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Note: I'm back 😪😊. Thank you all for being so patient. And as promised, there will be 8 updates over the next 24 hours ✨.

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~Wednesday, 02:00, 80 hours until the wedding~

The scratching of pen on paper echoed throughout the otherwise silent hotel room. 12 hours had gone by since Meagan dumped the task of hand-writing everything on you, during which you'd only managed to get just more than three quarters of the place cards done, let alone the menus and seating chart. Surrounded by empty vodka bottles, random bits of paper here and there, numerous jars of ink and clutching onto the calligraphy pen as if it were the only thing preventing you from descending into madness, you must've looked completely pathetic, and on the brink of insanity.

Your tired eyes began to droop, begging you to give in to the sweet temptation of sleep. Ignoring your exhausted body's cries of agony, you forced your hand to continue its movements, blinking rapidly whenever your pupils strayed out of focus.

Brendon's place card was the last thing you saw before you passed out.

~Wednesday, 14:00, 68 hours until the wedding~

"Y/N!"

You woke up with a start, knocking one of the previous night's vodka bottles to the floor in the process. Dazed and confused, you rubbed your eyes before forcing them open, the blurry silhouettes of Patrick and (Y/B/F) coming into focus. Bringing one hand up to your forehead, you tilted your head back and let out a groan.

"How much did I have to drink?" you spoke slowly and carefully, massaging your aching scalp. You had a pounding headache and felt as if your head might split open.

"Meh, only, like, 4 bottles," Patrick answered nonchalantly, handing you a couple of aspirins and a glass of water.

"And how long was I asleep for?" you questioned hesitantly, graciously accepting the pills.

"Oh, only 12 hours," (Y/B/F) shrugged.

You nearly choked on the water.

"What the fu-... 12 HOURS?! And neither of you thought it would be a good idea to wake me up?!" you spoke in a panic, standing up so quickly that you stumbled a bit before you could find your footing.

The two shared a look of mild amusement.

"I'm glad you two find this so funny," you glared at them.

"Relax, (Y/N/N)," said Patrick, "We still have 3 hours before the rehearsal starts."

"Yeah, and I'm nowhere near done with these fucking cards!" You kicked at a pillow in frustration. "Meagan is gonna have a bitch-fit."

"Cards?" Patrick and (Y/B/F) questioned, perplexed.

"What, did you think I was staying up until early hours of the morning writing in calligraphy just for fun? No, Meagan decided she wanted me to hand-write every single one of the place cards, the menus, and the seating chart."

"Oh." Patrick grimaced.

"Shit," (Y/B/F) whispered.

"Yes, shit, indeed." You sat back down at the table with a grunt. "Now, since you guys have proved to be no help to me whatsoever, I'm gonna try and finish what I can before the rehearsal. Oh, and just by the way," you turned in your chair to face your friends, pointing an accusatory finger between the two of them, "I hate you both."

~Wednesday, 17:37, 64 hours and 23 minutes until the wedding~

"Where the actual fuck is (Y/N)?" Meagan screeched, throwing her veil on the ground in frustration.

"Babe, relax. I'm sure she'll be here soon," Pete cooed from his seat on the altar steps.

"Why is she trying to ruin our wedding, baby?" Meagan whined while pouting at Pete. Patrick rolled his eyes at her annoying antics, wondering how the hell his best friend ended up with her. "I bet it's because she's jealous," Meagan continued, "She's always been jealous of our relations-"

"Or she just got caught up with all those place cards you ordered her to write out," Patrick interrupted her, sick to death of her unnecessary attacks on you.

"You ordered her to do what?" Pete questioned angrily, raising both eyebrows at his fiancée.

"I-I just thought that it would be, you know, more au-authentic and personal if everything was handwritten," Meagan stuttered, her cheeks now a crimson red; she obviously hadn't expected Pete to have the reaction that he did.

"So you made (Y/N) write them all out by herself?"

