Stay | Arctic Monkeys Fanfiction

Twenty Four- Do Me A Favour

I stayed up late that night, my thoughts twisted with the events that had unfolded.  So late, in fact, that when Lukas shook me into consciousness the next morning, I could barely open my eyes.

"You'll never fucking believe who's at the front door," he said to me in a hushed voice.  

"I invited her," I grumbled, sitting up and attempting to rub the sleep out of my stinging eyes. 

Lukas just stared at me.  "You what?"

"I told her I wanted to help with the wedding," I said.  I ignored his complete shell-shocked expression and got out of bed.  I quickly threw on some jeans and a sweatshirt, pulling my hair up quickly as I made my way to the bathroom.  I washed my face and brushed my teeth quickly before rushing out to the living room.

Estella was waiting in the open doorway, looking as perfect as ever.  She looked effortlessly beautiful, wearing a vintage dress and kitten heels.  She looked like something straight out of 1940's Paris, and my shoulders instantly deflated.  It seemed to hit me more and more every time I saw her that I could never compete.  

"Sorry to barge in on you," she said as I approached.  "I was just at my dress fitting and was on my way through, and thought it would be easier for you if we carpool.  Unless you wanted to drive separate-"

"It's fine," I said quickly.  "I just woke up, is all."

"I figured," she laughed.  "Alex told me you were pretty hammered when he drove you home last night."

"I mean, I wasn't that hammered but-"

"Don't be embarrassed," she said.  "We all get drunk sometimes."

She smiled at me then and I wanted so badly to like her.  But how could I when she was marrying the person I'd been in love with since I was fifteen?

"You ready to go?" she asked me. 

"Ready as I'll ever be."

• • • • 

Their hotel room was even nicer inside than I'd expected.  It was practically an apartment, furnished with a kitchen and a living room.  As we walked inside, I couldn't help but notice the signs of Alex all over the place.  

His leather jacket was thrown over the back of a chair, his guitar was resting up against the couch.  There was a notepad completely covered in his scratchy handwriting on the kitchen table that Estella quickly tossed aside to replace with a box of wedding programs.

"I just go these printed yesterday," she said, handing one to me.  "But I want to put a handwritten 'Thank you' at the bottom of each one.  Should we start with that?"

"Sure," I said, looking it over.  I had to stifle a laugh, because this wedding was already so incredibly over the top and I'm sure Alex was hating every moment of it.

We each took a seat and started writing on all of the programs (which was completely fucking pointless, if you ask me).  She took a short break to put a record on (of course she owned a fucking record player and brought it with her to Sheffield).  It was some song from the 50's that sounded like all the rest and I was tempted to ask her if she had any Strokes records laying around.

"So you and Alex have known each other since school?" Estella asked me as we worked away.

"Since we were eight," I said.  "Haven't been able to get rid of him since."