I woke up to the most obnoxious sound in the world I could've ever imagined: Pachelbel's Canon.

Seriously, fuck this song. It's everywhere, it's boring, and it's dull as fuck. Where to begin with it? First, let's get out of the way the fact that is not a canon. A Canon is something like "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" when one part starts and other starts behind and makes this clusterfuck of a song, but hey! It's cool.

Pachelbel's Canon? None of that shit. It doesn't have canon because it ads a continuous bass line, 8 fucking notes that repeat at-infinitum, without an ounce of variation, 54 times, as everyone else shreds equally inane shit around it. It's the musical equivalent of the myth of Sisyphus, punished by the gods to push a boulder up a hill, only to fall right back before reaching the top and having to do it over and over again.

To me, that's what Pachelbel's Canon is—a punishment in D, A, B, F#, G, D, G, A, that repeats until I die of boredom. I know I have a tendency to blow things out of proportion, but I literally have a surplus of fucks when it comes to describing why I hate Pachelbel's Canon. Why the fuck do we even care about a son by the Baroque equivalent of Coolio's Ganstas' Paradise? Seriously, talk about a one-hit wonder.

Wait, if Pachebel's Canon is punishing me, it can only mean one thing...

"Hey," says Jin, shoving Juan with his beef-sirloin shoulder, "the ceremony's starting. Wanna sneak out to see the boss walking down the altar?"

Juan shakes his head vigorously, almost making his round shades fly out of his round head. "No. Boss told us to stay here, so we stay here."

Jin nudges him once again. "C'mon, Juan. We will only see the boss walk down the aisle once, you know? Don't you want to see him all dressed up to marry what will be the love of his life for, like, two years until she dies of mysterious circumstances and a revolving door of partners come and go that make him more empty like the last?"

Juan turns around to see us, and I play dead, I kinda open an eye to see if he turned around, and he does. He takes out a handkerchief and cleans away a stray tear, using the same handkerchief to blow his nose.

"I wouldn't wanna miss it for the world," says Juan, pointing a thumb back at us. "But what about them?"

"They're gonna be fine," says Jin, putting a hand around his companion. Well, about three-quarters of him, that is. "Five minutes, in and out, nobody will know."

"Alright, five minutes," says Juan.

Both of them practically prance out of the room in glee, leaving us three alone. Well, not alone if you count the ever-destructive presence of Pachelbel's Canon. Which I do. I've lost count of how long it has been going, but I know it's gonna be at least five more minutes of this hellhole. But most importantly, it's five minutes of uninterrupted attempts to leave this place.

I try to shimmy out of these ropes, but there's no use. This is some shibari-bondage levels of knotting right here. I feel like the more I struggle, the more it digs into my skin, and this is definitely not natural rope, so my skin is red and puffy, making it even tighter. It's a vicious circle. Just like Pachebel's Canon. See? It can even be used to describe punishment.

If I want to get out, I'll need some help on this.

"Hayden!" I yell, but I see no budge. "Hayden, god dammit, wake the fuck up! We only have a few minutes of this bullshit."

Still, not a stir, barely a breath.

I use my strength and momentum to shimmy the chair closer to him, kinda like a crab tied to a rock. Why a crab? Because I'm sure that if crabs had ears, they would also hate Pachelbel's Canon.

"Hayden," I whisper into his ear, or as close as I could, "they're gonna open the oven before the souffle is done."

Hayden's bloodshot eyes open up so fast that a gust of wind blows me away, almost knocking me to the ground.

"Don't touch my fucking oven!" he yells, almost like a Saiyan powering up. If he had enough hair to flow in the wind and turn yellow, I would be worried. The energy dissipates a second later when reality sets in. "Wait, I didn't put anything in the oven. Where am I? And what's that horrible sound?"

"Hell, and Pachelbel's Canon," I say. "Hence the hell part."

"I thought we were in Brayden's basement."

"I see no difference," I say.

Hayden shimmies to the right, enough to face me. "Wait, if Canon is playing, that would mean that the ceremony just started."

"Yes," I say, now my turn to shimmy away so my back is facing him. "Now, help me get off these damned things and skedaddle out of here!"

"What, no! We can't just leave, brother. We have to stop this farce of a wedding."

Oh boy, here we go again. I shimmy the chair back to face him. Need I remind you that every move cuts my circulation more and more? I look like a sexy grape, one Dyonisius himself would use to make a sexy wine. "Why? This isn't our problem. Brayden doesn't want to be a mafioso! He wants to be a sugar-baby to the stars. And he only liked Y/N because he thought his father introduced her to him and wanted to make him proud. There is literally no reason why we should meddle here."

"I can think of one reason," he says.

"Which would be?"

"Stopping this wedding will be the only way we can get you back to school!"

Oh, word? We're having this conversation? Okay, okay. Let's try to dial down my toxicity.

"And what's the point of doing that? It's not like I can get back into the club, which doesn't exist anymore. Not like you went out of your way to tell me that."

What can I say? I said I was going to "try" and dial it down.

