"SWEET PEA?"

I hear the door to Matt's room creak open and a small slither of light from the hallway passes over my face as I hug one of Matt's pillows. I don't even bother moving as Dad makes his way towards me and perches on the side of the bed.

It had now been a year since Matt died, over a year, and I was back from university. I hadn't told Dad I was coming back, but he's probably seen my bags at the front door and assumed this was where I'd be. It's where I always go when I come home.

This last year has been incredibly hard. It was hard enough anyway, without the added drama of Archie leaving, but part of me is now very glad Dad forced me to go back to university in October last year. I stayed for over a week when I came home last year, when Dad told me Archie had left. Each day I said I'd only stay one more day, until one day turned to nearly three weeks. After that Mum, Dad and Mark had an intervention and Dad drove me up to Edinburgh,  almost kicking and screaming.

A year later, though, it's the best thing the three of them could have ever done for me. I know now that if I had stayed home there would have been nothing for me to do but dwell on everything that happened, why Archie left and make myself miserable. At least at university I could go out and enjoy myself. Well... I haven't exactly gone out, but I did have a major distraction in all my schoolwork, and with all my friends helping me through, I've actually managed to enjoy myself... mostly.

But even after a year it's difficult, and incredibly frustrating. In his letter, Archie told me to move on, to forget about him, but it's not something I could just do on command. Archie may have been able to - in fact he probably has by now - but I wasn't finding it so easy. When you know what it's like to have found the other half of your soul, having a soulmate, no one else seems to compare.

To drive the dagger home, all of my friends at university have now coupled up. My best friend Nelly broke up with her boyfriend, Pat, over the summer and now has a new boyfriend Will. My coursemate Glen is now dating my housemate Ryan, and Sophie, the girl I met on my first day of classes because we were both crying in the bathroom, has now found Paul. Everyone has someone now, except me. At home, there's a loved up couple everywhere I go, in class and on campus there are loved up couples, and it was as if the universe was rubbing it in my face that I hadn't found anyone. But having a house full of people with other halves meant it was also hard for me to meet new people. I didn't blame any of them for being happy, of course I didn't. I just wished I could find someone and be happy too.

I needed a week off from all of it though, because although I'm now okay with the idea that I am most likely going to be alone for the rest of my life, I didn't like it being rubbed in my face every ten goddamn seconds.

"How come you're back?" Dad asks, as if the answer wasn't obvious.

I sigh. "It's Reading Week this week. We have a week without any classes," I tell him, my voice muffled by Matt's pillow.

I sniff, trying to ease some of the tension in my chest, but instead I'm enveloped in the musty scent of Matt's aftershave and a small sob comes out of me, partly disguised as a hiccup. Even after a year, the sheets still seem to smell like him and a lump slowly begins to form in my throat.

Dad doesn't say anything for a moment, he just looks down at me, no doubt trying to read my expression as I hug Matt's pillow tighter to me, as if it's my lifeline. I suppose he's worried I'm home for the wrong reasons. Well, the wrong reason. It may have been over a year that Matt died, but it was almost a year to the day that Archie had left, too.

"Tess, really," he presses. "Why are you here?" He nudges for me to move over so I shuffle sideways and hand him the other pillow, not wanting to let this one go.

He lies on his back, putting both of his hands behind his head and clears his throat, nudging me to answer.

I give him what I hope is a shrug. "I just fancied coming home," I mumble quietly. "I needed some breathing space."

He turns his head and frowns at me, looking for me to clarify. I roll over and mimic him, looking up at the glow in the dark stars that Matt had never bothered to take down.

After another minute or two of silence, I sigh. "It was just getting a bit crowded in our house." I turn my head and smile at him as best I can. "And seeing as I basically have the week off, I thought I would come and check up on you."

That was the truth. I did want to see him. But the main reason I'd decided to come home was because it was all getting a bit claustrophobic in that house. I live in a house of seven people, where everyone is coupled up except me. I've been spending most of my time in the library when I don't have classes these days. I have been focussing on essays and getting ahead, but it's mostly to avoid the love fest I know I have waiting for me when I get home.

Dad smiles at me. It's the same smile he's been giving me all year. He knows all about my frustrations, and this smile is his 'you will find it soon, don't worry' face, and even though I've believed it all this time, my trust in it is starting to run out.

Deciding on a new topic of conversation, I sit up and hug Matt's pillow to my front, sighing as I examine the room.

"I really miss him, Dad," I whisper, my voice barely able to push past the golf ball-sized lump in my throat.

He sighs a shaky breath and sits up same as me, looking across at me.

I blink and feel a tear sliding down my cheek. "I miss him so much. It's just so hard realising he's now been gone for over a year."

It was year to the weekend since Archie left us, but even though it's not entirely a coincidence as to why I came home, it doesn't mean I miss Matt any less. Dad knows I mean both of them, but he also knows well enough not to ask which one I mean.

"I miss him, too." He hugs his knees. "I haven't even been able to move things around in here."

