A/N: I'm dedicating this chapter to @flourish for all her encouraging/hilarious comments!

HARRY / PRESENT

By the next morning, Zayn's disappearance was our second problem. There was a hurricane passing through Florida and Darby's parents' flight was grounded until further notice. Her youngest sister, who had come home after backpacking through Southeast Asia, was stranded with them.

My father was on his way in from London as scheduled but he had thrown his back out prior to flying and was on a buffet of pain pills.

The stag and doe was the next night and they were calling for rain.

Darby was pretending not to freak out, but honestly told she was a wreck. I was fussing about the office, making her photocopies and tidying up so she'd have less to worry about.

She'd lightened her hair a shocking shade of white blonde for the special day. It was very high fashion, but now with her pale, worried complexion, she looked ghostly.

I tucked a wild strand behind her ear. "Snow White."

"Snow White had black hair," she said.

"Snow... Uh... Snow."

The maypole ribbons she ordered online had arrived via UPS and she tore open the box like a kid on Christmas. They were the wrong ones-a quarter inch too thin. She sat in her chair, holding them and staring blankly out the window. I thought she might have a nervous breakdown.

I laid a new stack of papers on her cluttered desk, neatly moving away her notes.

"Sweetheart, you know we can postpone the wedding."

Her lip quivered. "Do you not want to do this?"

"No, no, no. I mean, yes, yes, yes of course I want to get married! I just mean that money is no object. We can cancel vendors and flights and rebook. I know you want everything to be perfect."

"I don't want a perfect wedding. I want to be married. To you," she cried. Darby sniffed into the braided bracelet on her wrist-a gift I got her when we first met that she never cut off.

The only thing that seemed to bring her back to herself was her work. She poured over old articles, photographs and video footage.

One concert caught my eye. Oslo 2012. It was outdoors, a festival, and we were on the main stage. I was singing to a girl in the front row and ran backward to join Zayn center stage but miscalculated and crashed into Louis instead. We laughed. As I moved to leave his hand lingered on my forearm. I stayed and sang into his mic while he strummed on, grinning.

There was nothing conspicuous about the old videos and photos, but if you looked closely enough you could see that Louis and I are standing next to each other in every shot until June 2012 of that year, after which we were never photographed next to each other again.

Darby noticed a shift in our demeanor but she couldn't quite put into words what it was she was seeing.

"I'm interviewing Niall today," she said.

"Today? Don't we have enough on our plate? I was sure there was some pre-wedding something-or-other we had to attend?"

"Yeah, brunch with my family. But they're not here," she retorted gloomily.

Niall had been shopping all morning, or rather he went to the addidas and Nike store, which I didn't consider proper shopping.

He had a legendary sneaker collection. The Nike Zoom Kobe VI, Pierre Hardy's Powerama's, Hussein Chayalan's 2011 Puma's, Damien Hirst's 2010 Converse, The Dunk Supreme's in blue and white, and 1982 Reebok Freestyles. There were probably more articles written about his sneakers than his music.

Niall dropped his bags in the center of the room. "Okay, where do you want me?"

"At the desk. Across from me." Darby gestured to the seat I was in. I got up and made myself scarce.

"What's this for again? Aren't we supposed to be planning a wedding?"

"It's under control," I shouted from the sofa peering at them over my phone.

Darby's hardened reporter face relaxed into an affable smile. "Since the band is here, or most of you, or some of you, I thought I might take the opportunity to revisit my 2015 article on the band's breakup and see how all of you feel about it three years later."

"It feels like shit. I wish I was still on the road with these lads."

"Back in 2015 you said you felt it was time to move on, that you were ready. I believe 'excited' was the word you used."

Niall glanced at me quickly. "Yeah... I guess you don't know what you have until it's gone."

"I'm wondering about the timing though. You had just three more dates on the tour before you all disbanded for good. If the split was amicable, why not complete the tour?"

"Is everyone getting these hard questions?"

"You think these questions are hard?"

"Yes, I do, Jack Bauer!"

"What was the last concert like?"

"It was in New York."

"Do you remember any details from the show."

"All the shows kind of bleed together, ya know?"

"Try."

He started shuffling the papers on Darby's desk. Holding up the awkward photos of Liam. "Can I doodle on these?"

"No."

