The day before the wedding, Felix couldn't sit still.
Matteo found him at the piano at seven in the morning, still in pajamas, playing something soft and meandering that didn't quite resolve into a recognizable melody.
"Couldn't sleep?" Matteo asked, settling onto the couch with his coffee.
"Slept fine. Woke up at five. Brain won't turn off." Felix's fingers continued moving across the keys. "Did you know there are forty-seven different things that could go wrong tomorrow?"
"Forty-seven specifically?"
"I made a list. Want to hear it?"
"Not particularly."
"Rain. The caterer canceling. Me tripping walking down the aisle. You changing your mind—"
"Felix."
"—the flowers wilting, the music not working, my vows being terrible, your family hating me—"
"Felix." Matteo set down his coffee and crossed to the piano. "Stop."
Felix's hands stilled on the keys. "I'm spiraling."
"I can see that."
"It's just—tomorrow is—it's everything. What if I mess it up?"
