butterfingers (l.s mpreg)

twenty, week 23

Contrary to popular belief, Louis Tomlinson was absolutely terrified of change and adulthood.

At 12, his nemesis, his mother, married a wealthy businessman by the name of Alexander, who wore his terribly gray hair in a messy combover that slipped onto his forehead when he grew sweaty (which was quite often.)

They were married in a run down church blocks away from his childhood home, where the Jesus figurine above the stained glass windows was wooden and seemed to move a tiny bit at each cheer for the new married couple. The windows were covered in haunting biblical images, even worse than any ordinary church. Though Alexander adored it, so "old fashioned." Louis begged to differ.

And Louis hated the man, boy did he hate him. It's not that he was mean, or that he failed to fill a fatherly role. He just irked him, he was so eerie to the preteen Louis. Then again, at that stage in Louis' life his only sources of joy were his vintage leather jacket and the second season of FRIENDS.

That actually carried on for quite a while, until Harry of course.

In addition, his first girlfriend was the extremely attractive Heather Henderson. And she was gorgeous, dark skin and a big pair of forest green eyes. Her hair fell in messy curls and sometimes was kept in tight braids. Her skin was flawless, and her body was curvy and well balanced. Quite honestly, anything a 16 year old high school student could ask for.

Unless, unfortunately, he happens to be unbearably gay and unable to react to Heather's many advances.

And so he was, and at every party she begged to pull him to the top floor of the abandoned house at 13 Richmond Street and bang his pretty blue eyed brains out. And creepy Jesus figurine bless her soul, drunk and flushed and Louis still couldn't bring himself to do it. He tried, he did, really, but he just couldn't do it.

And so she dumped him, she knew of course, but being the angel she had been she left it alone.

Louis was not so lucky with the next one.

Goddamned Ellie Price.

Her hair was pin straight and blond, a beady pair of brown eyes and a teeny tiny stature. For the stubbly 18 year old Louis, he could've done better. He knew it, too. It was okay.

Though he hates to think much of it, their relationship was a closeted gay's straight nightmare. She clung to him like a tick, eyeing his every move to be sure he didn't stray too far from her. It was suffocating to say the least, but relieved Louis, as he could leave and get high with his hot guy friends at 13 Richmond Street without her growing suspicious. It sounded messed up, he knew, but he was younger and dumber, little responsibility and he had a familiar disinterest in the idea of such a strangling commitment to one prissy little blondie at a time.

Though, it grew tiring very quickly, and as soon as he was unveiled as a "flaming homo" by his darling girlfriend Ellie during the fourth quarter of his senior year, he had given up on his weakening facade.

And so he moved on to college, and onto a new boy every weekend that he'd fuck until they grew to remind him of his beady eyed ex or his mothers hauntingly terrifying husband, or merely until they bored him.

The idea that he was ever that way drove him so damn crazy, looking at his boy now and wondering how he had flipped his switch.

And there wasn't a speck of Alexander or Ellie in Harry at all, not a morsel, not even a hypothetical, microscopic similarity. Harry was only Harry, and Ellie never looked at him like Harry did. She most definitely didn't dance circles around him in his kitchen, or kiss the little spot under his ear.

No one would ever light a fire like that, a harry kind of wildfire that spread in small touches and breakfasts in bed. No one could ever be Harry. This absolutely scorched Louis, how could he be scared to commit to someone that had grown to be apart of him? Foolish, he was sure of it.

He was glad to be his fool.

He grew sure of this on the evening of Niall's wedding, even more sure than he had been in the months prior.

It was so freaking creepy, that Louis can pinpoint the exact moment he met Katie and yet here she is, sauntering across the church (in the direction of the weird wooden Jesus, but he didn't seem so scary this time). He most definitely didn't scare Katie and Niall, who stared at each other so hard that Louis thought Niall's big blue eyes might burn right out. He didn't blame him, she looked beautiful.

The beautiful bride's dark Argentinian complexion perfectly contrasted with her simple white gown, and even the wooden Jesus swooned as she walked past. Her dress cascaded along with her veil, which pooled at her feet.

And for the first time since he was 12, Niall cried. His cheeks were scorned by burning tears and his short brown lashes were coated in salt. Fuck, he thought, she's right here, the rest of my life, she's right there. And she looks so damn good.

And Louis is beside him, a disheveled groomsman. He's terribly hungover from the night before and his eyes are sunken in. The bachelor party kicked him on his ass, but of course his Harry nursed him back to health for the long day ahead of them.

"I'm a loser." Niall begins his vows, the ones Louis had helped him write the previous night. It helped to have a successful writer friend prior to your wedding day. His introduction earns a chuckle from the tiny audience.

Niall's poor mom is crying buckets, and Harry is smiling so wide beside all of Katie's girlfriends that his rosy cheeks begin to ache.

"I spent most of high school cracking jokes and falling asleep in Mr. Norris' homeroom until he woke me up for second period. That poor guy knew I was a loser too, and I think he felt too bad to tell me." Niall sighs, a smile adorning his lips.

"And I spent most of college dragging Louis around every night, bar hopping and passing out in the diner just outside of campus. I scraped through culinary school and forced my way into a decent job. And funnily enough, I met you." Niall's tears are back.

"And you were a loser too." Everyone is crying.

"The best loser ever. Like, the kind of loser that you wanna be. The cool kind." This is where Niall's writing skills came in.

"And you were so put together," he smiled at wooden Jesus, "your hair and your smile and your words."

"And for the first time, I love being your loser. I loved spending night losering around town with you and long trips with you and cooking for you." He coughs.

"And so now I'm your loser husband. And we can loser all the way through mortgages and fights and children and we can loser until we're eighty for all I care." He pipes up, and everyone is so happy for a second.

"And so you're stuck with me, I guess," he chuckles, tucking his wrinkled gown napkin into the breast pocket of his suit. And he leans into her.

And they kiss and it's happy and good. The happy screams from the crowd make Louis' head ache miserably and Katie is sobbing, her wet tears running all over Niall's cheeks. He doesn't mind. The small crowd of people are cheering, sitting peacefully in the church pews. Wooden Jesus watches, and he smiles at the scene in front of him. He's a loser too.

The night goes on gleefully, and they've made their way to the after party.

Harry keeps his eyes on Niall and Katie, but Louis stares at his Harry. Fuck, he thinks, he's right here, the rest of my life, he's right here. And he looks so damn good.

A/N: HEY!!!!!!! Im breaking Niall's wedding into two parts bc it's happy and I like it lol hope u do too!!