Chapter Text
Greg Hirsch has recently turned twenty nine. He’s got a part-time job at his grandfather’s charity organisation, a group of friends from high school, a promised (well, more so expected) inheritance of a hefty sum, and a smoking habit. Oh, and a long term girlfriend of almost six years.
What he doesn’t have is any sense of actually growing up and having to be a fully employed serious person at any point in the future. He’s almost thirty, God.
Standing in front of a mirror in his bathroom, Greg studies his reflection and tries to detect – far be it the first time – what is wrong with him. Appearance-wise he never had the illusion of being handsome or well-built or at least able to carry himself with assertiveness that made many less fortunate men look good. Puberty seemed to have only cared for his height, and otherwise he was still just a boney awkward… guy. As for character and manner, he wasn’t all too sure. Greg knew he was often regarded as immature, lazy and slow, wavering and lacking reason but… But he didn’t necessarily agree with that estimation. There was something else, hidden somewhere so deep and far that he would need a map to find it.
Good or bad, it’s lurking and thrumming under his skin and he is at a loss what to do about it. He wonders if he’ll actually grow out of it and if so – if he’ll welcome that change. It’s been making him feel particularly uneasy lately, as if he didn’t belong or wasn’t wanted around the closest people he had, most importantly-
“Greg!”
Right, get a grip. He should probably reschedule the breakdown for a later date. Greg checks his breath, straightens the collar and cuffs of the shirt, tries on his old sport jacket he hasn’t worn in years. As expected, it’s a poor fit. It probably was a poor fit the day he bought it but that’s beyond the point. So, no jacket.
“Gre-eg! We’re gonna be late!” Her voice is loud and cheerful despite the reprimand.
He combs his hair back one last time (to no avail, of course) and shouts out: “Yeah, yeah, Val, I’m here, coming.”
*
Val. Valerie Branson, a niece of a son of a friend of Grandpa Ewan’s. They were thrown at each other one night at a charity raise where Greg was supposed to start getting an understanding of ‘what’s what’ if he wanted at least a semblance of a job at Grandpa’s. He didn’t want it, not really, but he’d just dropped out of college and didn’t know what to do with his life. Grandpa, on the other hand, always knew ‘what’s what’ and had something real to offer him. Even though Greg was somewhat of a disappointment to the family, he still presented a welcome labour force - impressionable, financially dependent on Grandpa and therefore easily pushed around. Almost a dream employee if not for the general… Gregness of it all.
The raise in question was a disorienting experience, not in the least due to being introduced to Valerie, a promising business major and an athlete. But despite being sceptical about the whole thing and doubting he was interested in dating girls altogether, Val and he had a surprisingly fun night of talking trash about the guests and smoking weed behind the bushes outside of the building. Soon enough it was clear they were indeed a good match, at least for the time being - both easy going, both a weird contradicting mix of naive and cynical, both habitual creatures. Both not expecting too much out of the relationship – Val was desperately in love with another guy who’d left Canada a few months prior to the ball, and Greg… Well, Greg didn’t expect to love-love a girl. Not that he expected to love-love anyone, but if it were to happen at all - it would most likely be a man. She didn’t seem to mind.
Grandpa, on the other hand, minded quite a bit, and conveniently omitted that information from Val’s family; the general expectations, therefore, were high – Val was to be a good influence on Greg, Greg was to be agreeable and ‘mend her heart’, and, with any luck, they were to settle down together. It crumbled pretty fast, and not only with Greg predictably not filling the gap left by her ex properly, but even more so with Val following Greg’s example in dropping out of college and then quitting gymnastics to become a yoga and pilates instructor. And while they did settle somewhat, there were no plans of marriage or, God forbid, children.
Whatever Val’s family thought of the outcome, Grandpa found a girlfriend (any girlfriend at that point) to be better than a boyfriend by a milestone. As for the only other member of his family, Greg’s mother got uncharacteristically interested in him due to the new relationship until she remembered her sole purpose on Earth was to criticise Greg and decided she liked Valerie more than her own son. All in all, status quo was established.
