I wrote these little things over a month ago, and immediately forgot about them until today. So...yeah.
Luke’s wedding day would involve:
Expect this to be quite traditional. We’re talking white gown, him in a tux, and more than likely at a beautiful picturesque church. His whole family will be there, and Petunia absolutely will be the ring bearer. Luke will probably be a cute nervous wreck, hurrying around before you arrive to make sure everything is perfect. The other guys will probably have to just stop him, tell him to sit somewhere, and double check everything themselves because they don’t want his brain to fry before the I Do’s even happen. Bless him, he just wants everything perfect for you.
Michael’s wedding day would involve:
Expect something a bit more niche with him. Michael will definitely have some kind of theme going, so be prepared to wear something other than a traditional wedding gown. You should also expect it to be someplace of meaning to you both; maybe the place where he proposed, or where you first met. Expect the pups to be included in some way. Similar to Luke, Michael will probably be a bit anxious about everything being ready. He will probably sit down and play on his phone for a bit to calm himself, then go back to making sure all is well and ready.
Ashton’s wedding day would involve:
The return of the lemon tree. Just kidding. Maybe. Anyway, get ready for some bold standouts in your wedding to Ashton. Expect some color (I’m thinking red) to make its way into the theme. Also expect a bit more of an informal, causal party-like atmosphere. This is a celebration, dammit, and it will be treated as such. Rather than a traditional ceremony followed by a reception, this will probably combine the two; exchanging of vows followed immediately by a toast, the start of the buffet, and a general almost meet-and-greet of the two of you so that you’re not spending hours lapping the venue trying to say hi to everyone.
Calum’s wedding day would involve:
Duke. That is all.
Okay, seriously, though…family is going to be very important. His family and your family will have to be there (or at least his, for sure). This will probably be an informal but meaningful ceremony, possibly somewhere in nature (or, at the extreme other end, the courthouse). Of course, you know Duke is ring bearer. Possibly flower dog as well…hell, he may be the best man…just go with it. You know the pictures will be adorable. Calum will be causally on top of things, and he won’t care what you’re dressed in…you just have to say “I Do.”
Summary: You may or may not be over Ashton when he knocks on your door a year after your break up. Things get messy, people disappoint and hearts break. (I suck at summaries pls forgive me and read it anyway)
A/N: I recently rediscovered the most of this one shot and found out that it was actually pretty good (and reaaallyyy long compared to other stuff I’ve written) so I wrote an ending and it got to almost 8000 words. It was supposed to be really angsty (it’s still pretty angsty though), but then it took a turn. Please leave feedback, it would mean so much to me since I’ve spent a seriously long time writing this.
TW: probably swear words and um, yeah I don’t think anything else? Weddings? Heart break?
Masterlist
He’d told you the first time you met him that he was damaged goods. Unfixable. Broken. He had used hundreds of adjectives, but you still hadn’t believed him. He said that he knew he’d fall for you if you let it happen. And that he would break your heart in the end. You had proclaimed that a broken heart was inevitable, that all relationships either got destroyed by choice, by life or by death. You had been so naïve. And he had been so tired. Tired of running away from everything, from not letting himself get connected to anyone. And so, you collided.
You still remember how he looked that day, curly hair all over the place, the band t-shirt stained with both red wine and coffee, clear dark circles under his auburn orbs and a look in those eyes that you hadn’t ever seen before.
You had just turned 19, feeling so grown-up and responsible. And for the first time in your life, you had gone to a bar. You didn’t know what you’d expected, but certainly not meeting a famous musician sitting there looking so miserable. There was just something about him, something wild, something crazy, something exciting. And you were craving those things desperately after living in the same city all your life with the same people and nothing exciting ever happening.
You feel the memory wash over you, and it’s so strong you can almost smell his scent of sweat, alcohol and a little remainder of cologne.
“Hi,” you greeted, shooting him your most charming smile. He looked up from his drink, checking you out in a way that was anything but subtle. “May I sit?” He nodded, and you sat down on the bar chair beside him. “Not the talkative type, huh?”
“You sure are noisy, miss,” he said, voice raspy and with an accent you knew were Australian. You weren’t a fan of his band in any way, but you knew who he was and could probably recall a few of his song lyrics if you really tried.
“I’ve heard that one before. I thought you’d be more creative, to be honest.” His eyes locked with yours, a suddenly amused look in them. But the wildness, the hurt, was still evident in them. It was like he had a secret, and he told everyone that he had this secret, but he wouldn’t tell what it really was about. And it had already peeked your curiosity.
“You shouldn’t assume things about people, miss. You’ll only end up getting disappointed.”
That was how it started. A broken man and a young girl, looking for adventure. But it had evolved from there, slowly turning into a beautiful relationship full of love and secureness and taking care of each other. You had saved him, he had helped you grow and then, after everything, he had left you.
You don’t know why he’s here now. Why he’s standing outside your flat a year after your break up, knocking on your door.
You discretely take in his appearance and notice the short hair and the black button-up, both things he’d never wear when the two of you were together.
“Hi, Y/N.”
