Las Vegas buzzed like a live wire, neon lights painting everything in reckless color. Even at 3 AM, the streets didn’t sleep. The air was thick with smoke, perfume, and the sticky scent of spilled booze. Music thumped from open doors, laughter echoed off the pavement, and everything felt louder, wilder, freer.

We were gods in this city tonight—young, famous, untouchable. Four years of One Direction, and the world still hadn’t stopped screaming our names. Tour after tour, cameras in our faces, expectations heavy on our backs—but through it all, you stayed the same.

The only girl in the band. My anchor. My best friend. You never let the fame touch how you saw me. I was just Harry to you. Just me.

The boys never let me live it down.

“You’re in love, obviously,” Louis would grin, nudging my side.

“It’s written all over your face, bruv,” Zayn would smirk.

“Just get on with it already,” Niall and Liam would laugh.

But I always shut it down. When I was sober, I convinced myself it wasn’t real. That it was just comfort, just friendship. Just me being overprotective.

But drunk? Yeah, drunk me didn’t lie to himself.

And right now, I was drunk out of my mind.

That’s when I saw it—a tiny, run-down wedding chapel squashed between a pawn shop and a dodgy strip club. The sign buzzed in half-lit letters: FREE WEDDINGS—NO CONTRACTS, JUST LOVE. One Night Only.

It was ridiculous. Stupid. Perfect.

I stopped walking, turned to you, and the words came before I could think twice.

“Marry me.”

Wait. What?

Nah, fuck it.

Maybe it was madness. Maybe it was genius. But right then, in the middle of Vegas and everything it stood for, it felt like the only thing that made sense.