Years went on and, though the arrangement initially worked out rather well… With life and people changing around them - it was getting harder and harder to hold their fort.
*
Greg comes out of the bathroom and hurries to the door to put on the shoes. He’s listening to Val, or at least he hears her, but otherwise he’s busy with loathing the ugly dress shoes that he was hoping she would forbid him to wear. She didn’t - she believed in autonomy of self and such. Greg, however, believed that at least one of the partners was obliged to have good taste and exercise it when needed.
“You’re always late, Greg,” she smiles with a slight frown. “Pull yourself together for Jer, you know how important it is to him.”
“Is it? I mean- I still can’t believe they’re actually doing it? Why is everyone suddenly getting married this year?” He truly doesn’t understand. “Like, sure, Meg and Nick have crazy parents and, okay, with Jer, Sarah got pregnant but the, uh, institution of marriage is like super overdue? And we all once agreed to-”
“I know, I know, hush. Come here,” she says, and Greg takes two small steps closer to her, “You look dapper tonight.” Highly unlikely - he has just seen himself in a mirror. “Even though you should get a haircut, it’s getting out of hand.”
“It kinda feels okay as is?” Before Val can say anything more about it Greg changes the subject: “The old jacket doesn’t fit.”
“We can’t do anything about it now, can we? Next time we’ll choose another dry cleaning,” she sighs, meaning his recently acquired but already ruined brown suit, and smoothes out the shirt over his shoulders. “This will have to do. How do I look?”
Greg shrugs at it, preoccupied with how the evening will go. (And just a little bit with that untimely sartorial loss of his). “As always. Good.”
She sighs, checking her purse before they head out.
“Val?” She looks back at him with a fond expression like she knows what he’s going to say. “You do. Look good. It’s just-”
“Yes, I know. Breathe and calm down, it’s going to be a great night.”
Greg doubts it. He stalls as much as he can to postpone the ordeal. “Do you think- Have you maybe noticed if the guys are being weird lately?”
“Uh, no, how so?”
“I- Like? Like they’re not… It’s dumb, I know, but they’re not the same?”
She smiles, but Greg recognises the look of frustration behind it. “Greg, we’ve all changed, grew up. It’s really okay, you know. You just… haven’t noticed.”
Greg thinks that he would’ve noticed growing up. What he notices instead is a clear mismatch in the moods whenever he hangs out with Jer, Nick and Snail. Snail doesn’t even go by ‘Snail’ anymore, he’s just ‘Ted’ now.
“Hey? I promise, it’s fine. You’re just nervous about the ceremony. And with being in between jobs…” Val pauses, trying to give it a better name, but has to opt for a wave of a hand. “It all looks a bit different when you’ve got too much time on your hands.”
“Maybe,” he concedes for now, even though the jobs part sounded weird and out of place-
“On that note, have you thought about the program? The park management?”
Ugh. That’s where she was going with it.
“Jesus, Val… Even Gramps gave up on those when they sold it over to- Norway? Or whatever. And like, I get him. So, no.”
“You still hold the shares.”
“Not as- You know it’s complicated. And it doesn’t mean I’m interested in... business or whatever it is that they do. Besides, Gramps will immediately cross me out of his will if I so much as mention Waystar-Royco.”
“It’s Waystar-Gojo, Greg, and it’s Swedish, actually.”
“Same thing.”
She doesn’t argue, just goes on as if she’s rehearsed it a million times: “I saw their video presentation last month at the WGJ Recreation retreat, they seem to have done a- Well, not a complete one eighty, but like maybe a ninety? In the last couple of years. So you-”
“No.” He breathes in and out. Val's preference for autonomy is, as always, more dress oriented than opinion. He’s a good sport about it most days, but there are limits to it. Not to mention that the night feels too agitating and ominous for all of this. “You said we’re gonna be late. Let’s maybe- put it on hold? And please don’t mention it to Grandpa if he attends the reception.” (Ideally, he won’t, but who knows. Jeremy’s parents were family friends and Grandpa frequently invites them to his events.) “Okay?”
