A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Louis Tomlinson. Happy Birthday, Louis! I hope Harry bakes you a cake.

This chapter takes place the night before Harry and Darby's wedding, at their rehearsal dinner. It's told mostly in Louis' POV but it switches to Harry's POV at the end.

LOUIS

We couldn't find the restaurant. Niall and I must have driven around for an hour before we finally stumbled upon that hole-in-the-wall that Darby was so fond of. Couldn't one part of this godforsaken wedding take place in a proper venue? It was dark and cramped with orange lighting and cracked mouldings. Kitchy artwork and signed photos of '80s sitcom stars adorned the walls, and candles melted into pools of wax on the checkered tablecloths. We were the only party there that night but I couldn't imagine they were able to fit many more people in a place like this.

I spotted Harry's mum and sister. Anne threw herself into my arms like I was a life preserver.

"Thank God you're here!" she gasped.

"I wouldn't let you go through this alone, Anne."

"What's this about them getting married in a public park with no security?"

"That's nothing. Did you know Harry's wearing a cotton suit! The whole thing's a disaster if you ask me."

She pinched my cheek.

Harry's mum was nothing short of a goddess, and a surrogate mother for me when my mum was busy with my siblings and couldn't come out on tour. Anne taught me to iron a shirt, make tea the way Harry likes it and change the oil in my car. I always just assumed she would be my mum one day, that Harry's wedding would be my wedding and Anne and I would be in each other's lives forever. But without the band and without Harry we drifted apart. I hadn't realized how much I missed her and how much I needed her until that very moment.

"Come sit by me," she said.

Harry's dad sat across from us and stared at me grimly. "Hello Louis, you look." He searched for a compliment. "Sober tonight."

"Thanks Mr. Styles. You don't."

Anne bit her lip to stifle a laugh.

"Have you met my future daughter-in-law? She's lovely isn't she? Every father-in-law's dream." Des threw his arms out, presenting Darby like a game show host.

Darby was wearing another one of her inexplicable peasant dresses. I had to admit I looked fucking amazing in low-cut T-shirt and a blazer. There was really no contest.

"Hi, Louis," she said, not unpleasantly.

Two could play at that game. "Hiya, Darby. Interesting restaurant you've chosen. It sure was an adventure trying to find it. What fun!"

"Thanks," she said passing the breadbasket around. "Harry and I come here every week on our date night."

Date night. They'd had hundreds of dates and now there would be infinity dates because they were getting married.

"Where is he?" I asked casually.

"He and Zayn are rehearsing the song he wrote for the wedding." She lowered her voice and smiled. "He's been very secretive about it. All I know is the title: If I Could Fly."

My stomach dropped. That was the song he wrote for me. He was giving my song to her. It's for you... It's all for you. How could he take this away from me? It was all I had left of him.

Darby's family looked about as happy to be there as I did. They were probably still reeling from the Kitty drama. The Rose women all had the same upturned mouths with honey brown eyes and blonde hair. Her sister Abby wore it cropped close to her head and her mother Maggie wore it in an unassuming bob. Together they all looked like different versions of the same woman. Her father George had no idea who 1D was and was decidedly not starstruck by any celebrities with the exception of the Detroit Red Wings and Harrison Ford. I hadn't seen her father smile once and her sister and mother spoke to each other and to Darby's girlfriends, barely including Anne in the conversation. Not that Anne cared. She linked an arm through mine.

"Tell me everything, Louis. How are you dealing with all this?"

"Oh, you know me. I'm being agreeable and minding my own business."

"Come off it. That doesn't sound like you at all."

A beleaguered Liam entered the restaurant with Sophia. Cordelia and Bedelia ran ahead and jumped on Niall's lap.

I was in no mood for a lecture from Liam but I had a feeling I would get one. "Louis, you made it."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," I said, throwing back a glass of pinot noir.

He scratched the side of his nose. "I thought we talked and you said you weren't coming, remember?"

"Oh, turns out the thing I had was cancelled."

He forced a smile. Liam had spent the better part of the morning trying to convince me not to come. I actually wasn't planning on it but when I heard that they all thought it was a bad idea then I pretty much had to.

