Lukas Podolski

Huffing, you sat down at the altar, drawing your knees up to your chest. Your grip on your bouquet lessened, causing the floral arrangement to drop to your feet. You couldn't believe it. Stood up, on your wedding day, by the man that you thought you loved. Well, you were wrong and now you were paying for your mistake.

Your bridesmaids crowded around you, trying to comfort you but their words of comfort did little to help you. Your ex-fiancé's family stood awkwardly, excusing themselves after they apologized to your parents and your family. Your bridesmaids dissipated and your mother walked towards you, sitting next to you. She took your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"It'll be okay, sweetie," she sighed, rubbing your back. "Do you need anything?"

"No," you replied. "Why don't you and everyone else go and eat at the venue. It'd be stupid to let all of that food go to waste."

"But, it's your wedding, you should come with us."

"I'll meet you there, I just need a few minutes by myself. Go, I'll be fine. I wasted your money by getting married, or at least trying to get married. So, go enjoy the food that you bought for me," you told your mother, giving her a small smile.

"His family offered to pay for everything. They were so embarrassed."

"Can't imagine why," you said sarcastically, causing your mother to crack a smile. "Go, before the food gets cold." Your mother nodded and started dragging people out of the church and towards the awaiting cars and limos. You watched everyone leave, each of them shooting you pitied looks. You didn't want their pity, you didn't want their sympathy. You didn't even want your ex-fiancé to change his mind. He could go to hell for all you cared.

Having no real intention of going to the venue to eat, you stood up and started tearing down decorations. The ceremony was supposed to have taken place in a small church in rural Germany. The priest had retired to his quarters adjacent to the church and the choir members had long left. You were all alone, absolutely alone. In a fit of rage, you threw down your bouquet and stomped on it.

"I'm not too late am I?" a familiar voice said from behind you. Turning around, you smiled and ran towards the familiar man in a tux.

"Lukas! You came!" you cheered, pulling him into a tight hug. You and Lukas had been friends growing up and the friendship had lasted twenty something odd years so far.

"Where is everyone? I didn't think I was that late," Lukas joked.

"Oh, they all went to eat. I got stood up," you explained, your shoulders sagging slightly.

"What?!"

"Yeah, he texted me ten minutes before I was supposed to walk down the aisle backing out. I guess I wasn't good enough for him," you mumbled.

"Well that's stupid. You're a beautiful bride. Have you seen yourself in a mirror?" Lukas smiled, grabbing one of your hands and twirling you around, causing your dress to spin around you. You laughed along with him as he stopped spinning you. "See, beautiful," he stated, moving a piece of hair that had fallen in front of your eyes behind your ears.

"Where's your plus one?" you asked, remembering the surprise you had had when Lukas's invitation had been checked plus one.

"Oh . . . you remember that girl I've been dating for a few years now?"

"Yeah."

"She cheated on me so I left her," he said simply, shrugging like he wasn't even sorry.

"You could have brought Basti. He always makes everyone laugh, especially after he's had a few drinks," you reminded Lukas of the German national team party Lukas had brought you to.

"He's busy watching women's tennis," Lukas shrugged. "Is there anyone else here?"

"Not unless you count the birds that got in here when we opened the doors for a few hours," you sighed, pointing up at the birds that had made a nest in the rafters of the old church. "How's Turkey?"

"Different from London," Lukas stated. "I guess I'm just going to have to get used to it."

"Well, you're always welcome here if you're ever feeling homesick," you offered. "Do you want to go eat at the venue? Your flight must have been long and tiresome."

"No, I'd prefer to dance," Lukas gestured to the old CD player you had dragged out of your parent's basement so that you would have organ music for your wedding, seeing as there was no organ in the small church. Picking up the CD, he set it on play, not even looking at the songs on it. Grabbing one of your hands, he placed it on his shoulder before placing his hand on your waist. Interlocking your other hands, the slow music started to play, echoing around the small space.

"You know I have two left feet, Lukas," you smiled shyly.

"And how many times have I told you that you just need to let your feet move on their own?" Lukas smirked, leading in the dance. You stepped on his foot once but afterwards, you and Lukas were moving around the small space, with your thoughts only on the two of you. Lukas spun you once, as the two of you danced. You smiled as Lukas lifted you up, setting you back down, not missing a beat.

"Do they teach you how to ballroom dance in Turkey?" you joked.

"I've taken a few lessons," Lukas winked. "You never know when they'll come in handy."

"Can't argue with that," you smiled. As the song ended, Lukas spun you around so that your back was pressed up against his chest, your arms crisscrossed in front of you. Staring up at Lukas, you got lost in his eyes. He leaned down and you closed your eyes. His lips brushed yours, timidly, like he was scared of losing you. You kissed back, turning around so that your hands were placed lightly on his chest. Pulling away, you heard clapping.

Surprised, the both of you turned around to see the priest sitting behind the altar. He stood up and walked around the altar. You and Lukas separated, still holding hands. Looking between you and Lukas, the priest smiled. "Well, I was told that I was marrying someone today. And I'd like to finish my job. That is, if this is the groom, Miss," the priest stated.

"This is him," you replied, smiling.

"You're pretty late, Son," the priest said to Lukas, a joking smile on his face.

"I know," Lukas smiled.

"I'll make this short and sweet. Ms. (Y/N) (Y/L/N), do you?"

"I do."

"And you, Mr. . . .?"

"Lukas Podolski."

"And you, Mr. Lukas Podolski, do you?"

"I do."

"Then, kiss your bride, you're married!" the priest ordered. Lukas happily obliged.

A.N. Last update until next Monday. Sorry, but I'll be on vacation and no contact with the outside world during family reunions. Until then, my lovely readers!