I sit up further and take a look around the room, realising he's right. Matt's towel is still hanging on his wardrobe door; there's a pair of boxers and a trouser leg hanging out of an overflowing wash basket; his laptop is open on his desk; his book is planted page down on his bedside table; his signed shirts are all hung up haphazardly on his wall, none of them even. Nothing has changed. It's as if he could walk through the door any minute and ask us why we were in his room.

However, this did tell me one thing. It told me that Dad wasn't moving on either, and it was about time we both did.

"Maybe..." I begin. "Maybe that's what we should do this week?" I suggest, my voice small, worrying he'll be angry at my suggestion.

I look across at him, his eyes glistening same as mine, and try to give him a smile.

"We could invite Mum down? Maybe it's what we all need?"

He takes a deep breath, one which shakes raggedly as he sits up and I know he's trying to be strong. But when the bed starts shaking with his sobs, I know he can no longer hold it in.

He sobs for a few minutes before he gets himself under control, and I feel similar tears falling down my cheeks as I see my dad, a man who I'd barely ever seen cry, break down in front of me.

"I know I have to let him go eventually... to move on. But he's my boy," he sniffs, "and I just miss his ridiculous personality and his stupid, goofy smile so much. I miss his laugh and I..." he coughs a sob before wiping his nose on his hand. "It sounds so stupid, but I miss telling him off." He half laughs and sobs, and I sit up and myself close to him as he does so.

Being home has no doubt been a hard, grieving process for Dad. Last year he had Millie for company, whilst I was away at university - a fact I will always be truly grateful to Millie for - but now she is away quite a lot at culinary school. She comes back most weekends, when she isn't seeing Greg, but Dad is now essentially on his own the whole week, with no distractions from his grief.

I wipe my nose on my sleeve before resting my head on Dad's shoulder. I put my hand in his and he grips it hard as he wipes at his eyes with a handkerchief. With his free hand, he puts it to his nose and blows hard, seemingly blowing away all the tears.

"Sorry," he apologises, still wiping his nose, but I shake my head.

"Dad, you don't have to be sorry. I get it," I say quietly, wiping at my own eyes. The hardest thing is seeing him so upset when there isn't much I can do for him, except be here for him as much as I can and hold his hand when I can.

"I know, but it's never fun seeing your old day cry, eh?" He jokes after blowing his nose again unattractively.

"You're not old, Dad," I tell him and he laughs.

"Oh, thanks," he nudges me in the side with his elbow.

I giggle. "Plus, it's only fair. You've seen me cry way more times."

He shakes his head and then looks around the room again. He sighs and smiles, and I think a memory has popped into his head.

"You know..." he laughs to himself. "I dropped a plate the other day. And I called out his name, on instinct." He smiles at me. "I used to hate his clumsiness... but now I miss it."

He chuckles and I join him. Matt was the reason we had such a mix-match of plates. Despite being an amazing goalkeeper, with hands like gold, when it came to plates, I swear he had butter fingers. And he did it way too often for it to be on purpose.

Dad sighs after we've both been quiet for nearly ten minutes. His arm is now around my shoulders and my head is resting on his shoulder, his head leaning on mine.

"I think you're right, Sweet Pea." I move my head to look up at him and he smiles down at me before putting a warm hand on my cheek. "It's been a year. It's time."

I smile and tip my head into his hand, finding the warmth of it as comforting as I always have, relieved he's taken it well. He could have been angry, accusing me of moving on too fast or ruining the memories of Matt he has in this room, but from the bright and warm smile he's giving me, I don't know why I'm surprised.

"Matt wouldn't want us to be constantly looking back, living in the past." Dad shakes his head. "He'll always be with us, no matter what we do."

I nod and smile back at him before putting my head back on his shoulder, relieved. And it's another moment or two before either of us say anything again.

"And you're right about your mum. She would want to be here." He drops a kiss on my head before sitting up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "And seeing as you're here for the week, maybe we could all go through his room together."

I nod again as a wider grin crosses my face. I hadn't seen Mum or Mark since they left for South America a few months ago. They're working on a nature photography piece, hoping to spot Tamarin Monkeys and a few Jaguars. Now that I was thinking about it, I hadn't seen either of them since they got married in June, so we were definitely overdue. I smile as a memory of us all laughing at their wedding pops into my mind. They timed it with a post-exam celebration and there were many sore heads around the breakfast table the next morning.

"Cup of tea?" Dad asks, pulling my mind away from the worst hangover I'd ever experienced.

I smile widely. "Oooh, now that, Father, is great idea."

He taps my nose. "I'll go get the iPad whilst you get the kettle on," he tells me, before he stands and leaves the room.

I follow him, putting Matt's pillows back as I found them, but I take one final look around the room, resting my cheek on the cool doorframe. After all this time, it really hadn't changed. Now it all will, but not before we spend the next few days going through our memories of him, remembering all the good times we had.

The thought makes me smile.

"Tess?" Dad calls from downstairs.

I push off the doorframe with my shoulder. "Coming!" I call.

With a sigh, I pull the door closed, leaving Matt's room in peace before resting my forehead on the wood of his door.

"I love you, bro," I say quietly to myself.

And in my head I hear Matt's voice speaking back to me. "I love you too, sis."