Everyone was looking at the menu oooohing and aaaaahing at the bland offerings with quirky names like Tony Soprano Spaghetti and Mother Theresa Tagliatelli. Niall was in heaven and asked for two orders of spaghetti and garlic bread. My foot twitched involuntarily waiting for Harry to arrive. I glanced across the table and noticed that Darby was just as anxious.

Harry's dad was having a good time but still wouldn't let up. "Do you know what I love about Darby, Louis?"

I didn't say anything.

"She's so... even-tempered."

"Every man's dream, innit?" I mocked. "A woman who's ever-tempered."

Des who'd already had one scotch too many leaned against the table. "That's the sort of thing that makes a mature relationship work."

Darby laughed, "Thanks. I am even-tempered. I've always been told I'd make a great interrogator."

"You can say that again," I muttered. "Speaking of interrogations, Darby, when will you be interviewing me for your piece?"

Anne, shaking her head, said, "Darby, Louis is central to the group. I can't believe you haven't interviewed him already!"

I loved it when Anne was outraged on my behalf.

"I was hoping we could do it tonight," she said, calling my bluff. "I know our interviews haven't gone as expected in the past but--"

"Yeah," I said. "You made a few rookie mistakes back then."

Her face reddened. Check mate.

Harry walked in wearing a billowy shirt with the sleeves rolled up, unbuttoned to his tanned sternum. His hair hung in his eyes and he dragged a hand through it with his long ringed fingers. I pulled out my phone to keep from staring.

He spotted Darby and went to her immediately, greeting her with playful kiss on the ear, the way he used to greet me. It was like stepping into a parallel universal where up was down and left was right.

On top of everything else, he wouldn't even acknowledge me. He stretched his arm across the back of Darby's chair and kept his eyes on the cutlery.

"Have you decided what you're having," Anne asked me.

"No," I said. "I've lost my appetite."

Zayn was sitting on the other end of the table talking to Liam about his and Harry's little rehearsal. Traitor.

"Lou!" He hollered. "Come sit by me."

"I'm fine where I am, thank you."

Zayn frowned. I didn't give a fuck if he thought I was being pissy.

I reached across the table grazing Harry's hand and snatched the bottle of wine. I poured myself a third or fourth glass. I'd stopped counting.

The waiter came around and I crossed my arms. Anne took the liberty of ordering me a cannoli, which I picked at silently as she tried to make nice with Darby's mother. The waiter came around again and I promptly ordered another bottle of red.

Harry was speaking to his boring future-father-in-law, about gardening or roofing or some such nonsense, but was watching me out the corner of his eye.

"You should eat something," he said suddenly.

"Oh, so we're talking now. That's happening." My voice was louder than I'd intended. I hadn't spoken in about half an hour and didn't realize how drunk I was already.

Niall came around and clasped my shoulder. I didn't need to look at Liam to know that he wanted to murder me.

"Louis," Harry said softly. "Please eat something." Then he mouthed, "I'm worried about you."

How did he have the audacity to worry about me after giving my song to Darby and ignoring me all night? He had no right to be all cute and concerned for my well-being. No right!

"I'm fine, Harry." I choked back a bite of cannoli. "See?"

Down on the other end of the table Gemma clinked her glass with her fork and proposed a game. Oh God, this was that last thing I needed. I hated party games. Gemma, why have you forsaken me! This one had the potential to be truly mortifying. We had to go around the table and describe the person to our left with one song.

"I'll go first." Gemma narrowed her eyes at Niall and tapped her fingers against her lips, "He surfs every day and he lives in L.A. but he's an old soul... I'm gonna go with Hotel California, the Eagles."

We all clapped in agreement and Niall approved of the choice.

He turned to Zayn and hit the table. "I've got it: Thriller, Michael Jackson."

Zayn sang the chorus, hitting the high notes flawlessly.

Zayn turned to Liam, their gentle brown eyes melding into an adoring gaze. "It's So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday, Boyz II Men." He rubbed the top of Liam's head and they hugged.

I was sick of this game already. "Get a room!" I barked.

It was my turn but I had Darby's sister Abby on my right and she really didn't know me at all so she couldn't think of a song.

As everyone else tried to help her come up with one, I took a swig of wine and challenged Harry, "What song am I, Hazza? Oh come on, if anyone knows it ought to be you."

He refused to look at me when he answered, his arm firmly planted around Darby's shoulder. "Sympathy for the Devil, The Rolling Stones."

