One Direction preference

50. you're upset your dad wont be able to walk you down the aisle

NIALL:  As the two of you sit in the living room of your house, trying to figure out the seating arrangements for your reception, you start to feel yourself growing angry and upset.  Sensing your frustration, Niall says, “Let’s put this aside for a little while.  There’s no point in doing this right now if it’s just gonna stress you out.”  “It needs to get done, Niall.  The clock is ticking,” you respond flatly, never tearing your gaze from the charts in front of you on the coffee table.  “Babe…” Niall starts, recognizing that you’re on the edge and about to burst any moment.  “We have to do this stupid thing all over again.  We screwed up and counted wrong… Damn it!” you shout, tossing your pen and notepad down.  You bury your face in your hands, on the verge of tears, and Niall scoots closer to you on the couch to wrap an arm around your shoulders and pull you close into his side.  “This isn’t about the seating chart…so what’s really going on?” he asks.  You take a deep breath before explaining, “I’m just really mad at my dad.  I’m mad that he walked out on us.  I’m mad that I haven’t seen him in 20 years.  I’m mad that he won’t be there to walk me down the aisle…”  “Oh, baby…  I’m sorry.  I didn’t realize this was all bothering you so much.”  You sniffle as you say, “It’s just that I’ve been dreaming about this day for as long as I can remember and I had been stupidly hopeful that maybe my dad would be back in my life by then and we’d have enough of a relationship for him to walk me down the aisle.  It just sucks to know he doesn’t care at all.”  Niall holds you close, kissing your head and rubbing your back until you pull away, now more calm and ready to continue with the seating arrangements.  “You ok?” he questions.  “Yeah, I’m fine.  I have my uncle to walk me down the aisle.  And he’s more of a dad to me than my real dad will ever be,” you confirm, prompting Niall to drop the conversation and plunge ahead in the planning with you.

LIAM:  Liam can’t contain his excitement as the music changes from the processional to the wedding march.  The groomsmen and brisdesmaids have joined him at the altar, and everyone in the church have turned to face the back doors where any second now you’ll appear and begin walking towards Liam.  After several beats, Liam’s heart jumps to his throat as he realizes those doors aren’t opening and you’re not coming.  People begin to fidgit uneasily, not sure of what’s going on.  Liam looks to his friends standing next to him, looking for an answer as to what’s going on, but they all just give him baffled looks.  Liam gives a forced and fake smile to everyone in front of him as he hastily beelines it down the aisle in search of you.  He finally tracks you down in the ladies room, locked in a stall and crying.  “What’s going on?” he asks gently, leaning against the outside of the stall door.  “I’m sorry, Liam, I’m so sorry,” you apologize through the tears and Liam instantly fears the worst.  “Are you…  Do you not wanna do this?” he brings himself to ask, despite feeling like he could throw up at any second.  At this you swing the door open and throw yourself into his arms.  “Of course I still want to do this!” you mumble into his chest.  You take a moment to collect yourself and swipe away the tears.  “I just really hate that my dad isn’t here to share in this day with us and walk me down the aisle,” you tell him sullenly.  “Oh, baby, he is here.  He’s always with you.  He sees you in this beautiful dress and is smiling at you.  And he’ll be standing next to you walking you down the aisle just like you want,” he assures sweetly, knowing that this whole wedding process has been hard on you without your dad there to share it with you.  You’d been close to him and are still affected by his death even all these years later.  You smile and nod, accepting this as truth and knowing in your heart that it is.  With that, you gather yourself together, clean yourself up, and get the show on the road.

HARRY:  You and Harry had only recently become engaged, but you and the female relatives on both sides have already been busily planning as much as you can.  You sit in your kitchen with your mom and sister and Harry’s mom and sister one afternoon, just throwing around various ideas and trying to narrow down some minor details.  Harry sits with your dad and brother and his stepdad in the den in the next room.  The four of them bond over watching a football game, but can’t help eavesdropping on some of the conversation going on in the next room.  Everything’s going well until your mom brings up your dad walking you down the aisle.  The family hadn’t dealt well with your dad’s accident, leaving him paralyzed from the waist down.  You’d always dreamed of your dad walking you down the aisle, but now that he’s in a wheelchair, it’s just not the same.  You feel yourself growing emotional over it, and excuse yourself to the bathroom for a moment.  Harry sees you walk by the doorway on your way to the bathroom and can tell something’s wrong.  He lightly raps on the door and asks if he can come in.  You oblige, opening the door for him to join you.  “What’s going on?” he asks, tucking some of your hair behind your ear.  “Things seemed to be going fine.  What’s got you so worked up all of a sudden?”  “It’s just not the same, you know?  My dad won’t actually be walking me down the aisle like I always wanted.”  Harry gives you a sympathetic look, running a hand through your hair.  “Maybe he won’t be walking you, but he’ll still be able to escort you, and that’s all that really matters.  He’ll still be there to give you away to me.  It shouldn’t matter that he won’t be physically walking as he does it,” he points out kindly.  “You’re right.  You’re absolutely right.  It’s still just hard to take in, you know?”  “I’m sure it is, but you have to look at this from a positive angle,” he reminds you, placing a soft kiss to your lips before the two of you collect yourselves and return to your respective perches in the house.