“What are you doing here, Ashton?” you ask, making sure your voice is unfriendly and unwelcoming in hopes that he’ll turn around on his heel and go back to where he came from.
“Can I come in?” he begs and ignores how clear it is that you don’t want him inside your home. But just as you are about to refuse, at lightning breaks through the sky, and you know you can’t just leave him to himself when the weather’s like this. It could be dangerous. And oh, how typical it is that even though the sun has been shining all day, right when he knocks on your door, the weather gets bad. So, you simply nod, gritting your teeth in annoyance.
He takes his shoes off outside the door, careful not to let the wet soles soak your floor. He was like that too when you were together, always polite and thoughtful.
He enters the apartment, hovering over you and making all your furniture and even the TV seem much smaller than it really is. You always loved his height, but now you wish he was tiny so he wouldn’t seem so intimidating.
He raises an eyebrow at the couch, silently asking for your permission to sit down. You give him a small nod for confirmation while making sure your face is still like cut in stone, showing no emotion. He can’t know how much all this, him being here, affects you.
He sits down in the comfy, brown couch that you bought with your mother in an IKEA not long ago. It’s weird, him sitting here in the middle of your new life, bringing pieces of the old one back. Pieces you wish had stayed behind.
“Now tell me, Ashton, why are you here?” you demand, arms crossed across your chest to come off as even less approachable. He doesn’t seem to let it get to him, but then again, it’s probably what he had been expecting anyways. The two of you didn’t exactly end on good terms, after all.
He looks at you, eyes the same beautiful shade as always. You’ve missed those eyes and the way it felt like they saw right through you.
“I needed to talk to you,” he answers, still not revealing the reason behind his rather surprisingly visit. “Please sit down, this feels too formal, too much like we’re strangers.”
“We are strangers, Ashton,” you say, but you sit down anyway. You should just get this over with because then you can return to your everyday-life and forget this encounter ever happened.
The couch isn’t exactly the size of America and you’re forced to sit pretty close to him, your thighs almost touching. You feel your palms getting sweaty and try to dry them off on your jeans, but the sweat just keeps coming and you give up.
“No, we’re not, Y/N,” he argues and pauses for a short moment. You’re about to say something, but then he continues: “A stranger wouldn’t know that you don’t take sugar and milk in your tea because you’re too lazy. A stranger wouldn’t know that you freak out every time a new Sims pack comes out. A stranger wouldn’t know how cranky you get if you don’t get at least eight hours of sleep. A stranger wouldn’t know that you’ve always secretly wanted to be a mermaid. A stranger wouldn’t know that you talk to your mother on the phone at least four times a week and a stranger would certainly not know how it feels to kiss you in the morning with your hair all messy and one of my old tees on, the sunlight making your eyes look magical.”
You don’t know what to say, but you feel the anger inside you grow bigger and bigger until you must release some of it. “I don’t drink tea anymore and Sims isn’t installed on my new computer. I’ve given my niece my whole collection of movies about mermaids and burned the shirts you left. You may have known me once, but you certainly don’t anymore.” You stand up from the couch, not wanting to be close to him anymore. Who does he think he is? He broke your heart, stayed out of your life for a whole year and then comes back now, acting like there’s no bad blood between you. “I only let you in because of the bad weather outside but I am not taking shit from you. You can sleep on the couch and then I expect you to be gone by the time I wake up tomorrow.” You turn on your heel, ready to just lay in your bed and start reading your favourite book for the twentieth time, but Ashton has other plans.
He gently grabs your wrist, holding you back. “Please, Y/N. I just wanna talk,” he begs with pleading eyes, but you don’t care. You don’t owe him anything. So you get out of his grip, continuing to walk away when he says: “I’m getting married.”
You don’t why it stings so much, but your heart hurts like you’ve taken a knife to the chest.
You turn around again, meeting his auburn eyes with your own. “Why are you telling me this?” Your voice is barely a whisper, but he’s standing so close to you that he will hear it either way.
“I’m getting married, and I need you to be there.” You don’t understand anything. He can’t be serious. This is not how it’s supposed to be. Your ex isn’t supposed to show up only one year after your break-up, telling you he’s getting married and that he wants you the be there. It’s not right. That doesn’t even happen in movies. “I need you to be there, Y/N, because I don’t think I can do it if you’re not,” he continues. “The thing is, there’s still a big part of my heart that belongs to you. And I can’t give her half a heart. That wouldn’t be fair. I need you to be there, giving me the permission to let you go. Besides, you’re the only person I truly want to be there when I make the greatest promise of all.”
“I don’t owe you anything,” you answer, trying to act unbothered and unhurt, but your voice cracks and it sounds more like you’re trying to convince yourself than him. “I don’t owe you anything, and I don’t want to go.” He doesn’t say anything, just stands across you and looks at you like he’s searching for something. Then you wait a few moments to gather the courage to asking the question you’ve been dying to ask him ever since the end of your relationship: “Why did you just leave? I loved you so fucking much, and you just left me with nothing.” Your words seem to surprise him, his expression stiffened and eyes drifting away, probably back to some old memories. You know, because you can’t even keep count of how many times that has happened to you. Where something has brought you back to some memories you’ve done your best to delete from your mind. But even though they rarely pop up nowadays, you know they’re still there, in the back of your mind.