“Sure.”
*
The wedding is a nightmare. Greg desperately tries to keep a smile on his face, but the truth is that now that he said it out loud - all he can think about is the fact that all his friends feel like strangers to him. This night is like one big fat nail in the coffin, and, with certain sombreness, he’s back to wondering what he's to do with his life.
Finally, he’s got space to breathe once Val saves him from the crowd and gently leads him to their now empty table in the far corner of the wedding hall. Everyone is on the dancefloor, and Greg feels relieved to get out of there, having been teetering on the edge of having a panic attack for the last hour.
Thoughts of all sorts have been creeping up on him: the recent soul-draining talk with his grandfather regarding a failed charity dinner (which was only partly Greg’s fault); the suddenly resurfaced bitterness at dropping out during his last year at college due to poor academic performance; the carefully suppressed memories of the… of the past relationship he had with Alex - a guy from high school who was sat two tables across from them tonight and who was giving Greg fleeting glances every now and then; the whole-
At some point, when Greg anxiously looks around in a half-hearted attempt to flag down a waiter and ask for another glass of champagne, Val casually slides off her chair onto one knee. Almost as if she needs to fix her shoes. Greg returns his attention to her and looks down at her feet, checking if she needs help, but the shoes look fine to him. Instead, Val procures a small blue box and says-
“Marry me.”
The world narrows down to the dim glimpse of the gold band inside the box. That has to be the first sign of Apocalypse, Greg thinks before his brain shuts down. He’s gonna be sick.
“Val, God-,” he mutters, promptly pulling her up by shoulders, placing her back on the chair and throwing a cursory look around. Thankfully, no one seems to have noticed. “Like-?”
“Greg, hey,” she cups his cheek with her cool hand in a what is probably meant as a gesture of comfort. Except that he’s not comforted at all. “It’s not that big, right? Just marry me.”
Greg is sure his face should give Val a clear idea of what he’s thinking about that, and yet she smiles back at him like he’s a child and she knows better what he should think. Trying to keep the ghastly food from the reception in his stomach and blindly reaching for someone’s glass of something hopefully strong, he tries to wrap his brain around it.
“Well, it is, like. It is kinda big, though, no?”
“Only if you want it to be?” She asks for good measure and then shakes her head. “Greg, silly, don’t panic, we can just? Elope, you know? We don’t have to make a whole thing out of it, I know you’d hate that.”
Greg thinks that the hypothetical ceremony is far from his biggest concern about this.
“Right, but. We’ve? We’ve talked about this uh- this marriage thing?” Mere hours ago!
“I know it’s scary. But that could be a good thing, hon.”
Greg keeps silent at that, eyes darting across the room, looking for a way out. There’s nothing but- Damn it.
“I just- I have to take this, okay?” He reaches for his most definitely not ringing phone, fishing it out from his pocket and shaking it in a surely idiotic way, but it has to do.
“What?”
“Yeah, this call? Like- I’ll be back in a second, so…” He doesn’t finish the sentence and flees the table, the room, the hotel.
*
Once outside, he finds the nearest bench and grips its back, trying to not go into hyperventilating. It’s late March and the cold evening air is too humid, heavy, harsh in his lungs.
“Greg?” God, no, no, not him, not now. “Hey, listen to my voice. Deep breaths, right? It’s not hard, let’s.” It’s so unfair, Greg would think if he could think at all at the moment, that the first time he meets Alex again after all these years - he should be in this state. “In - one, two, three, and out - one, two, three. Repeat, just like that, in…”
He doesn’t have it in him to hate the way Alex still has a calming effect on him. They never dated, just fucked around during their senior year at school and then a first or so after graduation, but he always was attentive like that, always walked Greg through panic attacks with ease.
