"Niall? Niall. Niall."

I'm not caving in. I won't look up.

"Niall. Niall Niall. Niall Niall Niall. Niall-"

"I won't talk to you, Seth," I mumble, succeeding at not looking up at him, practically sprawled across the dining table from his seat to mine in order to get my attention. Him being 6'5, I'm amazed that I'm still looking at my textbook.

"Is it because of what I said about you-know-who?" He asks, laying his head on his hands that are gripping the edge of the table beside me. I blink several times, not letting his unruly long hair and the fact that he's purposefully getting it in my stuff distract me. "That her chest resembles You-Know-Who's face?"

"Seth." I close my eyes once again, refusing to laugh at that while laughter rumbles from his chest, the way he's lying on a flat, hard surface making him sound like a goddamn demon.

"Seriously though," He turns on his back, and I take that as a chance to drop my head on the table for a second — here I thought he'd leave if I got my books and acted like too big of a nerd. Guess not. "How did she even become a stripper? I mean don't they have to be like..."

Once again refusing to look up, afraid of what gestures he might be making with his hands, I shrug reluctantly. "Push-up bras. Big cups. Dunno. Drop it."

I'm not sure why I'm acting like this, almost like I'm defending her. I'm not telling Seth to drop it because I'm still having a hard time dealing with what I did, I'm actually doing pretty well. But I generally don't like it when he starts talking that way about women. Could be because I'm a sensible human being.

"I'm not saying it as an insult," He continues, and I'm genuinely thinking about flipping the table over and beating him up with a chair. "I'm just curious. I reckon it's because she was really flexible, I mean, even you've seen her do her thing."

"Good theory," I mutter, praying to God he'd get the hint and get the hell out.

"I personally don't find it degrading, you know, being a stripper." He's really clueless, isn't he? "Women taking their clothes off. So what? Men do it all the time, everywhere. It shouldn't be any different. You know what's degrading? Men having to pay women to take their clothes off, because they're incapable of finding a woman that would do that for them for free."

At first I snort, but I just can't hold my laughter back. That's probably the only thing he could've said to get my attention and no matter how weird it sounded coming from Seth, the guy who bet five hundred goddamn dollars on Mitt Romney winning the election and eventually lost the money, I can't help but feel a little proud of the giant.

"You're automatically smarter than most of your generation for just saying that," I say with a smile, but then sigh in annoyance as I hear the door bell ring. "Can you go check who it is? Everyone is either asleep or in class." Or asleep in class.

"Sure," He hops off the table, and I can't help but watch him as he leaves the room. Not because he's finally left, something I've wanted since the moment he walked in, but I can't really wrap my head around how different his opinions on certain things have become, since I first met him. If he continues, I think I could finally teach him that 'gay' is not a synonym for 'stupid' and what things he shouldn't say when he goes out with Kassidy.

"Uh, Niall?" I look over my shoulder, to see him at the door frame, his face blank but his eyes, the way he's looking at me is almost fearful. "It's for you. But I recommend you wear a helmet."

I frown, already getting up, knowing that he's overreacting no matter who it is at the door. "What? What are you talking ab-" But as soon as I walk past him out of the kitchen and into the hallway, I get a feeling that I probably should've waited for him to get me a helmet; at the front door that's wide open, is Harry. Sweet, caring Harry, who would beat the living shit out of anyone who hurt his loved ones. Which means I should dig a fucking hole and hide in it until he leaves.

"Niall?" I blink to snap myself out of my thoughts, and gulp when I notice him leaning over the doorsill, looking at me with a frown that's been on his face even before he's seen me. Okay, I say a lot of shit for someone who's 5'10, weighs 70 kilos and has the bravery of a chicken nugget. This is when everything comes back to bite me in the ass.

"Uh, hi, Harry," I clear my throat, enjoying how soft the carpet feels against my bare feet as I walk towards him. I'm probably never going to feel the carpet again once Harry gets his hands on me, so I might as well enjoy the feeling now.

"Hi," He greets me back, nodding, putting his hands in his pockets after giving me a small wave. I guess he's gonna let me enjoy the carpet a while longer.

"You wanna come in? It's kinda cold, so..." I point behind him, referring to the five inch deep snow and curling my toes as the cold air comes in contact with my feet. Why am I even barefoot, why does the house feel like it's July?