“I- I,” he starts, not finishing his sentence. He looks at you intensely like he’s trying to telepathically tell you something. Unfortunately, it’s not working. “I just couldn’t stay. Perhaps you knew me too well, Y/N. I needed someone to not know the broken Ashton, the one with all the scars and bruises and issues. And I needed you to have someone way better than me, someone more deserving of your love. And I know it sounds too cliché, but that was how it was. How it is.”
“Don’t you understand, Ashton? I’ve never wanted anyone but you. You’re not the only one who’s broken, but you’re the only one I’d ever allow to break me like you’ve broken me.”
You walk closer to him, and with each step the distance becomes more unbearable. And then finally, your lips connect again. His breath is hot against your lips, and your tongues work together perfectly. When you break apart, your foreheads still pressing against each other, you whisper: “Stay.” He kisses you again, this time with a hunger that sets your skin on fire. He pulls away and starts kissing your neck, surely leaving marks. Suddenly, you are pressed against the wall, your legs tangled around his waist and your breath quicker than normally.
“Bedroom?” he asks, voice thick with desire. You nod, and he carries you as if you weigh no more than a feather before laying you down on your bed.
You wake up, feeling happier than you have in a long time. The birds are chipping outside, and sun beams lights up patches of the floor. Then you realize that Ashton isn’t beside you, and you worry that he has left, but then the smell of freshly made coffee fills your nostrils. You find a pair of panties on the floor and an old tee in your drawer and then heads towards the kitchen.
He’s standing with his back turned against you, holding a mug of coffee. You walk over to him, throwing your arms around him just like you used to do. His body stiffens, and you let go.
“Good morning, Ashton,” you greet, voice raspy and sore. Perhaps you’d been a bit too vocal last night.
“Good morning,” he answers, turning around so you’re face to face. “I hope it’s alright I made a pot of coffee.”
“Of course it is,” you assure him. “I thought for a minute that you’d just left.” You smile, leaning in to kiss him, but he pulls back. He’s leaning against the counter so there’s not enough space to properly step back, but you get the message. “What’s wrong, Ash?” Your voice sounds more hurt than you had intended, but there’s no denying his rejection upsets you.
“I was wrong to come here,” he says, each word penetrating your heart. “I have a fiancé waiting for me at home and I solely came here to gain closure. This was a mistake.” He tries to look you in the eye, but when he sees how full of hurt, anger and sadness they are, he looks away.
“It surely wasn’t her name you moaned last night. Actually, she didn’t seem to cross your mind at all. So how can you say that this was wrong when we both know you and I are supposed to be together?” He shakes his head and bites his lower lip like he doesn’t want to answer. And when he does, you understand why. And you wish that he just hadn’t said anything at all.
“It’s our faith to be star-crossed lovers, Y/N.“ He looks at you, the tears in his eyes telling you he’s not as indifferent as you thought. “In another life, I will make you mine,” he adds, and then he sends you one last pained glance before walking out the door and leaving you to pick of the pieces of your broken heart alone for the second time.
You sink down on the floor, tears clouding your sight and your heart feeling heavier than ever. And you hate yourself for being so stupid. For letting him break your heart again, just when you thought you had moved on. But still, you can’t get yourself to hate him. You wish you could, really, but because you know that he loves you, because you know that he’s hurting too, you can’t. So you settle on hating the universe for making it impossible to stop loving him and for not letting you be together with the man you love. And you curse every god you know for making it this way. But still, there’s a small part of you that isn’t sad. That part is happy and grateful instead. Not all people get to experience a love like the one between you and Ashton. And deep down, you know that that part will win some day. But for now, you let yourself mourn the future you’ll never get.
He is standing at the altar, a well-cut tux adorning his muscular body and a calm expression on his face. He looks confident; proud, even. Your eyes find him as soon as you enter the almost full church, but he doesn’t see you. You’ve purposely dressed in a way that will keep you out of the spotlight. He’s the only one who needs to know you’re here.
However,+ your plan doesn’t work as perfectly as you had predicted. John sees you and is about to stand up, but then he looks you up and down and shuts his mouth. Somehow, he seems to have understood that you don’t want to be seen. Instead of calling you out, he stands up and walks over to you.
“Didn’t expect to see you here, to be honest.” He smiles warmly at you, and you get a small feeling of coming home. John has always been like a second dad to the band members, and while you were dating Ashton, he filled that role for you, too. “But I’m glad. You’ve have been greatly missed.”
“I’ve missed you too, John. Where’s Milla?” You ask, not seeing his adorable daughter anywhere.
“She’s sick and Amy’s home taking care of her so it’s just me today,” he explains, gesturing with his hand towards the church pew he came from. “Do you wanna sit with me or do have anywhere else you want to be?”
