Without a Clue {Diall}

Chapter Forty-Eight: The Forever Boy

Chapter forty-eight word count: 8097 words

It's a bit terrifying once I realize Niall and I are ready to face the day, about to depart and be kept apart from each other until we're married this afternoon. Niall's tying his sneakers sitting on the edge of the bed, and I'm standing near the mirror by the door, trying to make myself as presentable as I can even though it's ridiculously early and I can't put any makeup on. I'm putting some earrings in when Niall comes up behind me. I watch from the mirror as he wraps his arms around my waist and tucks his chin against my shoulder.

"You look beautiful." He says. He's got a grin on his face that's simply contagious. I turn my face towards him, delighted with the fragile little kiss that he gives me moments later.

"You ready for this, babe?" Niall asks. I smile again and nod, turning around so I can give him a proper hug. I squeeze him tightly, knowing this will be my last bit of comfort from him on one of the most stressful days in anyone's life. He snickers a bit when I don't let him go many moments later, the hug extending into a grasp that I just really can't release.

"You sure you're ready?" Niall says, obviously trying to poke fun at me not letting him out of our hug.

"I'm sure. I think." I say, and Niall laughs at me, then lets out an Awh, love as he rocks me back and forth in his arms.

"No matter what, we're going to have a great honeymoon in Antarctica after this, don't forget." Niall says, making me laugh. God, if he takes me somewhere cold, I will kill him. I think he knows that, though, so I really am just guessing on which beach he'll be taking me to when it comes to guessing where my honeymoon is going to be.

"Alright, I'm ready." I say, finally releasing my tight grip on my almost-husband. He smiles, nodding and kissing me again. He turns towards the door, reaching for it, but I can see how he hesitates a bit. I'm not the only one who's nervous.

"Wait a second, Ni." I say, reaching out to grab his hand and pull him back to me, the door shutting again. I pull him close and cradle his face in my hands, bringing our foreheads to touch. Niall closes his eyes and relaxes at the action. I lean away from him a little bit, but continue resting my palms against his jawline.

"This is a pretty high-stress day. It's okay if you have more symptoms than normal. If you need me, send someone to come get me, yeah? There's no need to hurt yourself for a silly superstition." I say, eyebrows raised to see if Niall agrees. Events like this, high stress, big events can definitely make his PTSD flare up. That's not personal to just him, that's kind of just a general truth for the disorder.

"Alright. Promise." Niall says. I smile at him, nodding and leaning in to give him one last kiss before we depart.

...

I'm leaning over the sink, grasping each side as forcefully as I can and trying not to throw up. I'm getting married in less than three hours for God's sake; I can't be nauseous right now. It's not like I can just pause the ceremony to run to the bathroom to vomit. I think I'm just so fucking nervous and that, along with the very minimal sleep I got last night from being so anxious, has amplified my nausea ten-fold. It doesn't help that Niall and I've been kept apart for most of the day because of that stupid marriage tradition about not seeing the bride before the wedding. I'm still annoyed by that.

I think if I could just get a really, really good hug from Niall, maybe a nice pep talk about how I'm not going to fall on my face while everyone's looking at me, I think I'll be fine. It's not marrying Niall I'm nervous about. That's the one thing about today I'm completely confident will go smoothly. I might stumble on my vows or cry a little too much, but I know for certain by the end of the day, Niall and I will be married.