Perched atop the rugged bat­tle­ments of the Fol­ly, the best man, John­no, and Will stand side by side, the howl­ing wind car­ry­ing whis­pers of the past between them. Below, the rest­less sea crash­es against the jagged rocks, an unre­lent­ing force that mir­rors the under­cur­rents of ten­sion brew­ing beneath their cama­raderie. From an outsider’s per­spec­tive, they appear as two old friends enjoy­ing a qui­et drink before the wed­ding fes­tiv­i­ties tru­ly begin, but beneath the sur­face, some­thing unspo­ken lingers. John­no, with his char­ac­ter­is­tic brava­do, attempts to fill the silence with laugh­ter, crack­ing jokes and rem­i­nisc­ing about the wild antics of their youth. Yet, despite the easy ban­ter, Will remains guard­ed, his respons­es care­ful­ly mea­sured, his pol­ished exte­ri­or betray­ing none of the unease that flick­ers in his gaze. Their friend­ship, once effort­less and unbreak­able, now feels like a pre­car­i­ous bal­anc­ing act—one mis­step away from reveal­ing the frac­tures beneath, test­ing the very bond between the groom and the best man.

The con­ver­sa­tion takes a turn toward Jules’s half-sis­ter, Olivia, a top­ic that vis­i­bly unset­tles Will. John­no, ever the provo­ca­teur, makes a teas­ing remark about Olivia’s strik­ing beau­ty, but his words elic­it an imme­di­ate and almost defen­sive response from Will. It is sub­tle, but telling—a brief moment where the mask of com­po­sure slips, replaced by some­thing unguard­ed and raw. Will insists that Olivia is off-lim­its, that cer­tain lines must nev­er be crossed, a dec­la­ra­tion that rais­es more ques­tions than it answers. John­no sens­es the weight behind his words, the care­ful restraint in his tone, as if Olivia’s pres­ence at the wed­ding stirs some­thing Will would rather not con­front. The exchange leaves John­no with a lin­ger­ing curiosity—what is it about Olivia that rat­tles Will, and why does he feel the need to shut down the con­ver­sa­tion so quick­ly?

Their uneasy moment is soon inter­rupt­ed by the arrival of Femi, Angus, Dun­can, and Peter, their old school­mates from Trevellyan’s, whose laugh­ter and easy cama­raderie inject a sense of famil­iar­i­ty into the night. Their pres­ence brings a flood of nos­tal­gia, mem­o­ries of late-night escapades, drunk­en dares, and the reck­less aban­don of youth. The school they once attend­ed had shaped them in ways they nev­er ful­ly acknowledged—Trevs, as they called it, had been more than just an insti­tu­tion; it had been a world of unspo­ken rules, hier­ar­chies, and fierce loy­al­ty. Now, as grown men stand­ing on the precipice of adulthood’s full weight, they fall into famil­iar pat­terns, reliv­ing their glo­ry days with the same bois­ter­ous ener­gy. But beneath the rev­el­ry, there’s an unde­ni­able sense of some­thing being held back, some­thing left unsaid.

Their sto­ries turn to old tra­di­tions, par­tic­u­lar­ly the infa­mous “Sur­vival” game—nights spent in the dark­ness of the school’s vast grounds, test­ing their endurance, their wit, and some­times, their cru­el­ty. What had once felt like an ini­ti­a­tion into broth­er­hood now car­ries a dif­fer­ent weight, a recog­ni­tion that not all their antics had been harm­less fun. There’s a moment where their laugh­ter fal­ters, where nos­tal­gia shifts into some­thing heav­ier, as if they are all silent­ly recall­ing events they do not wish to dis­cuss. Will, the gold­en boy of their group, main­tains his care­ful­ly craft­ed image, effort­less­ly maneu­ver­ing the con­ver­sa­tion to safer ground. John­no, watch­ing him close­ly, real­izes how much effort Will exerts in con­trol­ling the nar­ra­tive, ensur­ing that the past remains exact­ly where he wants it—buried beneath charm and well-placed dis­trac­tions.

As the night wears on, the mood oscil­lates between rev­el­ry and reflec­tion, between the com­fort of old friend­ships and the dis­com­fort of what they refuse to acknowl­edge. The pas­sage of time has erod­ed none of their shared his­to­ry, yet it has cre­at­ed unde­ni­able dis­tance, the real­iza­tion that they are no longer the boys they once were. The wed­ding should be a moment of cel­e­bra­tion, yet to John­no, it feels like a reckoning—a moment where the past and present col­lide, forc­ing them to con­front the truths they have spent years avoid­ing. The unspo­ken ten­sion between him and Will, the guard­ed nature of their inter­ac­tions, the hints of some­thing unresolved—Johnno knows that this week­end will bring more than just vows and cham­pagne toasts.

As the oth­ers con­tin­ue drink­ing, John­no takes a qui­et moment to observe Will, not­ing the slight stiff­ness in his pos­ture, the way his gaze flick­ers toward the shad­ows beyond the Fol­ly, as if expect­ing something—or someone—to emerge. It is in that moment that John­no real­izes this wed­ding is not just a cel­e­bra­tion for Will. It is an attempt at con­trol, at eras­ing what­ev­er it is that haunts him. But the past has a way of resur­fac­ing, and John­no sus­pects that before the week­end is over, what­ev­er Will is try­ing to bury will claw its way back into the light.