"Aw, baby you were so cute!"
She licked her lips, bringing her champagne flute up to her mouth, suffering in a painfully loud silence as they went through an old photo album. Her heart broke a little every time his mother would look at her with a sparkle in her eyes.
Y/n was Harry's best friend. It had been the case since they were little. They grew up together, she was here through everything, when he auditioned, when he was put with the other boys, when they became a teen sensation, tour, press, talk shows, you name it, she would drop her entire life for him if he needed her.
So she wondered, how did she manage to fall for him, and how is it that he was two weeks away from marrying someone that wasn't her?
Y/n wishes she could hate her. But she couldn't. There was no reason. She actually really liked her. She was sweet and she made Harry happy, and that was all that mattered to y/n. That he be happy.
She would've braced herself for impact, if it wasn't for how smooth Harry managed to make the ride. He quite literally blinded her with just how incredible he was. She didn't see it coming but she should have. Because maybe then she wouldn't be so bitter with the taste of expensive liquor on her tongue.
"Remember that love?" Her thoughts were cut short by his enticing voice filling her ears. All three pair of eyes were watching her.
Y/n cleared her throat, unable to think of words to respond to her best friend. "I uh- need more champagne." She was on her feet faster than she had ever been, making a beeline for the kitchen.
To the future bride and the groom's mother, her abruptness had gone unnoticed. However the groom himself had known the woman her entire life, he knew her better than he knew himself.
So his hand settled on his fiancé's back, excusing himself to go after her.
His eyebrows raised at the sight of the brunette chugging a flute of champagne like it was water. He took long strides to reach her, ripping the piece of glass from her hand once she was done.
"The day I turned twenty one, you forced a beer to my hand and now you're acting like i'm an alcoholic. Make up your mind Styles." She wiped the corner of her mouth, shooting him a playful glare.
He wasn't having it.
He remained silent, handing her a glass of water which she took from him, knowing not to argue with him.
"What's going on?" He knew something was off. He wasn't going to beat around the bush. She was no stranger to alcohol but she didn't drink, not like this.
"What are you talking about? I'm f—",
"Please don't act like I haven't known you my entire life. What is it you're trying to drink away?" The blank expression that took over her face was priceless.
Sometimes she hated how well he knew her.
"I'm tired." "Bullshit." "I am." "Yeah maybe you are, but that's not it." "Harry." "Y/n."
Those were warnings. Don't push me.
"I don't want to talk about it okay? I'm not ready." His expression softened, eyebrows furrowing in concern.
