Louis: Louis tilts the bottle back, emptying the rest of it in one swig and asks for another one. The bar tender does so warily. Louis ignores the looks he gets and immediately chugs down half the bottle. The flimsy material of the unanswered wedding invitation feels heavy in his pocket. He thinks about what happened when he first got it in the mail. The pain throbbing in his chest and head, all leading up to now and the multiple ounces of liquor he’s consumed since receiving it.
"One more," he mumbles after finishing yet another bottle. The bar tender shakes his head.
"You look like you’re going to be sick. Go home," he grumbles. Louis has came to this pub every night for the past week, or was it two? No, no he was at the pub on Denning Street last Monday. Or was that Turner’s? Louis groans, coming to a conclusion that he didn’t know where he’s been for the past months since he got the invitation.
He shuffles his in his pockets for his phone, his fingers burning at the touch of the white parchment that’s been resting there. He grabs his phone, dialing for one of the boys to come and get him. Ten minutes later Harry strolls in the pub, making a bee-line to the bar where Louis is slumped over. Louis hears him sigh as he slings one of his arms around his back and helps him off the stool.
"Thanks," Louis mutters once they’re in Harry’s car. Harry doesn’t say anything and starts up the car. Louis takes out the wedding invitation from his pocket, flipping it open. He’s memorized the whole thing already, none of it meaning anything to him in his drunken state.
"You know it’s not too late to tell her," Harry says, not taking his eyes off the road. Louis shakes his head. “Damn it Lou! Instead of drinking away all that time, maybe you should’ve called her and told her how you truly felt!"
They stay silent for a while. Louis could feel his eyes begin to shut as slumber takes over him.
"I know."
Harry: "Well, do you really like it?" you ask, twirling around in the white gown. Your mom and sister overly compliment you on it, persuading you to buy it. “Harry?"
"It’s nice," he says slowly. “But I don’t think it brings out your best." Your mom snorts and whispers something to your sister about why you brought Harry along to find your wedding dress.
"If you two aren’t going to be nice, then can you help find bridesmaid dresses?" you ask, wanting desperately for them to leave. Their faces brighten at the mention of more dresses and scurry off to another part of the store. Harry chuckles as he keeps looking through the large book of wedding dresses you can choose from. “I’m sorry that they’re being rude to you. We broke up two years ago and even though it was a mutual decision they’re still cold. It’s not weird that we can be friends." You walk back in the dressing room, not seeing Harry shrug.
"It’s fine."
"I’m sorry I made you come. You’re probably not having a fun time getting insulted and watching me put on dress after dress."
"It’s fine," he repeats.
"You’ve always given me an honest answer, and I trust your opinion," you continue. Harry smiles to himself and the dressing room opens again. He looks up and his jaw falls. You giggle. “I’m guessing you like it?"
Harry stands up and takes your hand to twirl you around.
"You look breathtaking," he gasps making you blush.
"Really? You think so?" you ask. He nods. Your mom and sister come back holding bridesmaids dresses in their arms. At the sight of you they come rushing over, throwing even more compliments and Harry gets shoved to the side.