"Uh, fine. We did some songs off the latest album that we'd never performed before: Drag Me Down, Infinity and Perfect, I think."

"Anything out of the ordinary happen?"

"Louis was pulling his usual shit, but that wasn't out of the ordinary for him."

"Like what?"

"Picking stuff up off the stage and attacking us with it. He got hold of a fire extinguisher that night."

"See, you do have a good memory!"

He sunk down in his seat wringing his hands. "Yeah, whatever, it could have been silly string."

"What happened backstage that night?" Darby probed.

"Um, Liam was tuning up, Zayn was lookin' around for antihistamines. He had allergies and was worried it might fuck up his voice."

"Where were Louis and Harry?"

"I'm right here, you know?" I shouted.

"I'll talk to you later. Respect the process," she snapped.

"Aren't you supposed to question witnesses separately?" Niall asked.

"I didn't realize a crime was committed... Moving on."

Niall was sweating. "Harry was in their-I mean, his dressing room."

Darby was typing fluidly up until this point, then she stopped. "So he was alone in his dressing room?"

"Yes."

"Where was Louis?"

"I don't know."

"Was he in his dressing room?"

"Could have been."

"So you knew Harry was in his dressing room but you're not sure about Louis?"

Niall nodded.

"What happened after the show?"

"Can I have a spot of tea?" He coughed. "Throat's dry."

I went into the kitchen and grabbed a cup and saucer from the cupboard, the porcelain pieces clattering as I set them on the counter.

"We left the venue and went back to the hotel."

"Did you all leave together?"

"I left with Liam."

"The others stayed behind? What happened?"

"No, Zayn left a couple hours later. Then Louis and Harry."

"Louis and Harry left together?"

"No, they weren't allowed to-"

"Here's your tea, Niall," I said through clenched teeth.

He took the cup and tried not to spill it.

"It's funny," Darby said. "You guys have been papped leaving concerts together so many times. I've never seen you leave separately. Separate cars maybe. But not hours apart."

"There's a first time for everything."

"And it happens to coincide with the date of your last concert."

Niall pursed his lips. "Hot."

Darby knew when she couldn't get any more out juice out of her subject. And while Niall didn't really give her any valuable information the interview did raise some questions that she had never thought to ask me before. Questions she would later pose to Liam. She finished typing and put her feet up on the desk.

"Now," she said. Niall practically jumped out of his skin. "Lemme see your new kicks!"

***

Liam had the brilliant idea to chop down our own wood for the bonfire. There was a place an hour out of the city that catered to urbanites who wanted to embrace their inner lumberjack. My inner lumberjack was nonexistent, but Liam who owned a disproportionate amount of flannel since moving to Brooklyn insisted we give it a go.

It was a nice drive. Buildings and concrete gave way to trees and foliage in a blur of blue sky.

Niall slept in the passenger's seat and Liam drove. I lay down in the back in my Ray-Bans despite Liam's complaints about my not wearing a seatbelt.

When we stepped out onto the soggy terrain I began to regret my wardrobe choices. Denim skinnies, a v-neck T and suede Chelsea boots were not the most practical option, though I thought I looked pretty rugged when I left that morning. I scratched my pants and wondered how exactly one got sap out of a lycra-denim blend.

Niall wasn't faring much better. His silky basketball shorts kept snagging on branches and his white hoodie was already speckled with mud.

Liam went to the trunk and pulled out three axes. He threw them against his shoulder with a grin like a murderer from a B horror flick.

"I really don't like where this is going," said Niall.

I lifted my sunglasses to examine it. "You know, I have literally never used an axe before."

"Hard to believe," Liam said drily. He handed us each an axe. It was heavier than I expected.

"We should probably chop down a half a cord if we want to keep the fire going all night."

"What's a cord?" I said.

Liam sighed. "It's a unit of measure of dry volume for firewood."

"You say it like everyone knows that," I said.

"It's common outdoorsy knowledge."

Niall looked at him. "Mate, you're from Birmingham."

"Yeah," I added. "And I don't think outdoorsy types call themselves outdoorsy."

"What do they call themselves then?" Liam was holding his axe at the base of some poor little elm tree.

"Men," I said.

"Manly men!" Niall grunted. He made one swift chop and his axe got stuck.

"You know who would appreciate this?" said Liam.

