My feet can't seem to hold me up anymore. My legs are tired and sore and, although the spider is gone, the looming effects of the latest craving are still lingering.

I allow myself to slide to the ground like a child. Eleanor would scream if she saw me doing it. She'd be furious if I messed the suit up or scuffed my shoes somehow. Harry is quiet beside me. He doesn't seem too worried about his suit either, although his fingers play with the ends of his white blouse.

"I won't smoke or do drugs, I promise," Harry whispers. Good. I know that it means nothing now. That Harry can say whatever he wants to say to me, but I know. I was sure I wouldn't do them either. That is until everyone else is and you're 30 concerts into a 400 concert tour and your mom dies. The promise of lung cancer doesn't seem so bad after all of that, but I don't want it for Harry.

"Good. Don't let them rope you into a relationship either. If you do, make sure you let them know that it isn't real early on, alright? That way you still have a shot at happiness," I hear myself say. It's honest advice and advice I wish someone told me early on. Maybe then I wouldn't have a snake sleeping in my bed.

"I promise I'll try," Harry murmurs.