❝ my chemical romance, panic! at the disco, fall out boy and twentyonepilots imagines. ❞
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𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐘 𝐎𝐖𝐍, 𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒
𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐄.
𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃:...
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"Tell me what?"
(Y/B/F) and Patrick grimaced and averted their gaze away from you and Pete, focusing rather on whatever show was playing on the TV, while you sat still as your brain churned, trying to think of something to say.
"Pete...I..." you started, standing up.
Pete gave you an expectant look, waiting for you to continue.
"L..."
"L?" he urged, taking a step closer; Patrick and (Y/B/F)'s attention returned to you as they anxiously looked on in a mixture of shock and excitement – they thought that you were finally about to tell Pete how you felt about him.
"Literally can not stand my Maid of Honour dress."
Patrick and (Y/B/F) let out two loud groans of annoyance and shook their heads in disbelief while muttering a few complaints about your cowardness, stopping when Pete shot them a confused look.
"You don't like your dress?" Pete asked, and you nodded furiously.
"It's so horrible," you sighed, pulling your sleeves down to cover your trembling hands. "I didn't wanna say anything to Meagan, cause, ya know, she's so dead set on it, but to be perfectly honest, I'd rather die than be seen in public in that thing."
Pete let out a low whistle and rubbed the back of his next. "Well, I think she still has the original dress. I'll talk to her and see if you could wear that instead."
"Thanks," you smiled, grateful that your brain could at least come up with a believable diversion, but at the same time, full of dread at the thought of dealing with Meagan and the dress.
"Anything for you, (Y/N)," Pete returned your smile before directing his gaze toward Patrick and throwing a thumb over his shoulder at the door. "Dude, I need your help with something."
"Yeah, of course." Patrick got up and walked over to join Pete. The two of them said a quick goodbye and disappeared through the door.
You closed your eyes and let out a relieved sigh, your heart still racing from the close call you'd just experienced. Reaching behind you to massage the tense muscles in your neck briefly, you could hear (Y/B/F) tsk-tsking.
"I know, I know," you grumbled, rolling your eyes. "Should have told him."
~ Friday, 10:00, 24 hours until the wedding ~
"Okay, (Y/N), you can do this. It's a spa day; it'll be relaxing, and you'll be fine," you whispered to yourself as you rode the elevator down to the spa.