There was dead silence at the table. My face flushed with anger and humiliation.

"Well, at least it's a good song." Niall shrugged.

Once we got to the other side of the table, Harry's father was delighted to get to pick a song about Darby. "As you all know, my future daughter-in-law is perfect in every conceivable way. I have to go with Heaven Must Be Missing and Angel, Tavares."

Darby patted his back. "Thanks Dad."

Dad! She hasn't even walked down the aisle yet! I was with Harry for four years and he still made me call him Mr. Styles.

It was Darby's turn to choose a song for Harry. She kissed him first. Was that really necessary? I waited for her uninspired choice. She'd probably go with some obscure German electro-pop band nobody's heard of just to show off. She picked up the silver cross on Harry chest and laid it back down gently. "Peace in the Valley, Elvis."

"Brilliant choice," said Liam, nodding eagerly with approval.

"Very spiritual and zen, very Harry," Zayn agreed.

"Harry is basically our generation's Elvis," Niall chimed in.

Harry sang a little for those who weren't familiar with the gospel song, There will be peace in the valley for me, for me...

I let out a snort of derision. Peace was the last thing Harry wanted. He might look like a lamb on the outside, but on the inside burned a fire of contradictions: he was as needy as he was generous, as naughty as he was good, sinfully sexy and innocent as a child. He was all of these things crashing together in perfect harmony.

"You don't agree with my choice, Louis?" Darby asked, not at all surprised by my bitchiness.

"Not really, no."

"What song would you pick?"

The lads turned to each other terrified of what might come out of my mouth. I felt Anne's hand on my arm like she was trying to hold me back.

My eyes bore into Darby's. "Harry isn't a song, he's a symphony."

Unbridled emotion welled up in my voice. I leaned back in my chair and shut my eyes to keep the room from spinning. The lads were desperate to change the subject, so the topic of conversation switched to the wedding.

"Speaking of songs," said Darby. "I wish you'd sing a bit of the song you wrote for me." She laced her fingers through Harry's on the table.

"It's a surprise. No one's heard it besides Zayn and that's just because he's singing it with me."

My head snapped up so fast I almost gave myself whiplash. "That's not true! I've heard it!"

Everyone at the table turned to me.

Harry went pale.

Liam kicked me under the table. "Right, you must have heard Zayn humming it as they walked in."

"No," I said. "Harry played if for me. In his bedroom."

Anne's mouth hung open and Des looked absolutely livid. Only Darby, her friends and family were completely clueless. It was unbelievable. Zayn and Liam still couldn't sit next to each other without raising a few eyebrows, meanwhile Harry and I had lived together for four years and they were none the wiser.

That didn't stop Darby from being jealous. "Well, what did it sound like?"

"Darby--" Harry started.

She brushed him off. "I'm not asking him to sing it for me, I want him to describe it."

I steepled my fingers beneath my chin. "It's slow. Melodic..."

"And the lyrics?"

"Romantic, definitely. Passionate. Wild. Sensual."

"Any other hints? What does the song describe?"

Me! It describes me! "A very complicated love."

She turned to Harry, "Complicated?" She was smiling but I could tell that I had rattled her. Their relationship was about as complicated as white bread.

Harry stood up and excused himself.

I reached for the wine but Des snatched it from me. "You've had enough."

"Oh let the boy have another, you old sod." Anne poured me a glass. I was going to need all the booze I could get to survive this night.

Zayn hollered at me from the other end of the table, "Save some for the rest of us!"

"Fuck you!"

After about ten minutes when Harry didn't come back, I got up to go to the loo.

Liam stopped me. "No, don't go down there."

"You don't own the loo, Liam!"

Even though nobody could work out what the tension was about, they were suspicious.

I walked, or staggered rather, to the back of the restaurant, down a cave-like stairwell to the cool, grey, stone washroom.

Harry splashed water on his face and patted it dry with a hand towel. "Oh, it's you."

"I didn't come down here to apologize."

Harry's eyes darkened. "Why did you come tonight at all? Was it just to ruin our lives?"

"We have to stop hurting each other like this."

"You are hurting me," he lifted his bloodshot eyes to meet mine.

"You gave her my song, Harry."

"Song lyrics are open to interpretation."

