What can I say? My life has been utter bliss since, you know, the world imploding.

The school year went by in a flash. Hayden worked all year as a busboy at a local hotel, working up the kitchen ladder to become a part-time prep cook. His cooking skills have improved tenfold, and he has a guaranteed job at the hotel when he graduates culinary school.

I, on the other hand, am about to pursue a degree in literature. I have a knack for churning out stories, believe it or not. Mostly about bad boys. Who would've thought that being a walking main character in my previous life would translate to my current one? My debut novel, "My Bad Boy Quarterback Millionaire Ex-Boyfriend is an Mpreg Butt-spanking Werewolf" has piqued quite the interest of a few agents.

Needless to say, one of us has a more dignified job than the other. But that doesn't matter, because by this time tomorrow, what is his will be mine, and what's mine will be his'. That's right, tomorrow is our wedding!

I look at the gold band in my ring as the moonlight reflects upon the moissanite crystal embedded on it. We ain't millionaires after all. Heh, "we." We are a we, after all. A being of two souls. It almost feels unreal, to be able to be with the man I love without anything else between us. Both literally and relatively.

I'm sitting on his lap, both covered by a blanket as a fire roars in front of us. The endless night sky is sprawled above us, twinkling, I want to believe, just for the two of us. Hayden is holding a beer, taking sips as he caresses my forearms. It couldn't get any better than this.

"so, who's gonna be the boy and who's gonna be the girl?" asks Brayden, sitting next to us, vaping like the Silicon Valley douche he is.

I stand corrected, it could be at least a Brayden% better. Not like we can tell him to fuck off. He was so kind as to allow us to use his family mansion as a wedding venue. You can say a lot about the last wedding held there--starting with all that kidnapping and "Sister Trap" shenanigans--but it was beautiful. We were all sitting around a firepit in his backyard, just enjoying the night as a kind of bachelor party.

"Brayden, my man,

That is sexist, a lot,

Don't be a douchebag," says Okayden, flanking us on the other side. He's wearing a Foot Locker uniform over his overalls, making him look twice as bulkier than usual. Thankfully, it's not a full moon out.

Unlike Brayden, who used his future knowledge to make as much money as he could, Okayden only convinced his mother to, A) Don't be a dick to Trevor, and B) Open up business to the outside world. One thing leads to another, and we have in front of us the manager of the first Foot Locker in the world who sells hoof-shoes and elf socks.

To each their own, I suppose.

"Yeah, brother, not cool," says Hayden. His now pudgier belly makes him the perfect improvised mattress. I mean, don't get me wrong, his six-pack was hot, but his belly is a snack. "You know that's a harmful stereotype."

"dude, i meant it, like, who's gonna change their last name," says Brayden.

"We're gonna hyphen it, Gomez-Wilson," I say.

"so, you're the boy, then," says Brayden.

I feel Hayden stirring beneath me. Dammit, I was getting comfy. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. That's not what we agreed on."

"Of course it is," I say. "We agree to hyphen it."

"I mean, yes, but we never agreed on Gomez-Wilson," says Hayden.

"Well, I thought it was a given! Hyphens are done in alphabetical order. G comes before W. It should be Gomez-Wilson!"

Brayden raises his beer to his lips, looking away with a shit-eating smile. "oh, trouble in paradise, i see..."

"You zip it, Satan," says Hayden. He stirs further on his seat, now practically sitting up. "And no. I asked you to marry me, so I get to be the first."

"What's that supposed to mean? What does it have to do with anything?" I say, standing up from his legs.

Hayden stands up as well, towering over me. "Well, it's like when I invite you out to dinner. And invitation means I pay for you. Same here. I invited you to marry me, and I get to put my name first!"

"That's not how it works!" I say. This is dumb. Stupid. Silly, even. It's only a last name, after all. And yet, why is he so insistent?

And that's when I see it. That fire in his eyes. The fire of competition, that desire to be the best and number one in anything. Fuck me. He still has some of that bad boy energy in him! Old habits die hard, I guess.

I should just let it go and let him have his way. It's a silly matter, anyways.

And yet... what if he does it again? What if he sees our relationship as a competition, rather than a cooperation? Will he assert his will when it comes to our house? Our finance? Our children? Hell no. I gotta nip this in the bud, right now.

I stomp as hard as I can, which was a huge mistake, 'cuz there's this sharp rock on my crocs now. Yeah, I wear crocs. Fuck you, they're comfy.

Hayden stomps twice as hard as me. Hope he chokes on a rock as well. "I ain't compromising on this."

"And neither am I," I say.

Okayden reaches out behind Brayden and smacks him in the back of the head. It sounds hollow. Troublesomely hollow. "Look at what you've done,

Now they are fighting over,

Nothing, you goblin."

