her soapy hand.
When inspecting her leg, she isn't able to spot a big cut of any sort, nothing obvious to a quick glance. She shrugs it off and turns the shower back on, continuing to rinse the product from her hair.
Kate hastily grabs her towel once finished and winds the fluffy white material around her body. She reaches for a wad of toilet paper and starts dabbing at the cut, cursing loudly when all that happens is the paper absorbs the water droplets from her hand and knee instead. Taking a different approach, Kate dries her hands off and dabs at the non-contaminated area of her knee with the towel. She presses the tissue to the bloody slit one final time before abandoning it on the edge of the bathtub to fish through her bathroom cabinet in search of a plaster.
She pulls out one successfully, peels off the plastic and skilfully sticks it over the narrow cut just underneath her kneecap. For a small cut it didn't half make a large mess. Glancing over at the shower, she spots the culprit guilty and covered in evidence: blood. The snapped cap of her shampoo bottle is stained red, the plastic zigzagged and sharp, hanging over the edge of the shower organiser positioned on the wall at just below knee height. She makes a mental note to fix that later on.
Escaping the bathroom with a nudge of her foot to the door, Kate is suddenly aware of a dull humming sound coming from down the hall. Hair carelessly dripping down her back, she makes a move down the hallway, bare feet leaving wet marks along the hardwood as she pads her way towards the kitchen, towel clutched even tighter around her body.
Kate screams. A dull, surprised, shocked scream that catches in the back of her throat and echos around the plain, white walls of her kitchen. However, it starts to fade away as soon as she realises she isn't being burgled, murdered or even worse, invaded by aliens.
"Good morning!" Her cousin beams cheerfully, too cheerfully for this time in the morning, over a mug of steaming coffee.
"Hi," her face morphs into a hundred different expressions all at once before settling on one: confusion, "uh, what?" Her eyebrows furrow together tightly as she stares in disbelief at her cousin, sipping happily at the scalding liquid in his hand as he perches on Kate's barstool. "How did you get in here? More importantly, why are you here?"
"I still have the key from last time you had me check in when you were away." Peter explains vaguely, spare hand flailing about before he slumps in his seat and takes another sip. "Coffee?"
Kate accepts the other mug gratefully, sipping at the drink which burns her tongue at the contact. She winces and the china almost smashes with the force she abandons her cup with, rushing over to the fridge to get herself a bottle of water.
"Nice outfit," Peter snickers quietly as the water droplets from Kate's hair start to form a small puddle on the floor behind her.
"Thanks," Kate grumbles, sinking down into the barstool next to her cousin, readjusting the towel wrapped around herself. She unscrews the lid from the bottle and chugs half it's contents, sighing in relief at her burning-free mouth. "At least I'm clean." She shoots Peter a raised eyebrow and gets an offended gasp in return.
"I'll have you know I also showed this morning," he comments defensively, muttering under his breath.
Kate ignores him, softly blowing on her coffee which is still steaming hot. It does nothing.
Placing the cup down, she slides off the stool. "Going to get changed," she tells him briefly, wandering down the hall and disappearing.
Kate emerges back several minutes later, hair still damp but clothes replacing the towel. "Why're you dressed like that anyway?" She heavily inspects Peter's outfit choice: a neatly ironed black suit and tie without a crease in sight.
Peter offers her a look of bemusement, raising a confused expression. "Because we're going to a wedding? You're supposed to dress up nicely." He shrugs his shoulders, a flush of embarrassment fanning over his cheeks. His eyes widen and his head shoots towards Kate as she watches him weirdly. "Is it too much?" There's a light panic in his tone and Kate frowns at him.
"What? No, you scrub up nice, Parker." She gives him a reassuring smile, ruffling his hair to which he groans and mutters something about having to now redo it.
Kate laughs, only quieting down when she realises her coffee has cooled to a drinkable temperature. She almost downs the whole thing in one.
Peter checks his watch, somewhat startled by what he sees. "We should probably get going soon."
"Soon? How soon?" Kate starts to panic now, not realising that they would have to leave soon baring in mind she wasn't half ready.
"Half an hour?" Peter replies uneasily, looking between his watch and his distressed cousin.
"Shit," Kate mutters under her breath, placing her half-full mug down, an uneasy feeling that she is not going to have time to finish it swimming around in her head.