Greg registers that he’s being sat down and feels hands reassuringly rubbing his shoulders. Focuses his vision on the painfully familiar face up close, able to count all the freckles on it. Alex’s small smile grows wider and, with an air of familiarity that he doesn’t really have a right to anymore, pulls Greg into a light kiss before breaking it off and gently tapping on Greg’s cheek.
“You haven’t changed. All good?” He relaxes by Greg’s side, letting go of him. “Got cigarettes on you?”
“Uh huh,” Greg dumbly gets a crunched pack and a lighter from his front jeans pocket and offers it.
“No, no, for you. Go on.”
Greg stares at his own hands. Gets out a cigarette, lights it on and takes a drag, side-eyeing Alex. He’s not sure what has happened, but it’s easy to slip into their old dynamics.
“Thanks.”
“Very old school of you, I’m surprised,” he gestures to the pack.
Greg shrugs. “I keep forgetting my vape all the time. Got these in a convenience store nearby.”
Alex laughs. “Not surprised then, not at all. You kept forgetting to buy condoms all the fucking time.”
“Dude…”
“No, sorry, I know. Sorry about the kiss, too. Wanted to distract you.” Greg huffs but he’s thankful. “Still getting attacks? Bad.”
“First one in years.”
“Let’s hope, the last one, too. Bad night?” Greg doesn’t answer but it’s probably written all over his face. “I get it, the reception is dragging. Wanna get wasted?”
“I mean-”
As they stand up Greg sees a looming figure by the entrance to the hotel, watching them - unmistakably Grandpa - and his blood runs cold.
Alex looks in the same direction and starts fucking waving. “Mr. Roy! Long time no see!”
Greg dies inside all over again as Grandpa turns around and goes inside.
“I think he still doesn’t like me.”
“Fuck you, man…” It’s not the first time they’re caught like that by Ewan, and Greg vividly remembers receiving a cold shoulder for an entire year after the incident. It was never brought up again and, shortly after, the relationship with Alex - albeit for other reasons - died off.
Greg miserably looks at him. “About those drinks?”
“Fuck yes, let’s go.”
*
It’s ten in the morning when Marianne unceremoniously wakes Greg up and pushes him out of the door without further ado. A foggy memory of stumbling into his childhood home late at night, drunk and giddy, having just left nearly unconscious Alex at his parents house a block away, floats up in his mind. He sneaked in without waking his mom and immediately passed out on the couch. For once, he understands her irritation with him.
He takes an Uber to his apartment and, despite his expectations, Valerie is still asleep when he comes in. Probably drank a bit too much as well. She gets out of the bed at his arrival, sleepy and confused, gulps down a glass of water on the standby, carefully put there before they left the house last night. Greg always liked her unfaltering meticulousness.
“Jesus, Greg… What the hell was that?”
“Um. There was an urgency with- With Mom, so I…”
Val’s expression quickly changes to sympathy and she sits on the bed, instantly alert and awake. “Oh, hon, crap. Is she good, though? Was it-”
“A… A false alarm. But it sounded bad at the time. And then- you know how she gets. Spent the night telling me off for the sins of the human kind.” Greg wishes he had to invent it but, alas, he simply pulls out of his memory the latest fight they had.
“Give her a break, Greg.”
Not this. “Are you serious?”
“She is… She loves you. Just doesn’t know how to make you listen.”
“I-” He breathes in and tries to strangle the desperate urge to scream. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“Of course. Sorry.” She rubs her eyes and looks around the room. Gets him into the shower and leaves to find something that could pass for breakfast.
*
Greg dries off and changes into pyjamas before coming out of the bedroom and instantly hearing the inevitable-
“About yesterday-”
“Yes!” He adds cheer to his voice in hope to placate Val. “Yes, about that-”
“Yes?” She beams at him.
“No! No, I mean, yes to the ‘yesterday’ part.”
“What?”