I recoiled at his impassive response. I couldn't handle the dramatic change in him since yesterday. No, it was more than that. Harry was no longer that pretty teen who used to flit around me like a hummingbird as I wrote angsty ballads about him. He was writing his own songs now, writing his own destiny, a destiny that he decided I wasn't a part of.

"Do what you want with the song," I spat, too drunk to conceal the pain in my voice. "It wasn't very good anyway."

This cut him. Harry's chest swelled and he pushed me against the hand dryer. "You're spiteful and cruel, Lou. That's why I'm with Darby. She's a good person and she makes me better."

I pushed him back. "You still don't get it, do you? You are that person for me, Harry. You make me better."

I pulled out a cigarette.

"You can't smoke in here."

"Fine." I walked into the stall on the end, letting the door swing open behind me.

Harry chased after me and locked the door behind us. I leaned against the stone wall. It was nice and cool on the back of my head.

"Leave me alone. Go back upstairs," I ordered.

"Not until you apologize."

"You know, she's going to find out about us if you're not careful." I couldn't understand why he hadn't told her about our past. For all her faults—and there were many—she was open-minded. There was no way she would care that he had been with a man. Something else was holding him back. It was like their relationship could only exist if he pretended that ours hadn't.

"I'm going to tell her everything. I'm just waiting for the right time."

"Will you mention that we almost fucked yesterday?"

"We didn't almost fuck. We were nowhere close."

I laughed and ashed into the toilet. "Oh, okay," I said before launching into an impression of him and his deep Cheshire accent, "Please, Louis, fuck me, I love your huge, beautiful c0ck..."

Harry scrunched up his nose like a bunny, trying extraordinarily hard not to laugh. "I didn't say that."

"Yeah, but you were thinking it."

Harry opened his hand. "Can I have one?"

"A cigarette? Harold, you don't smoke."

He shrugged. "I just feel like having one."

I handed him a cigarette and watched him clumsily lean forward into the flame in my hand.

"How do I look?"

"Like a little boy who's been in his mum's handbag."

We stood there silently smoking for a minute. Well, I was smoking. Harry was coughing. It was preposterous, the two of us hiding in a stall in the men's washroom. I'd never felt more closeted, not even when I was actually in the closet years ago. I was sure we were setting the gay rights movement back at least a decade

"It shouldn't be this way," I said. "We're free from Modest. Why are we still hiding?"

Harry brought the cigarette up thoughtfully to his plush lips. "You are Modest, Louis. You're a suit now... The patient running the asylum."

I bristled at his crass assessment. "Did it ever occur to you that I got into this business to change things, so that what happened to us doesn't happen to anyone else?"

It hadn't occurred to him and Harry looked remorseful that it hadn't.

"I'm out, Harry. I didn't make an announcement or anythin', but I don't hide it anymore. I'm a proud gay man."

Harry's nostrils flared. I'd touched a nerve. He was the one who was hiding. He used to bang loudly on the closet door and now he wouldn't even admit that our relationship had existed. The only thing that hurt more than not being with him in the present was his erasure of our past.

"I meant what I said yesterday." He whispered. "About not being with any other man, except you."

Was this an explanation? An excuse? A peace offering?

"Good for you."

His sparkly boot kicked my patent leather shoe. "You didn't tell me about you. How many guys have you been with... you know, since me," he said in a tiny voice.

"Dunno. How many green-eyed, curly-haired guys are there in London?"

"Be serious."

"I am."

Harry scowled. "So, you've slept with, what, hundreds of guys?"

"Don't you dare judge me! I'm lonely. So what if I have a lot of sex."

"Good thing we didn't fuck then, since all you care about sex and you already get so much of it!" He pouted.

I would be angry with him if he weren't so transparent.

"Yeah, I'm glad we didn't." This whole situation was enough of a mind-fuck without throwing sex into the mix. "It would have been a mistake. It would have been amazing, but a mistake."

Harry began to distractedly trace the graffiti on the stall door with his finger. "A big mistake. The biggest... How would it happen though, if we did do it? Hypothetically, I mean."

What was he asking me? To describe to him in this filthy stall exactly how I'd like to fuck him? I guess I wasn't the only one who'd had too much wine tonight. Too bad Liam wasn't around to hear this request. Maybe if he heard the real Harry for once he'd get off my back.