Hayden deflates like a Patriot's football, shaking his head left and right. "Brother, we don't have time for this. Can we not fall into the cliche of arguing the point while the clock is ticking? We will have enough time to answer that once we save this wedding."

"Oh, so now I'm doing a cliche?" I say, doing a cliche. It's like my body is being overtaken by a very sassy drag queen. "Tell me, you already lied to me once. Why should I believe in you?"

"Because I believed in you!" he says in a short burst, almost tripping over his words.

And then, silence. Well, not silence. Pachelbel makes sure there is at least something annoying breaking it all the time. We are about halfway there by my estimations.

"I believed in you," he repeats, taking my silent monologue as a pregnant pause, when the silence was just retaining water. "I took a leap of faith when I met you, believing you to be someone like us. And I was right. I'm now asking you to have faith in me."

...Dammit, Hayden. I can't say no to that lopsided smile. It moistens my breeches. "Fine. I'll shut my trap for now, but we are having this convo later. Also, can we talk about why Brayden is 22 and still in high school?"

"Also later," says Hayden. "First, how do we get out of here?"

Brain blast time. I'm tied with a rope, but Hayden is tied with duct tape. He can get out faster than I can. Let's go with that.

"Do you have anything in your pockets that I can use to break you free?" I ask.

We both shimmy to be back to back, and for your hands to reach each other's pockets.

"Well, I like my skinny jeans, so I don't have much on me, but I think I have my keys in there," he says.

I put my hand in his pocket, feeling the searing heat of the synthetic fabric rashing my poor hand. I move fast and hasty, grasping something big in the process.

"Hey, you told me you didn't have anything in there, but you have like a huge cylinder here. Is it a flashlight? What the hell?"

"Brother," he says, shimming away a bit, "that's not my flashlight. That's my dick."

Sweet salame of Massimo Bottura. Okay. Sorry.

"Well, other than that piece of shmeat, I can't find anything," I say, feeling my face heat up. Or it might be the rash. "Try me."

He puts his roast-beef hands in my pockets, or at least as most as it can fit, and starts rummaging through it.

"A wallet, thirty bucks, a credit card, and vape-pen," he says. "Maybe we can sharpen the pen with the credit card and make a homemade shiv with it?"

"Well, we can try, but I don't think a Juul can be sharpened that quick. Are you sure you took everything out of my pockets? I feel something else, deep down."

"I'm not gonna give you a reach-around, brother."

"Just put your hand deep and pull that shit," I bark.

He inserts his fingers deep inside my pocket, pawing at that little thing at the end of it, and finally manages to grasp it, pulling it out.

"It's a pebble," says Hayden. "It feels smooth and hot."

A pebble? I don't remember putting a pebble in my pocket. "Give it here."

He puts the pebble in my hand, and I can feel something overtake the incessant drone of Pachelbel for a second: whispers in a language I cannot understand. Wait, I know what this is.

"This is the pebble Okayden gave me!" I say, and say again, and again, and again, reverberating in an endless echo.

The room shattered into a thousand pieces. Hayden shatters into a thousand pieces of red glass. There is nothing I can see but endless swirling of crimson energy ebbing and flowing into nothing. The room itself is gone. Everything is gone. Only me and the void remain.

And when you stare at the void, the void stares back at you. The void also has a Borsalino hat and a blue scarf. Wait.

"Okayden?" I ask, my voice echoing like thunder in the mountains.

"You have summoned me,

Using the Ruby of Tohk,

Speak your wish, brother."

"Excuse me, what the fuck is happening?" I ask.

"We are in a pact,

Our souls are entwined right now,

One and the same-ish."

"Is this some kind of kinky shit like when Jacob imprinted on Bela's baby? Cuz that shit was creepy."

The void kept quiet. Until it wasn't. "Yes."

"God-dammit, dude. Okay, okay. One step at a time. Where are you? I would've thought you had been captured as well."

The void swirled a bit more in confusion.

"I was outside then,

And I was not invited

When the meal ended."

My poor baby. Kinda forget that vampire rules are kinda bullshit. "Alright, so what's the deal here? You can feel what I feel? Do I have immunity to werewolves? Do I go berserk mode?"

"No, nothing like that,

You can summon me always,

And I can as well."

Oh, dip. I got Okayden as a Final Fantasy Summon. This can come in handy.

"Alright. Okayden McHuman, I summon thee to my aid!" I yell.

There is silence. Well, you know the deal. You're never silent with Pachelbel around.

"Nothing's happening," I say.

"You still need one thing,

To invite me into the house,

It is cold out here."

"Fine, you can come in and help me or something."

A gong echoes through the swirls and the room reconstructs itself like a jigsaw puzzle. The only difference is that Okayden is now standing in front of us, being kawaii as fuck.

"What the fuck just happened?" asks Hayden. "You disappeared in a swirl of smoke and now Okayden is here?"

Okayden grabs one of his filthy nails and rips both our bonds in less than a second.

"No time for that," I say, as the last note of Pachelbel's Canon comes to a close. "Time to go crash a wedding."