"Actually, I don't have a lot to say so just give me two minutes," He says quickly, closing his eyes as he talks — I can't imagine what could've happened to make him look almost embarrassed.

"Yeah, okay," I nod, deciding I won't miss my toes if I have to cut them off from freezing after this conversation.

"Well, um, yeah, Freya talked to me and... as much as I'd love to grant you a slow and painful death..." At this point he almost looks like he needs to be held back, but a couple seconds later he forces a smile my way. "I just... wanna say thank you. So thank you."

His smile widens and starts looking more genuine as my expression keeps turning more perplexed, and then he just says, "She came home."

And in that moment, I swear I went into fucking cardiac arrest. "What?" I would've probably started mumbling like a retarded person, so I decide to say the only comprehensible word that's in my head.

"Yeah, after you..." He pauses to clear his throat, "Politely asked her to leave, she must've had an epiphany or something, because she came home a few nights ago. Mum opened the door, didn't even recognize her until she spoke."

Harry shrugs at that last part, while I'm still standing here, not even caring that I'm freezing my ass off- she went home. She fucking went home. "Or it was something you said, dunno," Harry shakes his head, thankfully not letting me get too lost in my own thoughts, "But yeah, you were definitely the one who triggered it, so..."

He takes a hesitant step forward, awkwardly patting me on the arm. "Thanks."

"So..." I close my eyes in order to collect myself, but mostly failing. "She just... showed up? Just like that?" I keep blinking at Harry as he keeps nodding, as if she's done nothing weird at all. "I don't- what did she even say to you guys?"

"Well," He looks up, as if reminiscing, "First her and mum had an hour long crying slash hugging session. But Freya was already in tears when she rang the bell, so it was more of a continuation for her. Then they spent the whole night talking, having Red Bulls to keep them up, trying to catch up- and she talked about you a lot."

I blink, looking up from the ground at Harry, as I've tried visually imagining everything he'd told me. "Really?" I raise my brows, a little unsure whether I should ask the other question that's on the tip of my tongue. "What did she say?" I still decide to ask it, anyway.

Harry sighs and raises his eyebrows as well, looking at me with a 'I know you're not stupid enough not to know that' kind of face. "Well, basically, you're an angel on earth and she hates herself for fucking up her thing with you," He shrugs again, "And I still wanna kill you for what you really told her in the end, but I can't. I cannot. Because you're the reason she came back in the end."

I nod at that, and I want to tell him I wouldn't blame him for wanting to kill me, but that would make me look even worse. "Okay."

"And I also wanna ask you something," Harry speaks up again, once more looking a bit anxious. When I say nothing, he continues, "Can you... not contact her for a while? At all?"

Before he showed up, I didn't think I'd want to contact her at all; but now when he came and told me she's done something right for once, without anyone having to tell her to do it, I'm pretty sure I'm back at square one. "Why?" And the first question I ask proves it alright.

"Well, you know, she just came back home, and... I don't think there's any other way she could've started getting her life back on track. Not therapy, not anything," He shakes his head, and I nod mine. We both know she tried that. We both know it didn't work out. "So just... give her a couple months to be where she's supposed to be, and spend time with the people she's supposed to be with."

And I'm not someone she's supposed to be with? "Couple months?" I nearly choke on the words, finding it hard to imagine myself without her for even a couple weeks. I don't know how I thought I'd survive not seeing her before Harry came to actually make me think about it, and I still don't know.

"Yeah. Look, this is the first time I've seen her be actually okay in a really long time, you know?" By now he looks desperate to have me stay away from her. "She's-she's okay, she's home, she's with her mum, she's okay. She's happy. I know it seems like it's too early to make that assumption, but she really is happy. I knew happy Freya. And I also knew Chicago Freya. And those two were never the same person."

If she was never happy in Chicago, does that mean she was never happy with me? If all the times I thought she was happy she actually wasn't, I really want to see what actually happy Freya looks like. Dammit, I want to see her now so bad. "Yeah, I know. I understand," I start nodding firmly, deciding not to voice any of my thoughts. If this conversation has really been two minutes long so far, then these are two very fucking long minutes.

"Thanks. I'm not saying that 'cause I think you're a bad influence or something, I just... want her to focus on her family for now. And she can't do that if you're constantly on her mind."

So I'm constantly on her mind, that's nice to know. "Yeah, no, I get it," I tell him in the lightest tone I can muster, nodding my head mechanically. "I just hope we don't become complete strangers because of... not talking for a long time."

