The invitation arrives on Louis’ desk one Monday morning, innocuously placed on top of some tax forms and a bunch of papers Louis needs to look over. It’s quite large, made of thick, fancy, scented paper, with a little red bow wrapped around it, and the instant Louis spots it, he knows exactly what it is.
So he does the logical thing to do. He drops a stack of papers on top of it and promptly ignores its existence.
—
Of course, like all logical plans, this one fails, simply because of Louis’ failure to consider external things. Or in this case, the presence of one, rather annoying best-mate-slash-office-mate.
“Did you see it?” Liam demands as he enters the room at lunch, no pretenses whatsoever. “I made sure to personally leave it on your table.”
“Why hello, Liam,” Louis replies, all faux-brightness and cheer. “It’s so nice to see you on this wonderful day. How are you? I, myself, am doing well—I had a really good sleep last night, and look,” he says, gesturing to the succulent on his table. “Katniss bloomed a flower.”
Liam stops. “I thought its name was ‘Protractus’.”
“Well, I decided that ‘it’ was a ‘she’, and that she was a strong independent woman who didn’t need no man.” Louis declares, touching the flower lightly. “Or a Peeta, for that matter.”
Liam looks confused. “Whatever,” he says. “But did you see it?”
“You mean did I see your handsome face today? Yes, I did, thank you for stopping by.”
“No,” Liam says, crossing his arms. “Although…thanks. But no, I was talking about the invitation.”
Louis plays dumb. “What invitation? Wait, are you finally going to stop wearing that weird chain? Are you inviting me to your place for a ‘Farewell, Liam Payne’s Chain’ party?”
Liam rolls his eyes. “Stop changing the subject.” He marches over to Louis’ desk, and starts ruffling through the papers on there. “I know I put it here somewhere.”
“Oi, Payno,” Louis snaps, trying to shove Liam away. “That is my work you’re disturbing, and as you know I take my work very seriously—”
“—Aha!” Liam says, pulling out the invitation from under Louis’ work forms. “Here it is! You put all your stupid shit on top of it!”
“I did not,” Louis snipes, gathering up all his paper. “I thought it was a tax form.”
“What an incredibly fancy tax form,” Liam deadpans. It’s actually quite a good deadpan; Louis would be proud if it was in any other situation. “Here.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’? Open it, Louis.”
“I said, no.” The words come out much more emotionally than Louis intended them to, and he clamps his mouth shut, shakes his head. “I mean, I don’t need to, Liam, I already know what’s in it. Wedding invitations all say the same thing.”
“Yeah, but this isn’t just any wedding invitation,” Liam says. “This is Zayn’s.”
“All the more reason not to open it, don’t you think?”
“Louis,” Liam says, his voice taking on a gentle tone. “You promised you wouldn’t be bitter about this. You promised you would go.”
And yeah, Louis did. But that was a promise he made at a shitty time in his life, under shitty circumstances. He was sad. And sad people make stupid promises, especially to people they’re in love with.
“Open it,” Liam urges, handing the envelope to Louis. Louis takes a moment to look at the calligraphy of Mr. L. Tomlinson at the back, takes in the thick, fancy, iridescent envelope and the big red ribbon around it.
He hates it immediately.
Still, he opens it, simply because Liam is still there and watching him. The stupid ribbon falls off easily, and the inside is exactly as he expected.
We are cordially inviting you to the wedding of Jelena Noura Hadid and Zayn Javaad Malik on Sunday, March twenty-fifth, ten o’clock in the morning.
And on the right, a little post-it note stuck on the stupid, scented paper.
See you there, best man! – Zayn
The thing is, distantly, he knew that. He knew that Zayn’s getting married, knew that he was going to be Zayn’s best man. But seeing it on paper just made it more real, more permanent. It’s too much, all at once. Louis wants to burn the invitation and crawl into a hole and never come out.
Still, he forces himself to stay calm, to tear his eyes away from the invitation, enough to smile at Liam. “There,” he says, and even he can hear the sudden shakiness in his voice. “I opened it. Happy, now?”
Liam, however, isn’t looking at him. “No,” he says his eyes stuck on the post-it note. “Fuck, I told him not to push through with you being his best man. It’s not fair to you.”
“It’s fine, Liam,” Louis says, even though it is really, decidedly not. “I mean, I did promise.”
“But it’s not fair to you,” Liam repeats, growing heated. “Fuck, I’m going to call him right now and tell him—”
“No, Liam, it’s fine,” Louis insists. “Really. I promised I’d be his best man, and I am. Or at least, I will be.”
Liam pins him with a look. “Even with all the shit?”
Louis blows out a breath. No, he wants to say, but it’s been three years, and he’s moved on by now. Or at least, he should have moved on by now. “Well I promised I’d do it, and I will. How I feel doesn’t matter here.”
“But it should matter,” Liam says. “Fuck, just last week, you got piss drunk and were still crying about—”
“I know, Liam, I know,” Louis interrupts. “But it is what it is. I mean, you were the one going on and on about how I promised I’d go to the wedding.”
“As a guest,” Liam emphasizes. “I didn’t know he would really go and make you his best man.”
“Well, he did.” Louis shrugs. “It’s not his fault, though. I really did promise.”