I took a long drag from my cigarette. "Let's see... You're such c0ck slut you'd probably beg to blow me first."

"Louis! Don't be vulgar."

He had some nerve calling me vulgar when he was demanding dirty talk in the loo.

"Then I'd ask you to get on all fours--"

"Wait, you wouldn't want me on my back, to, you know, look into my eyes or something?" he blurted out sheepishly.

"I prefer you on your knees."

Harry blanched, a long ember from his cigarette falling onto his pants. He frantically brushed the ash away.

"Okay," I relented. "I'd have you on your back."

"You'd warm me up first," he said, his glassy green eyes on my hands. "With your fingers."

I flexed my fingers, still holding the cigarette, recalling how they felt inside Harry's tight, velvety entrance the day before.

"No."

"No?"

"With my tongue."

Whatever remained of Harry's composure was now cracking. He arched his back and looked up at the ceiling breathing a little heavier now.

"Then I would fuck you until you came all over your stomach and chest."

"Then you would come right after," he supplied breathlessly.

"No, I would keep going."

His eyes widened. "That doesn't sound very, like, romantic. We should come together."

"You know, you're a bossy hypothetical lover."

"Then what? Keep going."

"I'd make you come again."

"You're... confident." Harry swallowed. "Then what?"

"Then I would come. Deep inside you."

"And?"

I wasn't sure what Harry was getting at but the way he hovered over me now, crowding me into the corner of the stall, made me realize it was something specific.

"What would you say afterwards?"

I laughed nervously. Heat rose up from beneath my collar to my cheeks. How had the tables turned so quickly? This was my story. I was supposed to be in control here, not him. "I would tell you I loved you," I replied meekly.

"What would I say?"

"Nothing."

"Come on, Louis. I would say something, wouldn't I? Hypothetically."

My eyes stung with tears. When did he turn into such a sadist? "You--you would tell me you loved me too."

Harry placed a hand on my chest and I trembled, my broken heart beating with shame into his palm.

"Oh, Louis..."

Because this moment wasn't painful enough, Liam suddenly banged on the stall door, Zayn at his side.

"Is everything alright in there, lads?"

"Fine," Harry said throwing our cigarettes into the toilet and flushing them.

"We're getting kind of worried upstairs. Niall's doing impressions of your in-laws. They are not amused."

We came out. Harry first. I looked in the mirror to dry my eyes and fix my hair. Liam's reflection glared back at me.

"Liam, you're obviously dying to say something so why not just come out with it."

He stuck his balled up fists into his dad pants and launched into a tirade: "You caused quite the scene upstairs with that nonsense about the song and then you disappear into the loo with Harry and neither of you come out for twenty minutes, while me and Zayn and Niall try to explain that you're mending your friendship, which is perplexing to everybody since this night is supposed to be about Darby and Harry, not you!"

Harry looked down at his shoes. "It's my fault."

But it was Zayn who was really getting angry now. "And Lou can you please chill about that song?"

"You're a fucking traitor, Malik! You said you would never be part of this wedding and now you're the best man and helping him perform the song he wrote for me, for her."

Harry's eyes widened. "Is that true, Zayn? You don't want to be my best man?"

"Fuck!" Zayn hollered. "I am so sick of both of you. You guys tore apart the band with your bullshit and now you're going to mess up Darby's life too. This is fucked up."

Harry winced. I thought he might cry.

"Don't raise your voice to him!" I snapped pushing Harry behind me. "It's my fault. You're right. You're all right! I was a little bitch about that song and cornered Harry in the stall."

"God, I knew it," said Liam. "Louis, you shouldn't have come tonight. If you can't let the past stay in the past you really should bow out. It's their day. You have to respect that."

I wanted to scream from the rooftops that Harry was the one who couldn't get over the past. I bit my tongue.

"I know. You're right. I'll leave."

"You're just gonna go?" Harry said, disappointed.

Zayn was literally banging his head against the wall.

"I'll make up some excuse, tell everyone I had too much to drink."

"Not just an excuse," Liam muttered under his breath.

"Oh, shut it."

Liam and Zayn exited the bathroom first with Harry and me trailing behind them.

"Louis," said Harry. "I don't want you to go. Stay. It's important to me."