"Darby?" I said with a clumsy swing that landed too high.

"No, Louis."

Niall was still struggling to loosen his blade. "Yeah right. Before or after he'd get us to do all the dirty work?"

"What I mean is, he'd appreciate the spirit in which this activity is intended."

My chops weren't as powerful and Niall or Liam's. I barely cracked the bark. If the goal was to collect woodchips I might have been very good at this but after a dozen chops the tree was nowhere near falling.

"I'm still trying to figure out what that is," I said panting.

"Couldn't we just take him to a strip club like normal groomsmen?" said Niall.

"Hazza, do you want to go to a strip club?"

"Nope."

"You see what we have to work with?" Liam commiserated.

Liam managed to chop down one tree. I had to run out of the way.

"This is pretty dangerous."

"Oh yeah, I was supposed to decide which way I wanted it to fall first and," he checked the wood chopping wiki on his phone, "determine an escape route."

"Thanks for telling us," said Niall.

After successfully chopping down one tree, we decided to take a break. I packed a thermos and some sandwiches: banana and peanut butter for Liam, and Nutella and graham cracker for Niall.

I brought a quinoa salad for myself. Niall made the requisite gagging sound at the site of my meal.

"Dude, you brought cutlery too?"

"How else are you supposed to eat a salad?"

Liam looked up. "I think it's going to rain."

"You're just saying that so we don't have to keep chopping!" I accused.

"Need I remind you that I'm the only one who actually chopped down a tree?"

"And you almost killed the groom in the process," Niall added.

The groom. It sounded like he was referring to someone else. I still didn't see myself as groom or a husband for that matter but I was sure that would change. Or maybe Darby and I were above those heternormative assignations. Or maybe I was scared.

I checked my watch. "I have to pick up my dad from the airport at half past seven."

"Pappa Styles!" Niall cheered.

"Now there's a man you want at your bachelor party," said Liam.

"Do you think he'll go out clubbing with us again?"

"He's thrown his back out and is on like a zillion different pain killers."

"So, yes."

We laughed.

"Has he met Darby before?" I wasn't sure if this was one of Liam's subtle digs. He'd been a bit skeptical at the speed of our nuptials.

"Once," I said.

"Do they get along?" Niall asked.

"He loves her." That was the truth, and after five years with my father and Louis at each other's throats, it was a refreshing change of pace.

We all must have been thinking the same thing because Liam then said, "Lou loved to aggravate the old man."

"Another good reason for Lou not to be there."

Niall stared down at his shoes. I could tell he disagreed.

They seemed to want to say something to me. I had seen them hinting at it all day-Liam nudging Niall, Niall nudging Liam.

"Come out with it already."

Liam crossed his arms. "Darby's approached me about doing an interview."

"You should do it. The piece means a lot to her."

"I've been thinking. We've been thinking, that maybe you should tell her. Everything."

I had been so focused on keeping the truth from her at all costs that I hadn't really considered what might happen if I just came clean.

"Days before the wedding? I haven't read any bridal magazines but I'm sure this sort of thing fall under some nightmare category of grooms from hell."

Niall wiped the Nutella from the corners of his mouth with his sleeve. "It seems to us that if you want to move forward, you need to be honest with her. She loves you. She would want to know the truth."

"And more importantly," said Liam, "she knows we're hiding something. And that gossip cop, Sarah, is definitely onto you. Would you rather Darby find out from her?"

I thought about the relief I might feel if I did just tell her everything. Then I remembered what she looked like when I left the flat that morning, drained, stressed and fragile.

"I know what you're saying but it's not the right time."

Liam bit his upper lip and nodded, something he did when he was disappointed in one of us.

"I hope after the wedding is the right time," he said trying not to sound too sarcastic.

In the end we decided to buy the firewood and load up Liam's car. That too proved to be a struggle. So much for being lumberjacks.

I checked my phone to see if I had any messages from Zayn. Nothing. Where was he? And why wouldn't he at least text one of us back?

***

Darby came with me to the airport. It looked like the weather in Florida was clearing and that flights might soon resume, delayed though of course.

