Sleep hung in my eyes, and my legs were hanging halfway off the bed when I woke up. Feeling completely drained, I stared at the ceiling until it made me dizzy and sick. So I turned my head. My gaze fell directly to the window, in front of which I had half-heartedly drawn the curtain. I believed to see a few single rays of sunlight shining into the room. It shouldn't be like that.

And then everything happened all at once. I rolled over, stumbled around in my bed and fumbled through it for my phone. After several failed attempts, I realised that I had been lying on it all along. Of course I had. I pulled it out from under me, stared at the clock and ... It was six twenty-eight and my alarm clock was set for six thirty. With a deep exhale, I let myself fall back into bed. Every time I set an alarm for anything, I woke up far too early and far too panicked.

"Zayn, get moving and get out! I still need you, remember?" I called over to him a few minutes later as I walked past the couch, tickled his legs and squatted down in front of him. His body startled at first. Then he ran his hands over his eyes and peaked between his fingers at me. "Huh ... good morning to you as well" he stuttered under his breath. I couldn't help but chuckle and bury my face in the edge of the couch. "Your team won 3-2 in overtime yesterday," I said, looking into his eyes again to catch his reaction. He startled again, now fully energized and full of verve. He sat up, his eyes widened. "They did? Are you sure, you aren't just messing with me right now?" - "Well, now that I think about it, it actually was 2-2 going into the penalty shoot-out and then it was over for them. But look at you, now all awake and alert. It suits you, by the way." I winked at Zayn, just for him to give me a friendly shove.

He asked me what he could do for me and I jabbered to him a checklist consisting of two bullet points: make sure the bouquet keeps surviving and spot-check my suit for occasion suitability. "A black pinstripe suit and a white button- up shirt", he held the coat hook up in front of me and let the fabrics hang down in front of me, 'don't think you'll trigger any granny gossip with this one. I really like it. Simple but effective. A very Harry outfit.'' The corners of my mouth twitched upwards briefly. Realizing I was blushing, I raised my index finger at Zayn. He looked down at it sceptically. "I'll just go grab a shower, brush my teeth and stuff real quick, will you just stay here and... I don't know, can you check if it's ... actually tidy? I used up my washing card and uhm, well, I hadn't collected enough laundry to recharge it." And before Zayn could even say a word, I said see you later and let the bathroom door fall shut behind me.

My morning routine was fairly simple: first, turn on the shower and wait until the water is reasonably warm. As this doesn't happen all too quickly, brush the teeth in the meantime, and once that's done, add a mouthwash on top. And a magnesium pill. I had absolutely no idea what magnesium actually did, but Zayn always preached that it made his body feel good, so at some point I had started taking it as well.

On my magnesium high, I diligently started to shampoo my hair under the shower. I smeared the shampoo all the way down to my scalp and then spread the spare foam over the tips of my hair, which fell so deeply into my face that all I could see was white haze. It was only as I stood there staring at my foam when I realised what a day it actually was. My sister would be getting married.

"She's getting married!",, I spoke it out loudly between the bubbles and foam above my nose as it sounded so weird inside my head. Eventually, I had to sneeze. From the other side of the door, Zayn called out to me and asked if everything was alright.

I jumped out to him, one corner of the towel wrapped tightly around my waist, while the other was already halfway down. I awkwardly clung my hands onto that spot. Zayn looked past me at the wall in an alibi-like manner. "Yes, and in exactly two hours and ...", he checked his mobile phone, "fourteen minutes. We'd better hurry." Oh, and I liked how Zayn always talked about him and me, even though he wasn't even coming along. He had meant it was a bit too exciting for him to accompany me to the wedding as my plus-one.

Under a deep exhale, I went back into the bathroom to grab my brush. I leant far forward to the mirror, put one hand onto my forehead and brushed my hair back as firmly as possible with the other. It made me look incredibly unsympathetic, but it was the only way I could keep my hair under control. It always became far too curly far too quickly.

While I was getting ready to slip my legs through my suit, Zayn took the bouquet out of the punch cup. I pulled and dragged, fell back halfway onto the bed and still I noticed Zayn suddenly standing still. His eyes slowly travelled from the small envelope to me. My movements also froze however they just happened to be, "it would have felt wrong not to do it." "You're a really good guy, Harry", Zayn then said back to me.

My lips pulled into a grin and I could literally feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. Flattered, I slipped through the sleeves of my suit. They had always been a little too wide at the wrists, which is why I stuck my old safety pins under the cufflinks. "Oh, god damn it", and I had already poked past the fabric into my skin. Zayn gave me another chastising look. "Absolute twenty-four-hour curse word ban!" he teased me "Absolute twenty-four-hour curse word ban!" he teased me. I tried to make sense of the words, tucked the pack of flowers between my arms. "... And another challenge",' I said more to myself than to him.