Declan was right there in dress pants, and the rest of him swallowed up by a faded NYU sweatshirt I recognized as mine, his hazel gaze focused on the middle distance, and for a moment I had time to stare at him. He was everything to me, my best friend, the man I’d once refused to admit I loved, and I was lost as to how to fix things now.
How do I fix things now?
He sighed noisily, took another swig of champagne, and as he did, he finally noticed me. His eyes widened, and he snorted the champagne in shock, coughing and spluttering and, then, placing the bottle on the floor, watching as if he were waiting for it to fall over. After a moment of staring at that, then back up at me, he slid the headphones from his ears, the familiar refrain of his favorite Imagine Dragons song echoing in the quiet room before he pressed the pause button on his phone. His wavy blond hair was swept back and held down with some kind of product. I decided, there and then, I didn’t like it, because I had very strong opinions on how beautiful his soft hair was, which had become a bone of contention in college. Back then, he got pissed at me for ragging on at him about his perfect cutesy hair-flicks, but right now, he didn’t seem pleased to see me; in fact, he was horrified.
“Patrick?” He sounded as if he didn’t believe it was me.
“I’m here,” I blurted.
“You look like shit,” he slurred, and then hiccupped.
“I came straight here.”
“From Charleston?”
“Yeah, via New York, and god knows where else. It’s why I’m late.”
“Go’way. You’re too late.”
“You’re married?”
He stared up at me, or at least in my approximate direction, and then down at his hand, waggling it. There was no ring, and he was drunk, and there was no wedding I could see, so he wasn’t married, right?
“Oh yeah, vows, and shit, and pigeons. Doves. Whatever.”
Sarcasm dripped in the slurred words. Maybe I wasn’t too late to rescue him?
“Why are you drunk?”
“S’wedding! S’peoples s’get drunks,” he exclaimed as he waved the bottle, the weight of it dragging his hand down, and took another swig, then laughed like an idiot.
“Where’s Lennox?”
“Pro’ly fucking Cody again.”
“What? Cody who?”
“Best man.”
“He’s fucking his best man?”
“Least he had a besht—best man…” Declan swigged more champagne, most of it running down his shirt, and then he dipped his head and tried to wipe at the spill, and my heart ached. “Mine didn’t want to be here.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just… I’m a coward. I couldn’t be there, I couldn’t face it if—”
“Fuck. I wanna sleep,” he mumbled. “Make it all go away…”
He tried to stand then, the bottle in one arm, what I assumed was his keycard in the other, and he stumbled over his own feet, and the only thing that stopped him from hitting the ground was me catching him.
“Fuck off,” he managed and shoved me away, the momentum of it pushing him in the wrong direction, and he ended up sitting back on the seat as it wobbled. I was next to him before he tumbled to the floor, and this time he didn’t argue. “Why did you…” He stopped as I helped him stand, and he slumped into my hold.
“Why what?” I eased the champagne away from him and left it on the seat.
“S’mine,” he whined, but I guided him away from it, and the chair, and took the keycard for safekeeping after he dropped it, and then, holding him up, I headed to the door of the decorated room that smelled of roses. As we got closer, it opened and a young woman peered inside, her eyes widening at me heading towards her, Declan slumped at my side. I slid to a halt and held up a hand in apology.
"Sorry," I attempted to pass her, and she took the same step to the right, I went left, she went left, and both of us gave up with the polite dance after that.
“Can I help you with… something, sir?” she asked and held the door open for me, moving to one side so I could go through. Where did I even start with that question? She eyed me carefully, and I wondered if she saw the immense weight I carried—full of regrets and sadness.
“I need to find out where my friend’s room is. The card doesn’t have a number.”
She glanced at us both and took a few uncertain steps back. “I’ll get the manager.”
I wanted to roll my eyes at that—we didn’t need a manager, we needed a bed, or rather Declan needed a bed—but I knew she was only looking out for Declan, and I had to respect that, after all she didn’t know me at all. Declan chose that moment to stagger away from me, then slid down the wall to the floor, nearly taking me with him as I tried to grab him.
“Jeez, Declan, what happened?”
He reached up for me, or at least he reached up for something he couldn’t quite focus on. “You broke it,” he exclaimed, and jabbed a finger in my general direction.
“Broke what?”
“Me!”
“What?”
He groaned, then, and scrubbed at his eyes. I took one of his hands, but he yanked it away and examined it as if his fingers were foreign to him.
“Good evening, sir.”
I glanced up from my crouch, and my eyes zeroed in on the man's identity badge, which proclaimed him as Bryan, Manager.
“Hi, uhm. Hi.” How did I explain this to him? Particularly, when I had no idea what had even happened. He didn’t seem fazed that Declan was half lying on me and half against the wall, his eyes shut and his breathing even as if he’d fallen asleep. It seemed important that he knew that I wasn’t some random stranger trying to kidnap a guest. “I’m a wedding guest. I mean I was invited,” I blurted, and he stared at me, and I knew I wasn’t making a lot of sense. “Let me get it.” I released Declan’s hand, and he slid sideways before I could grab him again, all while awkwardly tugging out my invitation and passing it to him.
“Patrick Holmes,” he read out loud after a moment, and then regarded me thoughtfully. “The wedding has been canceled."
“You don’t say,” I snarked, “Sorry, shit, please ignore me.” Then with as much patience as I could spare given Dec was slapping at my hand—and that was the only thing holding him up. “I found Dec, I mean one of the grooms—just the one—and he’s drunk, and I don’t understand what the fu—the hell is going on, but I need to get him to his room.”
Bryan went to a crouch, then, and eased himself under Declan’s arm, and between us we helped a dozy and disoriented Declan to stand upright. Bearing his weight, Bryan glanced up and down the corridor. “Let’s take him the back way,” he announced after some thought.
Between us, we got Declan through a security door, which led into a dark corridor, and then to an elevator marked Goods. “I can take it from here, sir. Penny will accompany you to reception.”
“I’m not leaving him,” I could be as stubborn as anyone, and this was Dec, and I’d promised I’d always be there for him.
Until I hadn’t been and lost the last chance I had to be with him.