ZAYN:  “What’ve you got there?” Zayn asks, coming into the attic to find you crouched down by an old trunk, opened to reveal plenty of memorabilia.  “Just going through some old stuff,” you reply distractedly, reaching for an old baseball.  “I thought you came up here to find those toasting glasses your parents used at their wedding,” Zayn mentions, recognizing that the stuff in the trunk is not wedding related.  “I did.  And then I opened this trunk thinking it might be the one with their wedding stuff it in, but it’s not.  It’s full of a bunch of my dad’s old things,” you explain, replacing the baseball with a plaque.  Zayn steps closer, joining you in your crouched position, and peering into the chest.  “You really miss him, don’t you?” he asks after several beats pass.  You nod.  “Yeah, I do.  I just hate that I don’t remember anything about him.  All I know is what I’ve been told.  I was so young when he died…I just can’t remember any of it…” you say sadly.  Zayn rubs circles onto your back, not knowing what to say.  “And you know what really sucks?” you question, finally turning your gaze to Zayn.  “He won’t be there to walk me down the aisle or have that father-daughter dance with me.  Those are special moments that a girl is supposed to share with her dad, and I won’t get to do that.”  Your eyes fill with tears as it all starts to hit you.  You’d thought that having pictures of him with a memorial candle might be enough, but you’re quickly realizing you’d been tricking yourself into thinking that those small gestures would make up for his absence there.  “I know it must be really hard, and I know it won’t be the same, but you have several uncles and your grandfather that you’re close to that I’m sure would love to be part of your special day.  It’s just something to think about,” he suggests.  You nod, sniffling back your tears before they have a chance to fall.  “I don’t really want to think about this right now.  It’s too much for the moment.  Help me find those toasting glasses so we can get those sorted out?” you ask, wanting to push the thought from your mind for the time being.

LOUIS:  “Alright, who’s ready for a rehearsal?!” Louis chimes, coming into your kitchen to pick you up.  “What’s wrong?” he asks, his giddy tone changing as soon as he lays eyes on you sitting at the table, bouncing your leg frantically, and trying not to lose composure.  “That’s your ‘I’m-struggling-to-keep-it-together’ behavior…what happened?”  “I wanted a traditional wedding.  I wanted everything to be just-so and very elegant and perfect,” is all you say.  Louis creases his eyebrows in confusion.  “And that’s what we’ll have.  Everything is just as it should be,” he reminds you.  “No, it’s not.  Part of having a truly traditional wedding is having all those dad and daughter moments, like him giving you away and stuff,” you point out, feeling yourself losing more control as the seconds tick on.  Louis sighs.  “[Y/N], if this is bothering you so much then why didn’t you just ask him to come to the wedding and do those things with you?” he asks, careful of his tone so as not to send you over the edge.  “I can’t do that.  We had that huge falling out years ago and I haven’t spoken to him since.  I’m still so mad at him for it too.  I dunno…  This is all so confusing.  I guess as mad as I am at him, I still kinda want him there.  Deep down - really, really deep down - I still sorta want him there and want that really traditional ceremony and reception,” you tell him.  “Then why don’t you give him a call and ask him to do those things for you?” Louis recommends.  You shake your head back and forth, declining the suggestion.  “I can’t do that.  The wedding is tomorrow.  It’s too last minute to expect him to do all that for me.  It just wouldn’t work,” you refuse.  Louis raises a single eyebrow, knowing that you are just making all these excuses because you’re still too hurt to face him, even if it means having the wedding of your dreams.  You suck in a shaky breath, attempting to push all of these emotions as far back in your mind as possible.  “We should get going.  We don’t want to be late to the rehearsal,” you say flatly, grabbing your purse and heading straight for the door, Louis hot on your tail.