“I guess I’ll survive sitting with you, John. Just this one time,” you tease and wink at him afterwards, which only makes him laugh. The pew is thankfully located towards the back of the church which means that you won’t be feeling like you’re trying to steal any attention or play a bigger part in this wedding than you’re meant to.
Just as you’ve sat down, the famous tones of Bridal Chorus play and mark the entrance of the beautiful bride. And she truly is beautiful. A short pixie cut frames her perfectly-shaped face, the dark brown strands of hair matching her chocolate coloured skin and her body cut like one of a goddess.
“Who is she?” you whisper to John while feeling jealousy creep upon you.
“Anabelle. They met a festival, I think.” Even her name is beautiful. And it fits with his. Ashton and Anabelle. Sounds like something from a fairy tale. You try to shake the envy of you, but it’s hard. You always thought that you would be one saying “I do” at Ashton’s side, but things rarely work out as you want them to. You’ve learned that the hard way.
He seems happy. His smile is genuine, although not the biggest possible, when she stands beside him, and you’re glad that he’s happy. Especially because she looks so sweet. You would have hated if she had looked like a bitch.
You spend the ceremony trying not to cry, admiring the church and convincing yourself that it’s a bad idea to storm out of the door so you don’t have to watch the love of your life vowing to love another for the rest of his life.
But then the pastor says the famous words: “If any of you has a reason why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace,” and you remember all the movies where people try to get their significant other to stop marrying someone else. And you are so close to standing up and beg him to marry you instead. But you can’t do that to him. Or to all these other kind people gathered at the church. Or to the woman standing beside Ashton. You’re not that selfish. So you settle on holding your peace forever. And you realize in that moment that if you were given the choice, you would gladly take whatever pain Ashton is feeling by letting you go. You would bear everything because he deserves to be happy. And he truly seems to be right now.
So when he, just before he says “I do”, finds your eyes through the crowd, you smile at him through wet eyes and nod. At first, he looks surprised that you’ve showed up, but then his eyes get an almost thankful glow and you know that you’ve done what he needed you to do.
And then, it’s official. Ashton is married. And you’re left with the bitter memories of happier times.
But as you sit quietly in the church, head down, trying to blend in with your surroundings, a familiar voice says your name.
“Y/N? Is it you?” You look up and gaze directly into Lauren’s baby blue eyes.
“Hi Lauren,” you greet and smile at her. You became some sort of big sister to her during the time you dated her older brother, and although you also have quite a soft spot for the youngest of Ashton’s siblings, Harry, you’ve missed Lauren more than you thought you would.
She hugs you, a big grin lighting up her gorgeous features. “Please say that you’re coming to the reception, too! It’s been way too long, I’ve missed you,” she asks and then adds: “We all have.”
“I’m sorry, but I think I’m just gonna head home now. I only came here to say a proper goodbye, but I’m afraid I’ll outstay my welcome if I come with you. Message me if you wanna hang out some time, I’d love that.” You prepare to bid your goodbyes to her, but she doesn’t let you go that easily.
“No, Y/N, you have to come. I know that the boys will be disappointed if you leave before talking to them as well. Besides, we have a lot to catch up on.” She’s just as persuasive and charming as her brother, and you end up promising to go to the party too.
“Now go and celebrate your brother, I’ll drive there with John,” you promise, and she disappears out the church.
John places his hand on your shoulder, giving you a comforting squeeze. “You can do this, Y/N. Besides, she is right. We’ve all missed you, and we are your friends too, although you’ve distanced yourself quite a bit.” You look at him and gives him a thankful nod. That old man always knows what to say.
You sit alone at a small round table, John gone off to take a phone call from his wife. You don't really mind, though, it's actually nice to get some time to yourself to really take everything in. You look at Anabelle, her dress big and overflowing with tulle. Although she is beautiful, and the wedding is beautiful, it confuses you a little. It’s nothing like what you thought Ashton wanted and he never was the type to just sit around and let his girlfriend decide everything.
“I didn’t expect to see you here, to be honest.”
You turn around to see who the voice belongs although you already know. You’d recognize it anywhere.
“I didn’t either. Lauren somehow managed to convince me. Great persuasion skills must run in the family.” Ashton sits down at the chair beside you. He’s sitting so close that you can smell the scent of the cologne you bought him for his 25th birthday. You’re surprised he still uses it, it’s a remain of your relationship that you thought he had thrown out by now.
“Did she use the puppy eyes? I never mange to resist them.” Although your tones and words are light, the tension is thick between you like a balloon waiting get scratched by a needle so it finally can release the air inside.
“She did. I stood no chance.” You both laugh, but then the silence is awkward and brutal. There’s so many things to say and at the same time nothing at all. It certainly doesn’t make it easier that he only a few weeks ago spent the night in your bed. And now you’ve watched him starting a life with someone else.