Kate emerges a solid half-hour later in a black jumpsuit, dark locks scraped into a low ponytail. Peter almost leaps from his seat. "What took you so long? We're going to be late!"
"Calm down," Kate tells him, "my hairdryer wouldn't work properly, we still have time, don't we?" She fishes the phone out of her pocket. "Oh."
"Yeah," Peter laughs nervously.
"I'm ready now I promise."
Peter has always had a strong dislike of being late. But then again, doesn't everyone?
Kate grabs the necessities: bag, keys, bank card, phone and manages to slip on some lace ups before Peter is practically pushing her out of the door.
Kate's never really been a huge fan of weddings. It's not like she has a problem with them, she's just never really understood the hype of saying a few words, dressing up nicely and making a big fuss because of it. It reminds her of when her mother used to force her out to all of those different events surrounded by snobby rich people who all thought they were the best. She knows a wedding would be different, of course it would be. But she can't help but get the same feeling she used to all those years ago, dreading being surrounded by people she doesn't know.
Thinking back to it, the only reason why she agreed to go with Peter was because she felt bad that his girlfriend couldn't make it.
She immediately regrets her decision, however, when they arrive and she quite literally recognises no one in the crowd of people hovering outside the venue. When Peter wanders off to go and chat to someone Kate's never seen before in her life, she's left to fend for herself and flops down gracefully onto a bench nearby.
They're soon ushered inside by some more people of whom Kate doesn't know and the two cousins take a seat in the back corner. Kate isn't even sure how they got invited. All she knows is Peter's boss is friends with one of the brides. That and the fact that Peter has always been good at getting himself invited to places.
Peter seems to know everyone, Kate concludes, slumping back in her chair when he starts to chat to someone sat to his left, a tall man in shades and the most expensive suit Kate thinks she's ever laid eyes on, and her mother is rich. Bored out of her mind, Kate pulls out her phone and starts absentmindedly scrolling through Twitter. She doesn't find anything interesting, just uses it to waste time because they seem to be taking forever to start the ceremony.
She's only shaken back to reality by a sharp elbow to her ribs, courtesy of Peter. Kate hasn't even realised the soft music flowing through the speakers. She frowns at him and desperately rubs at her ribs. "What was that for?"
"It's starting." Peter whispers back, nodding his head towards the back of the venue where the large oak doors are starting to creak open.
The chatter immediately dies down, everyone shuffling in their seats to face the brides entrances. Kate tries not to roll her eyes at the commotion, classical music playing, the witnesses told to stand. She glances down at her hands and starts picking at her cuticles to pass time.
The procession finally appear through the doors; the best man, all dressed up in a black suit with a red tie leads the crowd; the ring barer, an older man in a matching suit follows shortly behind; the flower girl, a little girl no older than three in a pink flowery dress stumbles down the carpeted floor; three bridesmai-
Kate's eyes stop wandering down the procession edging slowly into the room.
They're wearing plain, blood red dresses - simple yet beautiful - all three of them. But Kate isn't looking at all three of them, no, she's drawn specially to the girl in the middle, walking slightly a step ahead of the other two. Shiny blonde hair is curled down her back, plaits braided into the sides to form a half-up half-down kind of look.
She stands out to Kate, not because she's a blonde amongst brunettes, but because of her shoes (and the fact that she's gorgeous and perhaps the prettiest girl Kate's ever laid her eyes on, even if she'd deny it). Kate hasn't been to many weddings in her lifetime, but she sure knows bridesmaids aren't supposed to wear trainers. She smiles to herself, knowing that's exactly what she'd do if Peter ever got married and she's asked to be a bridesmaid.
The silk dress falls to just above the girl's ankles, making the black Nikes less noticeable, especially when Kate sees the black heels the other two are wearing.
Kate completely ignores the brides. Not in a rude way, but she just can't keep her eyes off the bridesmaid and the way the sprinkle of silver glitter in her hair sparkles underneath the thin light of the sun beaming through the stain glass window. Everyone 'awes' and claps the brides, as you do at weddings, but Kate doesn't. She intentionally claps the bridesmaid instead. No one questions it, they're all clapping too.