I pulled him back down into the darkened stairwell. "Harry, it's not too late. Don't go through with this wedding out of some misguided sense of duty. Fuck that. Do what feels right."

"I made my choice, Louis."

"Just think about it. There's still time. I'll be here for you whatever you decide." My voice was hoarse. "I love you even if you don't love me back."

I didn't wait for him to respond. I couldn't. If he looked at me with pity because he didn't feel the same, I wouldn't be able to handle it. I ran out ahead of him and into the restaurant, making loud excuses about my terrible headache and yelling about how I needed to get rest for tomorrow because it's Harry and Darby's big day. Yay!

Des didn't do much to conceal his delight at my early departure. "Well, goodnight. Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Anne sighed with worry, and straightened my jacket.

Niall too got up and patted me on the back, "You alright mate?"

"I'll be fine," I said.

Harry resumed charming his future in-laws but I prayed that the last moment we shared was enough to change his mind about the wedding. There were only a few hours left. It felt like I was losing a football match that had gone into extra time. It was damn near impossible but even a small amount of hope was still hope.

Darby stood up. "Wait, you can't go," she said. Of all the people there, she was the last person I expected would want me to stay.

"The interview."

"Oh, right."

Sheer panic spread across Harry's face. "He really needs to go, Darby. He has work to do."

"I thought he wasn't feeling well?" said Darby.

Oh God, Harry was a terrible liar.

"No, no, Harry's right. I've got a couple of calls to make and I'm exhausted."

Darby pushed her chair back and moved around the table to have a word with me privately. She kissed the top of Harry's head as she did so, which made my whole body flex possessively.

"Are you leaving just to avoid the interview?"

"Get over yourself. I forgot that you wanted to interview me."

"Well, I do. When are you leaving for London?"

"Right after the wedding. I'm taking the red-eye."

"How about tomorrow morning? Your hotel."

"On your wedding day?"

"Work is work. Stories don't come to you, you have to go after them."

Ugh, this Lois Lane routine was insufferable.

I pulled out my phone to dial a car. "I guess that's fine. I'm staying at the Four Seasons."

"Not at Liam's?"

"Niall got sick of sharing a bed with me."

"Bet you haven't had that problem before."

I smirked. "Never."

HARRY

After seeing our friends and family to their respective cabs, Darby and I decided to walk home. I held her slender hand in mine and we strolled down the side streets to our flat like we'd done so many nights before. Alberto's was our place. It felt like us. Darby discovered it while jogging. She had a knack for finding these colorful little places tucked away like Easter eggs all over our burrow. Every time Darby and I had dinner there I remember feeling completely content, safe, happy. Tonight was different. I wanted so much for things to be as they were but something inside me had changed. Being around Louis again changed me.

We rounded the corner to our flat. Darby's head rested on my chest. She pulled out her keys, a colorful mass so cluttered with key chains she could barely find the house key most days.

"It's in here somewhere," she said. This key-finding ritual of hers never stopped being funny to me even when I was feeling out of sorts. She was so adorable and nutty and sweet. I was so lucky to have her. Why wasn't that enough?

As she opened the door and headed to the lift I stopped dead in my tracks.

"Oh my God," I said, checking my pockets. "I left my phone with Liam."

"What? Really?" she said, her white blonde hair fluttering around her face in the windy doorway.

"Yeah, I asked him to take some pictures at dinner and forgot to ask for it back. I need to go to his flat and get it."

"The night before our wedding? Can't it wait until morning?"

"What if mum calls?" I stammered. "Or Gemma or dad needs to reach me or..."

"You can answer them in the morning."

"Or I can get my phone now. It'll be quick. I'll take a taxi, pick it up and come right home."

Darby struggled with this. She'd just gotten over her suspicions about Kitty.

"You know most couples spend the night before their wedding apart," I said.

"We're not most couples." A small frown formed at the corners of her lips. "Go, I'll wait up for you."

"No, get some sleep. You need your rest for tomorrow."

I hailed a cab, and reluctantly she stepped inside the entrance to our building and disappeared into the lift.

The cabbie looked at me in the rearview mirror. "Where are we going?"

"The Four Seasons."

A/N: I can't say too much about next week's chapter without giving the story away, but things happen and it's far from over.

Happy Holidays everyone!