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Clark Grayson wants nothing more in life than to never be invited to another wedding again.

His dull green eyes scan the abundance of circular tables hosting dressed-up guests sipping champagne and chatting with people they just met. He uncomfortably shifts in his chair and glances at his best mate sitting next to his newly wedded wife at a rectangular table facing the crowd. They smile and giggle with each other sharing looks of pure love and happiness on their faces. A subtle pang of jealous stings his heart.

"Isn't that right, honey?" Nicola asks, patting his leg with her manicured hand. He catches a whiff of her floral perfume and resists the urge to sneeze.

Clark blinks, looking around the table at 9 faces awaiting his answer to a question he didn't even hear let alone process. In times like these, he says the standard "yes, sweetheart" answer to his lover and flashes a toothy smile.

"And the best part is, we're getting married!" Nicola juts her hand out so the whole group to admire her shimmering ring.

The women fawn over her ring as if it's as beautiful and breathtaking at the Mona Lisa or The Starry Night. Clark tunes out the shrieks of joy and stares blankly at the plate of half-eaten food in front of him. Suddenly, his tie feels like it's choking him, and his heavy pants and jacket are making him sweat.

Clark excuses himself from the table and walks out of the ballroom of the hotel to an open hallway on the ground floor. Giant windows allow for the sunset to brighten the halls as he wanders around with his hands shoved in his pockets, cooling himself off.

He used to think Nicola was the one for him, he truly did with all of his heart. But Clark misses the good old days when they would spend hours studying together in the library at uni and getting scolded by the librarian for being too loud. He aches to relive the days when they would stargaze on the grounds of campus and run all the way back to the dormitories in the pouring rain because England was rarely spared from taking the brunt of a nasty storm. He yearns with all of his being to have another late-night film date and make-out on the sofa like they did when they were young and carefree.

Nicola and Clark responded to the suppressing force of adulthood quite differently. While Nicola embraces her new role in the world by working as a marketer for Prada, Clark ends up in a modest position as a chemist at a small lab. For a guy who loves to live life to the absolute fullest, he thinks of the sterile labs making up his work place as the ultimate place to refuel his adventurous tendencies.

Clark stumbles upon a grand piano placed near the far wall of the wide hallway. Sitting down on the black wooden bench, he pushes up the wooden key cover and lays his tanned fingers on the instrument, softly pushing down on the rectangular keys. He's tentative at first because, after all, he hasn't played the piano in the three years since he's been living with Nicola, who told him his playing gives her migraines.

Time did not weather his skills; it somehow made him a better pianist. His fingers fly across the keys, and he nods his head as the beautiful, crisp sound of music flows freely into the air. Time stands still as he lets all of his penned-up creativity burst from his heart and flows to his fingers. Clark closes his eyes and groans in sheer delight; he didn't realize how much he missed making music until he started playing again.

When he finishes his masterpiece, he lets out a deep breathe, smiling to himself. Right as he reaches to cover the keys again, he hears a pair of hands clapping. Clark pauses, looking to his left, and makes eye contact with a young boy who couldn't be over the age of 10.

"That was awesome!" the kid says, running across the hall to join him.

"Thanks, champ, that means a lot to me," Clark replies, flustered that someone stopped to commend his performance.

"Cameron! What did I tell you about talking to strangers?!" an angry woman, presumably his mother, yells as she snatched the boy's hand and yanks him away from Clark. "Sorry, sir, for bothering you. My child has no manners at all."

"No, it's fine, you don't have anything to apologize for and neither does your son," he replies as the woman storms away with her son in tow, not even acknowledging the fact that he wasn't disturbed.

Clark slouches on the bench, letting his sandy hair fall over his eyes. He lets the key cover bang close and stands up again, heading towards the banquet hall. Though his heart aches to go anywhere but to the wedding again, he drags himself into the ballroom and sits back down next to his wife-to-be. Nicola smiles at her phone and types something to someone before realizing he's back again.

"Oh, hey," she says disinterestedly, staring at the glowing screen of her phone. She doesn't ask where he went or what he did or even so much as how he is feeling.

Clark slumps against the seat and chooses not to reply. He simply watches the newly wedded couple on the dance floor dance the night away as he and his fiancé become submerged in their separate thoughts.

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[A/N] Thanks for reading the first chapter of "Across the Pond" and getting this anthology to 100 reads! Leave a comment as to what you like or don't like, and point out my errors!! I want you guys to be engaged (pun not intended) and a part of what I write!