The ceremony seems to go on forever. Kate seems to soften a bit at the beautiful couple as they say their vows, trying to suppress a smile at the warmth radiating off of them from the other side of the room. The blonde bridesmaid seems to be rather uncomfortable, fidgeting slightly in her seat upon the altar, glancing opposite herself every few seconds. She's wringing her hands together, something Kate recognises as a trait of her own whenever she's nervous. Why she's nervous, that, Kate doesn't know.
The rest of the ceremony runs along fairly smoothly. Just when Kate thinks it's time to head home, she's being nudged along by Peter to a courtyard just outside the venue. She can't hear much of what Peter says, but manages to hear the words "wedding breakfast" which ultimately confuses her but she goes along with it.
There's a sea of white marquees, each one shading an individual table from the burning heat and naked sun, blazing down viciously in its midday glory. There's a large raised pond positioned in the middle of the courtyard, the tables surrounding it in an orderly fashion, plants and flowers placed around it to give it a greener look. There's a bar too, something Kate picks up on fairly quickly. It's only a small thing, tucked away in the corner but the bold lettering across the front says otherwise. The courtyard walls are bricked, a small gap lays in the middle, presenting a wonder of greenery behind it.
Peter guides them both to their allocated table and Kate slumps down into a seat, tired and hungry, only to discover - after Peter tells her repeatedly - that she's sat in the wrong seat but rather some girl named "Yelena"'s seat. Grumbling to herself, Kate shuffles along and into the correct chair.
There's hardly anyone at their table at the moment; a couple are sat around the other side and there's a woman who looks slightly older than Peter sat next to Peter. And surprise, surprise, Peter is submerged into conversation with this woman, leaving Kate by herself yet again.
Kate sighs to herself, stomach rumbling. They still have to wait for the brides and their families to come back from taking photos before they can eat. She glances around, spots different types of plants winding up the pillars holding up the marquees, watches as a lily floats steadily across the still water of the pond, guided by the gentle breeze.
And then she spots her.
Amongst a large cluster of people, straggling behind in the back ever so slightly. And then she's walking over to Kate, to their table. And Kate can't seem to remember how to breathe.
Peter doesn't appear to notice when Kate's breath hitches and she starts to choke on absolutely nothing. She's glad, at first, but then the blonde is taking a seat. Taking a seat next to Kate. And Kate could die from embarrassment, really.
Yelena.
She's far too wound up in this whole situation that she's late on realising a slight issue. Isn't she a bridesmaid?
Kate frowns, glancing over her shoulder at the other tables. Why was she put on a table away from her family?
Kate doesn't question it again, not until much later anyway. She tries not to look at the blonde - Yelena, she presumes her name is - but it's deemed quite hard considering she's consumed Kate's attention for the majority of the wedding.
Yelena seems sort of out of it, gazing numbly at the empty plate neatly placed in front of her. Trying to stay composed, Kate clears her throat.
"Umm," she hums more to herself than anything, "Hi," she pauses, attempting to keep her cheeks a neutral colour instead of tinting pink like they're trying to do. She looks directly at the bridesmaid, a tight lipped smile tugging at her lips. Yelena glances up at her and Kate almost stumbles over her next words. "I'm Kate."
Yelena smiles with her eyes; her soft green eyes that remind Kate of spring, autumn and going for long walks in a forest.
"Yelena." She replies simply. Kate completely blanks out at the accent coating her voice. She was not expecting it and was completely caught off guard. Yelena's accent is thick, eastern-European Kate concludes, Russian maybe but she can't be sure. Her voice is deep, something Kate also didn't expect but by no means is complaining.
Her mind wanders away from her voice for a moment, catching a glimpse of hazel flecks in bright green eyes.
She's reminded of autumn and spring mixed into one. Of green and brown leaves, crackling fires outside of the chilly air, calming walks through long grass and forests with tree branches rippling above her head. Laughter swallowed up by a gentle breeze flowing through her hair. But she's also reminded of larger trees, crashing down onto the forest floor below, the leaves a swirl of green and brown, exactly the last colour she sees before she's too far gone. Trapped underneath the eyes attracting her like a magnet. The thing is, she's happy to go this way.
She's snapped back to reality by a variety of service people dispersing into the courtyard, carrying different plates of food. Kate doesn't know what Peter ordered for her, she just hopes it's edible.