"She does really pretty calligraphy."

"And you couldn't have asked her to do it a few weeks ago? This week was supposed to be a chance to unwind a little and for everyone to hang out for a bit before Saturday. Not a time to spring everything onto the Maid of Honor at the last minute," Pete said in disbelief, appalled at Meagan's actions.

Meagan didn't like the fact that Pete was defending you, and her face and body language showed it. Eyebrows furrowed together in fury and hands balled up into tight fists at her sides, she opened her mouth to speak once more, but was cut off when the doors swung open and you ran in, panting heavily and with blotches of ink all over your hands and face.

Hunched over with hands on your knees, you tried to catch your breath. "Sorry I'm... late. Was busy... place cards... Lost track of time," you panted.

"No worries, my dear! Weddings are a very stressful ordeal! Now, assuming we're all here..." the overly cheerful minister clasped his hands together and did a quick survey of the room, "Ah, excellent! Let's begin."

Meagan stared daggers at you from across the room while Patrick placed a reassuring hand on the small of your back.

"What's she mad at me for? She's the one who gave me the stupid job in the first place."

"You can't explain crazy, (Y/N/N.)"

~Wednesday, 19:00, 63 hours until the wedding~

If looks could kill, Meagan would've murdered you a dozen times in the rehearsal alone. There was also the fact that she'd keep on mentioning how the entire evening was behind schedule because you hadn't shown up on time. It was the longest 45 minutes of your life, but you made it through. With the help of Patrick, of course.

Swaying gently to the music, you rested your head on Patrick's shoulder and sighed.

"I wish I could run away for the next four days. Or time-skip until after the wedding," you sighed.

"You and me both."

"Believe me, no one wants this to be over more than I do."

"Hey," Patrick pulled away a little so that you were forced to look at him. "How come you're acting so weird about this wedding? I mean, I get that you're Maid of Honor, and Meagan is going out of her way to make this as stressful as possible, but it seems like more than just stress. What's really going on?" Patrick's blue eyes pierced through your (e/c) ones and he seemed to stare straight into your soul. For a moment, you felt compelled to open up to him.

But you didn't get the chance to.

"Yo, dude," Pete placed a hand on Patrick's shoulder. "Do you mind?" he nudged his head towards you.

"All yours," Patrick gestured towards you with a smile, which Pete returned.

Gripping your one hand tightly while guiding your other one to his shoulder, Pete started dancing with you. A million butterflies fluttered in your stomach.

"I feel like we haven't spoken in forever," he said with a sad smile.

"That's cause we haven't," you shrugged, "You've been doing Groom stuff and I've been, well, getting covered in ink," you chuckled.

Pete's face turned serious. "That's actually the other reason I came over here. I wanted to apologise for Meagan and her unrealistic expectations for you. I mean, how can she expect you to do all of that writing by yourself? That's borderline slavery. If she has anymore near-impossible requests, let me know. "

"It's okay, Pete. I'm the Maid of Honor; it's my job to make near-impossible things possible. Besides... If it'll make your wedding that much more special, I don't mind. Really. I just want you to be the happiest you can be." Your voice broke a little at the end of your last sentence, and you prayed that Pete didn't notice. If he did, he didn't show it.

"You're fucking incredible, you know that?"

"So I've been told," you flipped your hair dramatically, causing both of you to chuckle.

You stopped swaying and Pete planted a peck on your cheek before whispering "Thank you, (Y/N)." in your ear.

You tried as best you could to supress the pink color threatening to creep onto your cheeks, smiling at Pete before he walked away, staring at him for a little longer than would be appropriate.

Patrick approached you again, looking like he'd just had an epiphany.

"So that's why you're so on edge... I can't believe I didn't notice it before," Patrick shook his head as if scolding himself for being so oblivious, running a hand through his light hair.

You stared at him in confusion.

"You're in love with Pete."

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Thank you for reading x