Come on, come on, stop this. Be clear, don’t stutter, say it out loud. “I mean?” Why on Earth would you propose? “And then eloping?” For fuck’s sake, no. “That’s not a-”
“I know, I know, ‘what about the families?’, but then whatever, you hate crowds. You know I love your mom and Ewan…”
“Please, no-”
“Right, right, hence eloping! You know what, I’m just following my gut here but let’s… Let’s just pack things and go? Today, tomorrow-”
Alarm sirens go off in Greg’s head and his tongue doesn’t seem to obey him.
“Um, stop, stop. No?” He doesn’t want to disappoint her but how else-
“No?”
Ah, fuck. You’re losing the room, Greg. Lie, lie, buy yourself time.
“Only it’s- The management program? The one you mentioned.” Oh no. “Waystar. Roy- GoJo.” Don’t go there, Greg. “I thought about it and I actually, like, maybe enrolled?”
“Oh.” Val seems a bit disoriented. Good, throw her off, gently. “I mean, oh! Greg, it’s great news!! I knew you would love it once you gave it a proper thought! The charity gig isn’t… It’s not a profession, not a job. You could do better.” Okay, kinda low? But sure, now’s not the time to take offence.
“Yeah… And it- just, well, I have to go immediately? Like, to make it to this quarter… program?”
She slows down. “Immediately how?”
“Yeah, like today, tonight actually.” Too far. Greg has no idea where those programs were held and how long they took.
“Do you even- Crap, do they cover your tickets?”
“Tickets, right, they… Do?”
“Okay… I mean, it’s a flight, right? You’re too car sick to go on a bus over to NY like that. Jesus, and on such short notice… When did you know?”
Fuck. But then, often to his detriment, Greg’s terribly good at lying on the spot.
“Yeah, no, someone actually dropped out at the last minute and well, here’s my lucky chance!” Without any stuttering, just like that, sealing the deal. “I didn’t want to spoil it to you yesterday, in case it didn’t-”
“Right,” Val hums and her thoughts seem to go completely in the direction of making sure that the trip goes smoothly. “I guess the train is also a no go, too long…”
Graciously, she doesn’t demand to see any proof, but by the time Greg finds himself in the passport control line at the airport - he almost wishes she did.
*
“Greg? Greg!”
“Hm, yes?”
“Are you even listening? I can’t go any further without a ticket.” Ah.
“Not really, sorry. I’m- A bit nervous. Funny, right?”
“Oh, hon, it’s fine. Just two weeks.”
“Yeah, two weeks…”
He’s not terribly sure what he’ll be doing in New York for two weeks or even where he’ll be staying. But at least there’s some weird policy of no mobile devices and internet during the Waystar intensive training program - to enhance the experience or something. Transcendent luck, as it will save Greg the ordeal of lying to Val through his teeth on a daily basis.
“I’m so proud of you, you know. And it actually works out perfectly with my schedule for the month.”
“Hm?”
“I made arrangements, tweaked some of the shifts and Beth will cover for me so when you come back we can quickly tie the knot, huh? And even have an express honeymoon.”
“Oh, but I thought… The program, you know? Like it’s a- a big commitment, and then I have to sort it out with the job, and Mom and Gramps are…” He’s just saying what he thinks she wants to hear at this point. God help him to get out of this alive and still in a good relationship with her. “So… Yes?” Surely, she understands.
“Yes! Totally, it won’t change the, you know, trajectory of things.”
Phew. “Right, so the program and all first and-?”
“Yes, sure. And then- Yes?”
Greg kinda lost it with all the yes’es but it seems they’ve finally settled on pushing this wedding discussion to a later date. “Yes! Yes, good!”
A light kiss and a tight hug, and he boards the plane with a clear conscience. Perhaps, he should feel bad about it, but the only thing he feels is relief. No wedding in sight, no one is hurt. For once - well done. And, hopefully, when he comes back they can kill it for good. He’ll surely come up with something more eloquent than ‘fuck, oh fuck, fuck no’.