#miniminter ff

WEDDINGS WERE THINGS THAT the majority of the Sidemen never got to go to. Their work schedules were just too demanding, you see, and finding the time for weddings, or festivals, or even funerals was hard.

Like lightning, they were hit by a stroke of luck. Not only did just one of the Sidemen find a time slot for the wedding, but all seven did. The reason for this was it wasn’t just anyone getting married…it was Josh.

That’s right: after six years in total of being together, Freya and Josh were finally bonding themselves together…legally, anyway. There was no way any of them would ever miss a moment as phenomenal as this.

The wedding was set on the date of their anniversary, which approached quicker than presumed. You, a close friend of Freya, and Simon, your boyfriend and exceptionally close friend to Josh, were running just a tad late, thanks to the unGodly amount of time you spent wounding long locks of hair around curlers that took an era to heat up.

As aforementioned, your freshly-washed locks were shiny, smoothed and curled into loose ringlets, with a face painted articulately in make-up. A dark beige waistcoat was wrapped over your white blouse, tucked into an incomprehensibly fluffy, layered skirt that almost protruded as a ninety-degree angle. It was white, just like your shirt, but patterned with lilac flowers over the design. On your feet were three-inched white heels, and a fake leather black belt curved around your princess-like waist. In fact, in Simon’s eyes, your wistful glances, willowy appearance and compassionate smiled, accompanied by this fantastically adorable getup, made you emit an engrossingly peculiar, silvery aura, leaving the room strangely airless.

Your boyfriend, however, wore a standard tuxedo that pretty much every man, boy or masculine-identifying person was clad in: pitch black, straight-legged trousers, matching jackets and those weird shoes they always seemed to wear. Those pointy ones. You get it, right? He decided to wear a tie, coloured lilac (a wildly inappropriate choice considering his contrastingly black tux) to compliment the patterns on your skirt. His dirty blonde hair was slicked into a quiff as per usual, and he wore his signature crooked smile that made your heart skip a beat with every quick glance at it.

Your own petite hand cupped his as he led you out of the Uber, witnessing the broad, soldier-like Church standing before you. It was coloured a mahogany brown, with strong, wooden walls and a Christian’s cross on the front of the door. While neither Josh nor Freya were religious, they decided to have their wedding in a Church nevertheless. Just for the appeal, you know? The grass was freshly cut, its unique aroma overwhelming the senses, as you resisted the urge to pluck a cluster of the numerous daisies growing abundantly in the field. Your inner child squeaked.

As the gentle breeze raked your skirt against smooth legs, Simon led you by the hand to the double-doors of the Church. He almost succumbed to the awkward, anxious knot residing in his stomach, but when he opened them to reveal a half-full constellation of benches, he sighed from relief. You weren’t as late as assumed.

Tobi stood, in a black tuxedo almost exactly the same as Simon’s (except with a classy bowtie), at the very top end of the alter. He was shoved off to the right – Josh’s side – with his hands clamped together. A grin danced on his lips, confident and suave, and in that moment you realised nobody would be more fitting for the position as best man, than Tobi.

Ethan, dressed in a white tux (a change!), was nattering on to Vik, clad in another black tux, and then suddenly erupted into an erratic fit of laughter; a laugh so unique you could identify it as Ethan from a mile away. From the corner of his eye, Vik noticed Simon and yourself, and gave a nervous wave, to which you whole-heartedly returned.

JJ was seen fiddling with his cuff links (though judging by his frustrated expression, he was struggling with it, rather than fiddling). However, Harry quickly approached and began to help him, tapping the heel of his shoe against the tiled ground. Tap tap tap!

You grinned broadly as an influx of people you assumed were Josh’s and Freya’s family arrived. One half of you was overwhelmed by the amount of sophistication withheld in this wedding: everyone was anxious, cheerful and excited, and you assumed Josh and Freya felt exactly the same. The second half of you felt envious. If only one day someone could love you with so much compassion that they’d want to commit themselves to the rest of their life with you. You eyes drifted to your boyfriend of four years, but the blood rushed to your cheeks.

The two of you sat down on the front row, squished into the corner of the bench as the rest of the Sidemen, minus Tobi (who was acting as best man at the alter), huddled on. Every guest ended up arriving and seating themselves, and then Josh walked in.