"me?" says Brayden with a sly smile. "i didn't do nothing. i'm just a little boi. a small baby. just a tiny little thing. a cool dude."

"It seems we are at an impasse," says Hayden.

"So it seems," I add. "Unless you yield this petty little thing. Not everything in this world is a competition."

"Over my dead body," says Hayden.

Is this it? All this world-destroying business, just to crumble away thanks to some dumb name thing? Come on, Hayden. Just yield. Let it go.

But I know the truth. He's not gonna let it go.

"Fine, you wanna play, big boy? Let's play."

Hayden takes a step back, eyeing me with suspicion. Truthfully, I've never matched his energy before, so it must be quite a confusing moment. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You finna play? You're gonna get beat. You and me, one on one, winner takes all."

Hayden takes another step back in contemplation, but I can see the fire in his eyes swelling with fighting spirit. He does see this as a competition!

"What do you have in mind?" says Hayden.

"mommy and daddy are gonna fight!" yells Brayden, earning himself another smacking from Okayden.

"I'm thinking... rock paper scissors? Two out of three, best wins. Winner gets to have his last name first."

"Denied," says Hayden. "That's luck-based, not skill based. I propose something skill-based, like dodgeball!"

"Vetoed. You might not have your muscle strength, but you have muscle memory. I'm gonna get destroyed. Why don't we simply flip a coin?"

"Hell no!" he says. "I said nothing luck-related. No Candyland, no Snakes and Ladders, no flipping a coin. That's not playing, that's letting things up to the universe."

"What's wrong with letting things up to the universe?" I say. "Let silly things be decided by silly acts."

"Yeah, what's wrong with letting the universe decide?" said a fourth voice. Said fourth voice seemed to be composed of many other voices, all overlapping each other, like a pack of wildebeest trampling over a father figure.

We all turn around in unison to see a figure sitting on a lounge chair, drinking a fruity cocktail out of a coconut. The being shifts hair color, size, ethnicity, and even genders every second, like a rippling pond. It also has a punchable, unmoving face.

It's the being at the end of time. The new Fortuna, made out of all my past lives. Let's call it... Bingus.

"You!" I say.

"Hello, young ones," says Bingus.

"If it isn't God, in the flesh," says Hayden.

"We are a god, without the capital g," says Bingus. "And speaking of flesh, you have packed quite a lot. We are pleased."

"yo, hayden. i think jesus just called you a fatty."

"What are you doing here?" I call to him. "I thought you were not going to meddle in our affairs, unlike the last one."

"We have an interest in this wedding getting executed without an issue," says Bingus. It began to float in place, disintegrating both the lounge and the drink into a million particles. What a diva. "After all, the universe was destroyed countless times to make it happen. It would be a shame to be jeopardized by such silly squabbles."

"See? God is on my side!' says Hayden. "Just let me--"

"Not so fast, Hayden," says Bingus. "A marriage is a fusion of two souls, and two wills into one. One can't overpower the other, for both sides must agree on how to exist in mutual harmony. You have defied said harmony by overimposing your will onto your partner."

"Hah! See?" I say, trying to smirk like a bad boy. Somehow, it doesn't feel the same. "Just let go and--"

"And you, Ayden," says the being, "you cannot unilaterally dismiss your partner's feeling like that, without proper communication. That is also a threat to your existence."

"Oh, fuck off," I say.

Hayden, in a sign of compromise, speaks up as well. "Yeah, fuck up, you dildo. What do you know about balance? You unilaterally decided to destroy the world without my input, like, a hundred times."

Bingus remains still and unflinching, not a shred of feeling behind their eyes. "We are many in one. We know a bit about balance. And yet, you have a point."

Bingus raises their hands upwards and snaps his fingers. A ball of ice suddenly forms between us, about the size of Hayden. It's almost completely transparent.

"You would make a good,

Flare bartender, you know, bud?

Or a street wizard," says Okayden.

The being ignores him completely. "Since you two are so keen on duking it out, I propose a simple game of endurance. It doesn't provide luck, or muscle advantage, just a good-old-fashioned game of last man standing."

Hayden steps in front of the ball of ice, tapping it with his fingers a couple of times. "Elaborate."

"Simply place your hands upon the ball of ice. The last one to take their hand out of the ice, wins."

That sounds deceptively simple. I smell a trap here.

However, Hayden is already beating me to the punch, placing his hand on the ball... and almost immediately removing it.

"Shit, that's cold!" says Hayden. "I'm gonna get cold burns from this!"

"Hence the endurance part," says Bingus. "Will you swallow your pride and remove your hand before getting frostbite? Or will you soldier on and win? I'm looking forward to seeing who wins."

Brayden waddles to the being, holding a $20 bill in hand. "hey, i'll bet ya ayden chicken out first. you want in on the action."

The being simply looks at Brayden with disdain before disappearing in a ball of light.