“Do you remember how we used to talk about how our wedding was gonna be? That we were gonna get married by the beach and I was gonna have messy tangled hair and a loose flowy dress on and we would get tattoo rings instead of real ones because you feared losing yours in the drain?” you burst out. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, just forget it.” You pretend to look at the clock on your phone and then begin to stand up. “Actually, I should probably get going, I promised Jesica I’d-“
“I dreamt about it last night,” he says, interrupting you. “We were at the beach I showed you in Sydney, the one with the beautiful sunset. And you looked like an angel with bare feet and this simple, knee-length dress and no make-up on. It all seemed so real, I could even smell the seaweed and feel the sand under my feet. And your eyes had that beautiful sparkle, and everything just felt like it fell into place when you stood by my side.” His eyes glistens, tears threatening to spill. But you are conflicted. Because while you experience the same pain he does, you also feel anger boiling.
“Then why didn’t you choose me three weeks ago? You had the chance and you threw it away for some idiotic reason.” You sigh, looking away for a few moments to gain composure. “You know, it would be easier to accept if you married her because you loved her and not me. But that’s not the case, is it?”
He doesn’t directly answer your question, but you understand either way. “I hope you find someone who is there for you, always. I hope he buys you a sapphire ring when you get engaged because you never liked the ordinary ones. I hope he’s the reason that sparkle in your eyes return. I hope he knows how intelligent you are and accepts that you win every argument. I hope he holds you tight in the night when you are feeling lonely and that he’s careful around you because he knows how sensitive you are. I hope he challenges you and I hope he tells you every day how beautiful you are because you always forget. And I hope he makes you happy and I hope he loves every scar and wound and bruise. And I hope he makes you forget about me, so I’m the only one sitting here, always wondering what could have been. If only life had been different.“ But although his words are beautiful, you don’t think they’re anything besides that. They’re beautiful, yes, but also terribly stupid.
You shake your head and then, before you walk away from him, you scold him: “That’s bullshit, and you know it. Us not being together has nothing to with faith. It’s your choice. Singleheartedly. And I pray that I will one day be able to forgive you for it.” And with that you’re gone, only a trace of your perfume in the air proving to Ashton that the conversation truly happened.
You look down at your baby blue stilettos, the colour perfectly complimenting the creamy hue of your dress. It took you weeks to decide which one you wanted but you’re happy with your decision as you look up and admire your reflection in the mirror. Picking your own wedding dress was nothing like what you had expected after watching countless of episodes of ‘Say yes to the dress’. You didn’t immediately know which dress you wanted, and only following hours of swiping through pictures on your phone were you able to decide on this one.
Your process of choosing a wedding dress was a bit like when you “chose” the man you are just an hour from meeting at the altar. It hadn’t been love at first sight, heck you hadn’t even been that attracted to him in the beginning, but he had grew on you, and you had grown as a person. When you were younger, you fell in love, face first and with a feeling of being completely out of control. Falling in love with Thomas had been the very opposite. You had gotten to know him as a friend, kindly denying his advances towards you, but as you realized how great a man he really was, how considerate, honest, sweet, kind-hearted (and head over heels in love with you) he was, you decided that you would try to reciprocate his feelings. You had taken it slow, working with yourself and with him, and he had been so supportive through it all. Then one morning when you hadn’t seen him for a couple of days, you realized you missed him. That you wanted him to be there, that you wanted him to kiss you and embrace you and possibly make love to you.
After that, everything just started to fall into place. Of course, there were bad days and there were screaming and fighting and crying, but you always thought for both the relationship and each other, and when he proposed to you, well, you were happy to agree.
So yeah, you had to admit you could see the similarities between your process of picking a man and picking a dress. But perhaps you were just over-analysing everything, it wouldn’t be the first time.
“Hi sweetie,” your best friend, Jessica, greets as she places her hands on your shoulders and comfortingly squeezes. You smile widely at her in the mirror and lean back against her, resting your head on her collarbone and shoulder.
“Can you believe it, Jess? I’m getting married!” you squeal, and she laughs. Her palms have slid down to your elbows, mindlessly caressing your skin with her thumbs. That’s one of the things you love about her, she always shows these small acts of affection, calming you down when you need it or just letting you know she’s there. She’s a bit like a sister to you, as she’s been by your side for many years now, through thick and thin.
“I know, Y/N, it’s amazing,” she assures. You close your eyes and relax in her embrace, a feeling of comfort and safety washing over you. “I am so terribly proud of you, you know that, right?” She gently shoves you away from her and turns you around so you’re facing her directly, holding you an arms-length from her with her hands once again on your shoulder. She fixes her gaze on you which tells you that she thinks this is important for you to understand. “I’m so proud of you for getting here, for how you got up after everything with Ashton, for how you let yourself fall for someone again after being so hurt. You are stronger than you know, Y/N, incredibly strong. And remember, I’m always here, no matter what.” She shoots you a big smile, but you can’t get yourself to mirror it, feeling your stomach churn.
“Don’t be mad at me, Jess,” you mutter, clutching your hands. Her facial expression changes from a proud, fond one to a nervous one.
“What are you talking about?” she questions and mentions your name when you don’t answer right away.
You take a deep breath, collecting yourself. “I’ve invited him today. Ashton. And I don’t know if he’ll even show up or-“ you admit, before she cuts you off.