My father was elegant flyer. He didn't wear a suit to work but he would wear one on the plane. He was square and powerful with an aquiline nose that mirrored my own and silver hair carefully brushed to one side. He was a good deal older than my mother when they married and as such always felt a little out of place within a young family. They got divorced when I was seven. My mom would arrive the day before the wedding. My father insisted on coming early so he could spend some time with my future wife.

The airport was crowded so I waited in the car while Darby went in to greet him. He had bought me some duty free cologne and some chocolate for Darby.

"Son! You alright."

"How are ya dad?"

"Did you miss me?"

"Always."

After detailing the plots of the movies he watched on the plane, he moved on to question us about the wedding. He was staying in a hotel thirty minutes from our loft and we had dinner in the lobby.

The waiter found a darkened leather booth for us in the corner.

"So the lads are all here then? The press giving you much trouble?"

"They're almost all here. Zayn took off."

"You should call up his mum, she'll have words with him."

"That might work. If he were seven."

"He'll turn up. Don't stress out the poor thing." He clasped Darby's hand. She nodded appreciatively.

She was cheerful during dinner, ordering my dad an extra dessert when he wasn't looking and laughing at the same jokes she'd heard the last time they met, but it was obvious that she was exhausted. She cradled her head in her hand and shut her eyes.

When she got up to go to the washroom my father turned to me. "I'm happy for you son."

"Thanks, Dad."

"It was touch and go there for a while but I knew you'd outgrow that childish infatuation and settle down with a strong woman like Darby."

I motioned for him to keep his voice down.

"Don't worry," he whispered. "I wasn't going to tell her. She doesn't need to know about all your flings."

I pushed away my messy plate. "Yeah, let's not talk about him..." But my father's words irked me. I shouldn't have taken the bait, he was probably loopy from the meds, but I did. "It wasn't a fling. It was a proper relationship, the only real relationship I've had besides this one."

He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "You boys spent too much time together, on tour, on the bus, causing trouble up in hotel rooms. You were lonely, isolated, that's all. If you only knew some of the things I saw at boarding school--"

"Dad it wasn't like that and you know it. Louis..."

"Was a bastard?"

"You were impossible! Nothing he ever said or did could please you!"

"That's no excuse for his behavior. The lad had an awful temper."

"So do you!" Why was I arguing? I completely agreed with him.

"He was out of control and the two of you together were like wild dogs!"

"We were young."

He nodded. "Exactly. It wasn't a mature relationship."

"It was real though. We really did love each other... Back then, I mean."

My father narrowed his eyes. "Why are you defending him? Please don't tell me he's coming to the wedding."

"He's not," I muttered.

"Good."

Darby came back to the table and slipped into the booth next to me. Her cheeks were blotchy and her eyes puffy like she'd been crying.

Oh God, she heard us. She heard everything and now she knows about Louis and me and she hates me. She'll never understand. She'll never forgive me. She'll never marry me.

"Found Zayn," she sniffed and handed me her phone.

"Oh," I said, relieved in more ways than one.

Zayn was trending on Twitter with the hashtag #zaynmalikallovermyface. We could all be forgiven for thinking sex tape.

It was more innocent than that. He'd staggered out of a club and a fan asked him to sign her cheek and then several more girls asked him to sign their faces: Foreheads, chins, noses, ears and bottom lips. I prayed that none of those girls managed to find an open tattoo parlor that night.

I tried to work out which club he was standing outside of. "I can't tell where he's at," I said squinting at my phone.

"That's because he isn't in New York." Darby took the phone back and showed me another photo of him eating breakfast in Covent Garden.

Zayn was in London.

With Louis.

I hadn't seen a photograph of Louis in over two years. I had to remember to breathe. He looked startlingly different, just as beautiful, but different. His features were at once broader and sharper. His blonde scruff was neatly trimmed and he wore a tailored suit that showed off the lines of his body but concealed every one of his tattoos. What remained identical was his fiery stare and signature smirk, which he shot pointedly at the camera--at me.

Zayn on the other hand hid behind sunglasses and a hoodie. He was drinking a Bloody Mary looking guilty as fuck, like he'd just killed someone and Louis drove the getaway car.

If this was war, Louis was winning.

A/N: I'm so excited to have gotten to this point in the story. The next "Present" chapter will FINALLY include Louis.

Thanks for hanging in there.

Next week I'll be posting a "Past" chapter that introduces Kitty Drift and Edwin Calder.