"I'm game," says Okayden. Great, now they're betting on the downfall of this relationship. And there's no way I can back down now.

With a nod, I raise my hand towards the ice ball. He needs to learn a lesson, right here, right now. He does the same, hovering just above the ball.

"Ready, set... go!" yells Hayden.

And sweet little booties of baby Jesus, it's cold! Why is it so hot if it's cold? I feel it in my bones. It's taking me every ounce of strength not to pull out. Heh, being there, am I right? No, bad Ayden! No sex jokes! Just survive!

Hayden is all scrunched up and fidgety, but his hand is unmoving. He's even holding his right hand with his left hand.

"In pain, old sport? That's a shame, innit," I say in a British accent. Why am I speaking in a British accent? Oh, God, the pain is changing my accent!

Hayden gives me a pained smirk, shifting his weight from left to right. "Me? Nah. I can do this all day!"

I can't even do this for four more minutes. Hell, I don't even feel my fingers anymore. "Come on, babe. This is silly. You can't try and strongarm your way into things. Let go and let it happen. A relationship shouldn't be a competition."

He shifts his weight towards me. "Nope, not gonna happen. You let go and let me have this. I need this."

"Why? Why do you need to overpower me? I'm your fiance, not your enemy. Why is it so important to you?"

"Exactly, you are my fiance," says Hayden. "I want to protect you. I want to protect us. To be man enough for you."

"What the hell are you talking about? Of course you're man enough for me!" I say.

Suddenly, the ball of ice starts to melt. The surface becomes wet and slick, shrinking rapidly for a few seconds before it's half the size. That bitch! He tried to juke us!

"I wouldn't know," says Hayden. "When there are problems, you always take the initiative and never let me in on your plans. It's like, whenever there's an issue, you bottle up. You never communicate with me!"

"No, I don't!" I yell. "I'm just... proactive, is all."

"And I love you for it!" says Hayden. "I would love it if you can let me in more when you need help. You're not alone, fighting against fate. You are my partner. We can overcome everything, together."

The ice ball shrinks again, this time, to about a basketball size. We almost trip on each other as we scramble to keep our hands on it.

"I... babe, I never knew you felt like that," I say.

"Communication doesn't seem to be our strong forte," says Hayden. The ball shrinks a little further, up to a softball. Our fingertips are touching now. "Why are you against putting my name first."

"I'm... not, actually," I tell him. "I love you, Hayden, but sometimes, I feel like you take me as someone to compete against, not as a partner to compete with, always asserting your will on me. I feel that, if I buckle on this, you might try to overpower my point of view in other things down the line. I wanted to teach you a lesson."

Again, the ball shrinks, down to a mere marble. We grasp each other's hands, keeping the ice marble between us.

"Babe..." meanders Hayden. "You could've talked to me about this, instead of trying to brute-force your views on me. You know I love you, and if we slow down and talk about it, we can work through anything."

With that, he leans down, giving me a peck on the lips.

"I love you, too," I say, embracing him in a half hug. "And I'm sorry. I get lost in my mind, and I'm not good at communicating. I misunderstood you, and I promise to work on it, step by step. I would be honored to have your last name as the first ot the hyphen."

And with that, I can feel the last of the ice melt away, leaving us holding our hands together, tightly, closer than ever.

Oh, Bingus, you clever bitch. Was this some type of metaphor? Alone and entrenched in our stubbornness, we are cold and alone, but by communicating, we can melt the ice between us? Maybe it's just a coincidence, or maybe it was something greater than ourselves. But for now, I'm just happy to have my man back.

The wedding is simple, and yet, beautiful. The birds are signing, the flowers are blooming, and Hayden is crying at the altar, just like a good husband should.

"Are you okay, baby?" says my mother, holding onto my left arm. "It's okay to cry."

"And it's okay not to cry," says my father, grabbing my right arm. "Whatever you do, don't run away. And if you are running away, better do it now and not at the altar. My ear still hurts from trying that when I married your mother!"

"Babe!" yells mom.

"I'm just saying, she has a mean pinch!"

I've been waiting a long time for this. I'm not running away. "It's time."

And with that, us three begin our walk down the isle, to the sound of... is that mother fucking Pachelbel?

I give Jungkook and Harry a killer look, which makes them nod. Harry grabs the conductor from behind and whacks him unconscious with a stick, dragging him away. Jungkook steps in front of the conductor's stand, grabs the baton, and after a few seconds, begins to conduct the nuptial march. Ahh, music to my ears.

In front of me is the love of my life, ready to join our families to become one. Next to us are our friends and comrades, our loved ones lost and found. This day couldn't get any better.

This is it. This is my happily ever after. The end of the road.

Thank you, dear reader, for sticking around. If there are any left, that is. For now, my tale is over. Our tale is over. And it all ends with a single phrase, an answer, really.

"I do."