“WHAT have you?” She’s nearly yelling now, and you just want her to stop. This is supposed to be an amazing day filled with only happiness and joy, certainly not with fighting and bad feelings. “Why haven’t you told me?”
“I want him to be there, Jess! And you would have tried to talk me out of it,” you explain, trying to get her to understand. As your best friend, she should accept, if not support, your decision, but then again, you get where she’s coming from. If she told you she had invited the person that had hurt her more than anyone else to her wedding, you wouldn’t exactly be over the moon either.
“And you promise this isn’t just some sick form of revenge because he wanted you at his wedding almost two years ago?” She interrogates, seemingly calmer but still with a doubting expression. However, her words hit you and you can’t find the right words to answer her.
“I-I don’t know why, to be honest. It just feels right to have him be there, you know? I love Thomas, I really do, but I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving Ashton, either. And like he needed to have me there for his wedding, allowing him to marry another woman, I think I need him to give me away to Thomas, if that makes any sense.” She walks closer to you and stares intensely, like she’s trying to figure you out.
“If he asked you if you wanted to try again, what would you say?” You should have seen that question coming, but you stupidly didn’t, and now you don’t know what to say. The million-dollar question, indeed.
“I hope he never does. It would only cause everyone more pain than necessary,” you begin and quickly continue when you realize she’s once again about to interrupt, “But if I must be honest, I don’t know, Jess. He’s the reason I am the person I am today, he shaped me, and no one has ever loved me as furiously and deeply and beautifully as he did. But he made his choice two years ago.“ Your eyes are wet but tears still haven’t run down your cheeks. You take a deep breath and try to hold them back, telling yourself that everything’s okay. You don’t want red, puffy eyes on your wedding day.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I shouldn’t have pressured you. I’m just worried,” she apologizes and takes your hand. You squeeze it and nod, understanding where she’s coming from.
“I know, Jess,” you say, as she comfortingly strokes your cheek with the hand that isn’t holding yours. “Will you put on my veil?”
She secures the veil in your hair with a beautiful silver comb you’ve borrowed from Thomas’ mother, and the delicate, sheer fabric falls in front of your face. Jessica’s eyes turn glossy as she steps away, eyeing you up and down. No words are needed between you, she just hugs you one last time before escorting you out.
She walks into the church before you, executing her role as your maid of honour.
“Are you ready, darling?” your father asks with loving eyes. You know that both him and your mother were worried about you after how things spiralled down when Ashton left you, and that they are relieved you’ve finally decided to settle down.
You answer with a nod, staring forward at the door that leads to your future. Your hands are sweating, and you want nothing but just get the ceremony started.
“And you’re completely sure?”
You finally turn your head and fix your eyes on his, surprised by how worried he looks. You were under the impression that your parents loved Thomas almost more than you did which isn’t much to your surprise, really, as he truly is the dream of every pair of parents.
“What do you mean? I thought you liked Thomas?”
“I do, he is everything I ever wished for you find in a man. But I’m not sure if he is anymore, Y/N. You seem content, but you’re not as happy as you sometimes used to be. You don’t have that sparkle in your eyes anymore,” his lips part into a small, apologetic smile, knowing his next word will feel a little like a knife to your chest, “Not since Ashton, you haven’t.”
“Well, I´m not a teenager with big emotions anymore, dad,” you mutter while nervously playing with the hem of your veil, feeling a need to do something to distract yourself from the doubt beginning to appear in your head.
He can’t be right, can he?
No, you love Thomas, and he loves you. Just like Ashton and Anabelle love each other.
“I know you’re not. But you underestimate your younger self, honey. There wasn’t anything melodramatic about her, Ashton just brought those big feelings out from within you, and he did two years ago, too, and you were 25 back then.”
You can hear people inside the church beginning to talk, clearly wondering why you’ve still haven’t begun your walk towards Thomas when it’s been so long since Jessica walked up the aisle.
“Listen, darling, I just want you to make the right choice, whatever that may be. If you truly love Thomas and want to spend the rest of your life with him and would choose him over everyone else, including Ashton, then I am beyond happy to escort you to him right now. But if not, then I think you should tell him. “
“What about the money? You’ve used so much money on this wedding, I don’t want those to go to waste,” you insist, hanging on to your last chance of taking the easy road. Thomas loves you like you hung the moon in the fucking sky, and you know that he’d spend the rest of his life trying to make you as happy as possible if you choose him. But that’s not the question. Instead, you have a few seconds to find out if you really do love him or if you’ve just convinced yourself as a way to get over Ashton.
“’I’ll take care of the money, darling, just do whatever you find best. Both your mother and I want you to be happy, no amount of money compares to that,” he affirms, making your heart flutter with pride of how great a father you have.
“You’re the best. I’ll tell him now.” You grab the wooden door handle but turn your face towards your father first, “Thank you for making sure I was making the right decision. I love you,” you declare. His smile reaches all the way to his eyes, and you once again see the resemblance of your father and yourself. He has that sparkle in his eyes, too.
You carefully remove the silver comb from your perfectly styled hair and take the veil off as well as you walk into the church.
