Kendall Schmidt Imagines

Imagine #110: Writers & Singers

A delicate crown of flowers made of white lilies joined along a double band of brittle silver wires intertwined sat on top of the dresser. Four girls in pale gold dresses and curled hair stood behind you, one of the held a white veil in her hands. In the mirror, you smiled in the most girlish way possible, and stood up. The girl with dark brown hair reached for the crown and put it in your hair carefully, making sure to keep the styled hair intact. The other girl with the veil stepped ahead and helped put the veil over your face so it fell fast your waist.

In a comfy old armchair in the corner of the room sat your mother in a pink outfit, her hair straightened and cascading down her shoulders. She smiled at you as tears flooded her eyes.

"Aunt Y/M/N!" One of your cousin's put an arm around her shoulder and helped her clear her eyes without messing up her mascara or eyeliner. Like birds of a feather the gathered girls burst into chuckles. The videographer at the door held his camera over his shoulder, and another short man with a 35mm requested you and your maids you stand together for a group photo.

A clatter ran through the house and your brother came bounding in, fixing his navy blue tie.
"We've got one hour," he announced to the room. "We need to get going."
Your mother approached you and left a kiss on your veiled temple.

Your brother helped you and your dress into the car and you watched as your mother and bride's maids piled into the other car and drove off without a second glance.

"What's wrong?" You asked your immobile sibling who was clutching the steering wheel probably too hard. He looked up, his usually clear eyes were now pink and he looked like he was going to start crying.

"You look beautiful," He whispered.

You bit your lip, blinking hard several times to stop the tears from messing up your face. You reached forwards, pulling him into a hug and he held you like a four-year old hold a helium balloon, scared of loosening his grip because what if you flew away? What if he could never catch you again?

He sniffled and reached for the tissues in his pocket.
"I didn't think I'd actually need these," He croaked before clearing his throat and laughing. You smiled and stared at him. "I love you, idiot."
"I love you too, witch."

He drove you to the chapel and helped you out. Up the front marble stairs and carefully gardened hedges, you couldn't make your heart calm down. Your maids sprinted to get hold of you: tucking a hair behind your ear and smoothing out a crease in your dress. Making sure the groom's family stays out and more stifled cries.

Finally, you brother stepped back into the side-room smiling broadly.
"Come on," He held out his hand. "It's time."

You swung you hand through his with your mom fussing over the tail of your dress followed by the chatter of the girls. Your flower girl, a niece, began walking three feet ahead of you, throwing pale petals at every other mismatched step. Soft music began playing as soon as you stepped over the threshold. The guests on both sides stood up and gasps and compressed gushes sounded on either side.

Your father would have been proud, but since he wasn't there your older brother was taking up that 'Walk Her Down The Aisle' duty. The man at the altar beside the Priest turned around. His green eyes widened and his jaw sagged. His lip trembled as you giggled to yourself. Pink fought his way through behind his irises and he blinked, rubbing his eyes violently.

It was hard to believe that day was finally here. After three years of knowing him, fights, cuddles, vacations, moonlit dances, broken glasses, unspoken glances, stolen smiles, unmeant kisses, tour phone-calls, tearful video chats, kept promises and countless love later you were finally getting married.