He wore a traditional black tuxedo with a matching tie and white stitching. His large hand was tugging the buttons together, as he smiled anxiously beneath his freshly trimmed beard. His trousers were charcoal-coloured, straight legged and matched with the same pointy shoes that most men seemed to wear. A red rose was peering out from the pocket of his blazer as he approached the Vicar and Tobi, who offered him a compassionate pat on the back. His eyes welled with pride.

Everyone’s skeletons jumped from their skin as someone began to play soothingly on an organ. As if on cue, the domineering double doors opened to reveal Freya, with her arm tucked around her Father’s. She looked stunning. Her  blonde locks were tied neatly into a bun hoisted with a diamond-encrusted band. Her makeup was done lightly, and her dress tickled the ground: it was a pure white, cut across her chest and elasticated in the middle, with a bouquet of red roses tucked between her hands.

Her father kissed her cheek, released her and she cautiously approached Josh, who’s smile was broadening as every second passed. As soon as she began to hold a free hand with Josh, the Vicar began the ceremony.

His words dragged, and elongated, but your ears pricked when you heard the words “I do”, and then suddenly, “you may kiss the bride.”

That’s exactly what Josh did. With brute force he tucked Freya’s waist and pulled her to him, immediately locking lips with such impurity that you wouldn’t want to think of what sort of things they’d be getting up to later tonight.

The crowd erupted into claps, cheers and laughter as Josh scooped her into a bridal carry, and whisked her away through the double doors. An influx of guests chased after them in a hot pursuit.

A few hours of sweaty dancing, chaste kisses and romantic experiences came and went in the blink of an eye. Before you knew it, you and Simon were stumbling through your hotel door, attached at the lips with his hands tightly tucked around your waist.

It was as if you'd been locked in your room for hours upon end, and, it probably wasn't wrong. You and your friend had got into a heated argument just a few days ago and the aftermath is greatly affecting you.

With red, glazed eyes and an empty heart, you limply toppled back onto your mattress, which you wished would just swallow you up so you wouldn't have to bear this embarrassment. Crimson-faced, you sobbed, muffled, into your pillow as you felt it become damp against your soft skin.

You sniffled when you heard the sound of the downstairs door opening. Alerted, you shot upright and wiped away your tears as fast as you could; unbeknownst you, that certainly wouldn't rid the redness from your eyes.

The door burst open, revealing to you a somewhat concerned Simon. His expression was distorted into one of extreme fear and distress, with eyebrows knitted together and forehead wrinkling, a clear frown embedded on his face, "these walls aren't as thick as you think, y'know."

At that, you began to bawl once more. There was no point in hiding it anymore, after all, he already knew--it must be such a burden to throw your problems at him. Then again, it might help you, to confide in someone, especially somebody as amazing as your boyfriend.

He gave an upset sigh, clambering over to your side and clutching you tightly against his chest. Chin on your head, he allowed you to sob into his shirt which, unsurprisingly, already had a wet patch; though he obviously didn't care. Hand stroking your back, he entangled his fingers through your locks and shushed you therapeutically.

"It's okay babygirl, it's okay," he reassured, while you miserably attempted to stifle your sniffles. He knew what this was all about, even if you didn't have to directly tell him. Over the past couple of days he saw, based on your mannerisms, that your energy had depleted and you just didn't seem the same. Your eyes always seemed to be red and, at first he expected the worst, but then realised you were crying over a friend.

He thought that was pretty fucked up. True friends are meant to be there for one-another through thick and thin; of course friends go through arguments from time to time, but everyone does. After all, he and you did all the time, but you never gave up on each-other, not once. A part of him was all riled up, wanting to approach your friend and give her a stern "talking to", but he knew, inside, it was best to comfort you, for now.

"I'm s--so stupid, Simon," he gasped, as if she'd been holding her breath all this time. His frown only broadened, huffing slightly at the internal resentment he now held for your friend. "You're not, babe," he hushed, promptly pecking your forehead.

Before you could retort, he continued, "if she doesn't respect the way you feel then there's no point in bothering with her. Let her feel angry and guilty, and get on with your life, because one day she's gonna realise she needs you, but you'll understand your worth by then. It's my job to make you feel like a goddess, so whenever you feel sad, please tell me. I'll provide as much as I can."

In response, you gave bewildered, stuttering thank yous, and I love yous. This time, your face was red and flustered for an entirely different reason: your heart swelled as you tightened you grip around him. He simply did the same as you fell back together into the bed, taking in one another's scents, and sound of your breathing, and presence in general.