“You know you don’t have to keep promises like that if it’s detrimental to your well-being, right?”
“I’m aware, Liam.” Louis deadpans. “But I’m also aware that I promised, and, well. I don’t want to break Zayn’s trust in me.”
It’s stupid—stupid and shitty and ridiculous of him, but. He thinks he’s just cursed to be this way, forever weak for a boy who is now getting married to someone else, that he can’t even break a stupid promise he’s made while drunk and crying.
And Louis knows that Liam knows this all this; Liam was there for the entire thing, for the downfall and the crying and the desperation and the begging and the final, quiet acceptance. He’s been there since the beginning and he’s still here now, even though it’s been three years and any normal, sane person would’ve moved on. But Liam, annoying as he is most of the time, is also incredibly perceptive, and right now he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t put into words what he’s thinking.
“You know if you let yourself, you’ll find someone else eventually,” he just says.
“I don’t need anyone,” Louis insists stubbornly. He strokes the Katniss’ flower with a finger. “I’m a strong, independent person and I don’t need to find anyone else.”
—
See, here’s a few things people should know about Louis and Zayn’s relationship:
One, Louis has known (well, known of) Zayn since the beginning of sixth form, when he was going about playing football and trying to get a good education. He’d always been intrigued by the dark-haired, middle-eastern boy who liked to lean against the old brick walls of their school and smoke cigarettes, while still being able to get good grades in all of his classes. The two of them had first exchanged words in their final year of sixth form, immediately hitting it off—so much so that when they found out they’d be going to the same uni, Zayn had automatically asked if Louis wanted to be his roommate.
Two, Louis and Zayn dated for two years. It had started off as an accident—a kiss when they had both been drunk and high, during a party in their last year of uni. They hadn’t spoke of it after, but it just kept happening again and again, that one day, in their shared flat, Zayn had said, “fuck it”, and turned to ask Louis if he wanted to go out on a date. Louis, not knowing what possessed him, had said “yes”, and, well. The rest was history.
And three, Louis is still pathetically, hopelessly, irrevocably in love with Zayn. Even though it’s been three years since their break up. Even though they remained friends, best mates even. Even though one night, when he was smashed, Zayn pulled him aside, eyes sparkling, and said “Fuck, Lou, she’s perfect. I think I’m going to ask her to marry me. Will you be my best man?”
And Louis, who had been just as smashed as Zayn was, and was willing to do anything Zayn asked him, teared up and said, “Yeah, of course!”
Which is why he’s here now, stuck in this predicament.
Louis is aware, of course, that all this makes him sound like a Twilight novel, but it’s just. It’s been three years, that’s all. Three years and not once does Louis think that he’s moved on, not once has he met someone who made him feel how Zayn did. Who made his heart race with excitement, with euphoria. Who made him feel high without drugs, like he was walking around on a cloud. Who made Louis feel everything—all the highs and the lows—with startling, vivid clarity.
Which means that there must be some merit to his feelings, considering that it’s been three years and they’ve just consistently been…there. Unchanging. Unwavering.
And whereas before he could ignore them, pretend they weren’t there, he can’t now because Zayn’s getting fucking married. He’s getting hitched. He’s entering into a lifelong commitment with another person, one that’s going to kill all of Louis’ hopes with Zayn and probably his last, only shot at love.
So there really is no choice. Louis has to stop the wedding, confess to Zayn, and ultimately win Zayn back.
—
Of course, sometime during the next day, it occurs to Louis that in order to get his plan to work, he’s going to need some back-up. Someone who’ll support him throughout this crazy, hare-brained plan. Someone who’ll have his back. Someone who’ll be there for him at the end, just in case things don’t work out as planned.
And it can’t be Liam, because Liam being the stickler that he is, will probably not allow Louis to try and stop the wedding. He’ll just end up telling Louis that he’s sorry and that he should move on and other weird shit like if you love him, let him go, which he probably got from those hipster Tumblr photos. And it can’t be Niall either, because no matter how easygoing he is, the whole debacle of Louis and Zayn is a sensitive issue for him, and he’ll probably go running to Liam about it the instant Louis tells him about his plan. No, for this, Liam and Niall are definitely out.
The problem, though, is that aside from them, Louis hasn’t really got anyone else. Sure, he’s got work friends, but Liam will immediately be suspicious if Louis takes one of them to the wedding, as he’s been trying to set him up with the people in the company to no avail. He could take his sister, but Lottie would probably just judge him for his pathetic-ness, and he doesn’t want her thinking that he’s pathetic. He could ask a random stranger on the street, but he might be slapped or punched for that.
Unless.
He’s reaching for his phone before he even realizes it, opening the contacts app and scrolling all the way down. It takes a second for him to spot the name he’s looking for, and although they’ve kept in touch these past few years—texting almost every day and engaging in random conversation—it’s really kind of a crazy idea. Louis has no idea if he’s busy at work, or if they’re at that level of friendship, or if he’s even willing to fly all the way to London.
But he’s all Louis’ got, and, well. It can’t hurt to try, can it?
The phone rings once, twice, thrice, before someone picks it up. “Hello?” A deep, raspy, familiar voice says, on the other end of the line, and Louis steels himself, takes a deep breath.
“Harry?” He says. “Hi, um. I was wondering if you’d do me a favour.”