Everyone turns towards you, but as soon as they see the apologetic look on your face and the wedding garments in your hand, their smiles turn into shocked expressions. You fix your gaze on Thomas, feeling tears forming behind your eyes. They slide down your cheeks, some dripping down on your dress and some hitting the floor.
“I’m so sorry, Thomas, I’m so terribly sorry,” you apologize when you’ve walked so close you can talk to him with a low voice and still making it possible for him to hear. “I swear I never planned to hurt you like this, you deserve so much more. But I can’t do this, I’m so sorry.” Low mutters and even gasps sound from the audience, and although you care deeply about many of them, right now, you wish they weren’t here.
It’s too sad and hard as it is without other people having to witness you breaking Thomas’, and perhaps even your own, heart.
“What is it you can’t do? Marriage? Because we don’t have to get married, Y/N, we can just call this off and-“ he tries, and it’s clear to you that he knows it’s over but just doesn’t want to admit to himself just yet.
“I think it would be best if we went somewhere more private, would that be alright?” He nods. “I’ll take care of this, just figure out a spot and text me the details. I’ll be there as fast as possible.” He looks like he wants to say something, but then he just smiles brokenly and walk out the church, looking down at the marble tiles.
It feels like a knife twisting in your chest to see him walk away with hanging shoulders, looking so defeated. You might never have loved you like he loved you, but it would be a lie to say you didn’t care about him. You cared greatly about him, deeply, even. Not enough, though.
You take a deep breath, locking eyes with your father at the back of the choice, and the reassuring smile gives you the strength to explain.
“I’m sorry for wasting everyone’s time, but I can’t do this. Thomas is a fantastic man, but he deserves someone who can return all the love he has in his heart. And that person isn’t me.” You dry your cheek with the back of your hand, stepping closer to Thomas’ family.
With shaking hands, you offer the comb back to his mother, mouthing “I’m sorry,” and you think she nods as a small act of acceptance, but with the tears clouding your sight, you can’t be entirely sure.
“I have something I need to work by myself, but first of all, I need to talk to Thomas. So, if you’d please excuse me,” you exclaim as you walk out of the church. And even though the burden of hurting a man who loves you stings, you feel freer than you have in a very long time when you step out of the cold temperature of the church and out to the fresh spring air outside. You’re gonna work this out.
The smell of newly-dried paint fills your nostrils as you breathe in, admiring your work. You’ve painted your living room in a soft beige colour that gives the room a homely appearance, and you’ve just finished decorating the room with furniture, pictures and green plants. This is your fresh start, your second chance, and you’re determined to make sure that this small apartment will be the place where you will figure out your life.
You smile at the picture of you and Thomas, both of you widely grinning at the camera, sitting on your parents’ couch. It took many tears and tough talks but now, eight months after your wedding day, you and Thomas have managed to rebuild your friendship. He really is an amazing person, and you’re sure it won’t be long until some lucky woman snatches him.
The sound of the doorbell ringing shakes you from your thoughts, and you stand up from the couch. You don’t bother checking who it is before opening, Jess said something about coming over when she got off work and you’re sure her boss just let her go early.
But it’s not Jess who stands outside your door with a hopeful expression and beautiful hazel eyes.
“Ashton? What are you doing here?” you question, your smile decreasing a bit. It’s not that you’re not delighted to see him, but you get a bad kind of déjà vu from the last time he stood outside your door. It certainly didn’t end up pretty, back then.
“It seems we always end up like this, doesn’t it?” he grins, but his gaze is apologetic. “Me standing outside your door and you hesitant to let me in.”
“If you want me to be the godmother of your child, the answer is no,” you answer, only half-joking. You never know with Ashton, if anyone would do something like that, it’s definitely him. “But come on in, I don’t mind.” You take a step back, dragging the door back until it bumps again the wall in your hallway, making room for him to walk in.
He dries his feet on your doormat, like he always does before walking indoors, and then he takes them off and puts them right beside your door, making sure they don’t stain your floor. Thoughtful as ever.
“A truly great idea, Y/N. Unfortunately, I don’t father any children at the moment but perhaps another time,” he jokes sarcastically, and you laugh, relieved that he isn’t actually going to ask you something in that direction. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
You smile, holding up your hands and point around the living room. “You really aren’t, I was just enjoying my interior designing skills.”
He reciprocates your smile with a relieved one of his own, admiring the room. He examines the pictures on your walls and you try to think up something to distract him with, so he doesn’t see them before you realize it doesn’t really matter. It’s your own choice what you want to look at every day, and you don’t even think he’ll mind that you hung up a picture of the two of you.
He walks past the pictures of you and your parents at a zoo and you and Jessica at your bachelor party and stops at the one of you and Thomas, the one you were looking at right before he came. His shoulders seem to sink, and his voice isn’t as lively as before when he speaks, “You look really happy together on this picture. Have you fixed your problems?” When you don’t answer right away, he continues, still looking at the frame instead of you. “I’m sorry, it’s not my place to ask. I just thought- after what happened in the church, I thought the two of you broke up.”
