Mint [H.S.]

26

Cause I've drowned in you, And I won't pull through, Without you by my side. 

My All - Mariah Carey 

HARRY

There have only ever been two times in my life that I can recall, where I've attended a wedding. The first time was when I was ten and my mother decided it was best to finally marry her prick of a boyfriend. I could remember that wedding like it was yesterday - even though I tried as best as I could to push aside any memory of it.

Regardless of how much I fucking hated Mark (and let's be frank, those feelings have never left...), I was happy to see my beautiful mum happy. She looked gorgeous in her simple white gown. It was sophisticated. I don't know much about dresses or what kind of "line" it was... all I knew was that I never saw a princess before until that day.

The next wedding I was fourteen. It was the granddaughter of some business partner Mark used to work for, and for some unknown reason, her and her family had taken a liking to him. Ben didn't care as much. He was seventeen, still living at home, and had no other choice. But then there was me, in all of my rebellion, I fought long and hard to skip this wedding out. I didn't see the point of attending a celebration of some union between two people I didn't know, nor did I care about. They weren't important to me, so why should I attend their wedding?

I still had to go. I ate Ben's cake. He still has no fucking clue.

Ten years later, I'm forced to go to yet another wedding, but this time it's my brothers. It was mind boggling to think that he was getting married... and I'm the best man. When did all of this shit start happening to me?

Ben was a nervous wreck. I didn't expect him to be anything but. He was pacing back and forth in the room we had been assigned to get ready. The wedding planner that Jaz's mum had hired was talking to the photographer - instructing him on all the bits and bobs that needed to be photographed before the ceremony commenced.

I took the flask I had managed to keep in the inside pocket of my suit jacket, and took a swig from the aged whiskey. The burn of the alcohol relaxed my tense muscles and anxious thoughts. I could feel the cold stare of a certain blue eye prick burn through my back, but I ignored it. I knew that this day was important to Benton, and as much as I would have loved to do something to muck it all up, I figured it was best not to. Isabella's warning a few hours before may have also had a bit to do with it...

"Ten more minutes boys," the wedding planner shouted, clapping her hands together. The clicking sound of her heels disappearing as the door closes.

Ben took a long, deep breath from his nose, releasing it slowly. I could feel his nerves from where I stood. It was beginning to make me nervous and I wasn't even the one getting hitched. The photographer is telling him something and he nods, but it's clear that he isn't really listening. The nervous twitch of his leg giving away his cover.

Once he's alone, I walk over to him. He looks up, a frantic look written all over his face. I don't say anything, but instead pass him my extra flash; his wedding flask. He gives it a weary look, "Might not be the best thing to do. Feel like I'm going to puke, if m'being honest."

I don't take no for answer. I was never one to do so. I push the flask against his arm, "Its yours. Bourbon."

Ben reaches for the flask. His hands still shaking like there was a fucking earthquake going on. Hesitating, he opens the flask and stares at it, "It's not going anywhere, mate. Just drink the damn thing. It'll settle the nerves a bit."

Without saying much else, Ben takes a swig from it. His face contours into the most ridiculous expression. I chuckle while he shakes his head, turning the lid shut.