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Something wasn’t right. Something felt very, very wrong. He’d been excited before, he’d swear by that, but something had changed. Something was different now that he stood in that suit. It was too tight, but not actually, if anything the suit was too big for his stick-thin form. But it felt too tight. It felt like it was restricting him, like the walls were closing in, except the walls were wrapped around his body.
This didn’t make sense. He wanted this. This time he was certain. Or he had been.
He did want this, didn’t he?
What was he thinking, of course he wanted this! It was Stan!
But then, what was he feeling in that moment? It felt an awful lot like… Dread.
He unbuttoned his coat, hoping that perhaps the suit was actually too tight.
It wasn’t helping.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be better this time. He was supposed to be happy this time.
Rick lowered himself to the floor, back against the wall. His head was spinning. He could’t breathe. His hands shook as he undid his tie. He unbuttoned his collar, unravelled all the work that had gone into making him look good, reversed all the time that had gone into fixing his hair as he tugged at it, destroyed all the progress he had made. All the time taken for him to trust that this time would be better dissolved in an instant. Everything broke down with him. He was too deep in his own thoughts to hear the door open.
“Uh, Rick? Y-you’ve gotta-“ Morty stopped. “Rick? Wh-what’s going on? Wh-what’s happening?”
“Fuck off.”
“Do you want me to get grandpa Stan? Y-you could talk to him instead or-"
“Shut th-the fuck up, Morty!”
“C'mon, Rick, I-I’m just tryna help.”
“I-I don’t need your help!”
The room was spinning. He was unaware of anything besides his spiralling thoughts, the waves of panic, dread, fear crashing down upon him.
What if I just leave? Would it be better if I left?
No, I can’t do that to Stan.
But is leaving any worse than staying and causing pain?
His world had closed in around him, leaving him alone with himself, as if he were isolated, remote, forgotten. He was the only one in a narrow spotlight on an empty stage. He was detached.
Except, he wasn’t. He wasn’t alone, he wasn’t isolated, and he was most definitely not forgotten. Stan knelt down, gently pulling Rick into his chest.
“It’s ok,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. You’re not alone. It’s ok.”
Rick let himself be held. He copied Stan’s breathing. He listened to the other man whispering comforting words. Yeah. He’d be ok.
“We shoulda got hitched in Space Vegas before we got Mabel too invested in a big wedding,” Stan joked. Rick huffed out a laugh, a tiny smile splaying across his lips.
“Nah, if w-we did that she’d never forgive us.”
“Heh, true.” Stan played with Rick’s hair. The thinner man smiled, content. Leaving Stan seemed ridiculous now that he had a clear mind. “Do you still want to do this?”
Rick hesitated for a moment. “As long as you still do.” Stan smiled.
“Maybe we’ll fix your suit first.”
Rick snorted. “You’d love it if I went out there shirtless.”
“That’s true, but Ford wouldn’t appreciate you exposing the kids to that.”
Rick rolled his eyes. “Fine. Help me with my tie and let’s go tie the knot.”
He tried to hide the smile that came with the thought of marrying Stan. The other man smiled with him.