You walk closer to him, seeing him swallowing the lump in his throat. “Thomas and I are just friends, actually. He’s really sweet, but I don’t see him as anything more, and he has accepted that.“
Ashton finally turns his head to look at you, and your stomach drops when you notice the intensity he stares at you with. “I know I shouldn’t say this, but that makes me really happy, Y/N,” he whispers.
You can’t believe you still have a hard time fighting the urge to kiss him, after all these years, but you force your feet to stay put. You may not have any commitments, but he’s still married.
“How is Anabelle?” Your voice is hoarse, but you try your best to sound as powerful and stern as possible. You were “the other woman” once, and you don’t intend to be ever again.
“She’s well, I think. Haven’t spoken her since the divorce, to be honest, but she updates her Instagram regularly with pictures of her and boyfriend,” he states softly, licking his lips and looking down at yours.
You can’t control the surprise in showing on your face, mouth slightly gaping. “Since when?” You look down at your feet, feeling your heart beating fast and hard in your chest.
Stop it, Y/N, you’re behaving like a lovesick teenager
“We weren’t even married for a year, actually. It took some time, but I realized those things you said at my wedding were true.” He steps even closer to you, and you feel his warm breath on your forehead when you force yourself to look up. “I’ve been a complete idiot, I know that. But will you at least consider giving me another chance? I understand if you don’t, I just-“
You don’t let him finish, instead colliding your lips in a long-awaited kiss. He tastes like coffee and mint gum, and you’ve forgot how great a kisser he is. His tongue graces over your teeth, the act sending specks of warmth through your stomach.
As you break apart, gasping for air, none of you can help smiling. “I’ve always loved you, Y/N, and I’m so sorry for how much I’ve hurt you,” he apologizes, stroking your cheek, “But I promise you I’ll make it up to you.”
“I’m sorry as well. We’ve both been way too stubborn.”
You kiss him again, and it feels right, although you still have to adapt to each other again.
“I love you, too, for the record,” you add, and the smile he sends you reminds you of the first sun beams in spring. The ones that remind you that even though the world has seemed like a cold and dead place for a while, everything will be alright.
And while you’re not sure if you believe in one true, big love or soulmates, you believe in second chances and realizing a relationship hasn’t run its course yet and that it isn’t always right to let go of something good just because it’s tough. And most of all, you believe in Ashton.
Yooo @japanmikey it's like 1am here and I'm waaayyyy too tired to wait until two in the morning for blurb night (I hate time zones) so just look at this (even gender neutral) blurb when it's time for you! Imagine yourself very nervous. Not only the usual wedding nervous, but the My-fiance-insisted-on-keeping-his-hair-green-on-our-wedding-day kind of nervous. It was horrible, you were about to melt into the floor from stares from your family, but you promised yourself (and mike) to say strong. You walk down the aisle with Luke on your arm (he insisted on walking with you), you just want this to be over already and to stand at the front with your Michael. Ashton and Calum stood next to their buddy at the front and were waiting in anticipation for you and Luke. Everything was a blur, but luckily you suddenly stand in front of the wedding guy, as you all called him, next to Michael. Luke gave your hand to Michael who took it like it was the most delicate thing in the world. Luke gave me a reassuring nod and I mouthed 'thank you' just before he walked to Calum and Ashton. You remember your family bringing up a huge fight after you announced Michael was your boyfriend, and you remember them bringing up a huge fight after telling them of your wedding plans. They had time to adjust to him, but they still weren't very fond of him. They accept him now, though. The whole ceremony was even more of a blur than the walk and suddenly it's time for the vows. Michael turned to me, squeezing both my hands. I felt his shakiness and heard it in his voice. "You know, I never would've thought I would stand here, in front of two wonderful families, friends, and with the person I love the most in the entire world. Hell I didn't even think someone would ever like me!" That earned a few chuckles from the audience. "I love you to bits and pieces, you heard me when no one else did, saw me when no one else did and helped me when no one else did. I want to thank you every day of my life, by loving you every second, helping you like you did with me and just..." his voice broke. In both his and my eyes tears started to form and I gave his hands a squeeze. "I love you," he said quivering, "and I will show you every day in my life. I promise." By then both of us were crying, but I managed to get my shit together and speak. "Mikey," I started, we both chuckled. "I can't start to describe how much I love you, but I am willing to show you, every day, for the rest of my life. No matter what pain you will be going through, we'll go through it together. You will never be alone and I will make sure you know this every day in our lives." Tears were rolling down my face, but I was the happiest person on earth. Michaels face had a huge grin but sappy eyes on it, exactly how I felt. "I love you." After that the rings came and even though mike struggled to put mine on, it was a wonderful experience, followed by the kiss that would seal my life from now on. Our lives. I had never been happier.
You know how Ashton said that if he wants Luke involved in an instagram or keek, he has to plan it out so that Luke knows what to do? I think that it would be that way with your wedding too, like Luke would be nervous about messing up or something, so he’d have the boys (his Best Men) help him rehearse over and over until he felt confident because he wanted everything to go absolutely perfectly when he married the love of his life.