The chuckle I force out in the end sounds almost like a cry for help; even Harry frowns at the sound that left my mouth, but thankfully doesn't say anything about it. "Well," He pauses for a second, not seeming angry or bitter for the first time. "How about you come over for her birthday? It's a bit over two months away, it's perfect."

I've started nodding even before he's finished that suggestion — I like it. It's centuries away, but his precision gives me hope. "Sounds good. Just call me a few days early so I can pick out a gift or something."

My sense of humor definitely isn't at its highest right now, but fortunately Harry's one of those people that laugh at bad jokes more than they do at funny jokes. "Okay, will do," He nods, finally with a genuine smile, after which we stand in silence for a few seconds, him fidgeting his hands and me coming to the realization that I don't feel anything from my knees down.

I look up from the ground when I notice him starting to move, and for a second I think that he's gonna give me a single punch after all — but he just puts one arm around me, in an awkward half-hug sort of thing. "Thanks again."

I nod so he'd feel it, and pat his back a couple times before he pulls away. Seconds later he's on his way out of the yard, and I'm on my way to my room.

"Are you alive?"

I roll my eyes as I hear the voice from the kitchen, "I'm fine."

"Got all your limbs on count?"

"Shut up, Seth," I shout from the top of the staircase, wriggling my toes in order to feel something while I walk towards the door. But the thought soon leaves my mind as I close the door behind me, and flop down on my bed with my phone.

I never thought I'd feel so anxious just from looking at her name and number on my screen; then again, I didn't think I'd be calling her three days after I basically kicked her out of the apartment we shared. But here I am, pressing the call button and lifting the phone to my ear, the situation somewhat similar of the one I was in a few days — I have no idea what I want to say but the need to talk to her is practically eating me alive.

The beeping stops after ten seconds, and I open my mouth to say something — but I can't bring myself to utter a single word. Whether it's because not even I know why I called in the first place, or because I have a bad feeling she'd just hang up if I started rambling, I'm just sitting here with my lips parted, probably looking like an idiot thus thankful that no one can see me.

"Niall?" I sigh in relief, as quietly as I can as I hear her voice on the other line; I was secretly hoping she'd start talking first.

"Hey." Well, what a great first thing to say. "Are you free right now? Can we talk?"

"Um- yeah, hold on."

I pull my lips between my teeth, not hearing any coherent noise on the other line for a few seconds, before I hear a door close. That's good, if I'm gonna make an idiot of myself due to not knowing what the hell to say, at least she's the only person that's going to know that.

"What's up?" I take a second before replying to her question, wondering if I should make small talk first, or go straight to the point. Doing the latter would be so much easier if I knew what point I actually want to make.

"Um, well, Harry paid me a visit." Straight to the point. If I play my cards right, this won't turn out as a disaster.

"Oh- oh." At first she sounds confused, and then surprised. He must have lied about where he's going. "Yeah, I had a feeling he didn't go to Kirsten's place. Mainly because Kirsten came looking for him an hour after he left."

I breathe out a laugh and look down, picking at the patterns of my comforter as we fall into another silence. "So you're really home, huh?"

"Oh, yeah." I smile at the tone of her voice, not even she can believe it. "I wasn't really thinking straight when I made that decision. I wouldn't have made it in the first place."

"It seems like a good decision," I tell her, feeling bold doing so. "He told me you're happy. And you sound happy too."

It's true — we're barely talking about anything, but there's just something different about her voice. It doesn't sound passive anymore, she doesn't sound like she doesn't care about anything anymore. I can't quite put my finger on it, she just... doesn't sound so black and white. There are colors in her voice. Colors not even I've witnessed before.

"And... I am," She confirms, to which I nod, "I am happy. I was afraid of coming back because they'd judge me, but I forgot that my family isn't like that. Especially since after my parents got divorced."

I nod to myself again, deciding to stop talking about that particular detail when I realize how awkward and uncomfortable she sounds talking about it. "Good, that's good. I'm happy for you." I pause for a second and look down again, starting to see the point of this conversation. "And I, uh, I called to say... I think... I'm sorry."

"You think you're sorry?"

"No, I am sorry," I close my eyes while remembering what happened a few days ago, "For lashing out on you like that. I could've handled it better and not hurt your feelings or anything."

"What? Niall- no, don't feel sorry for that. Don't feel sorry at all, okay? You tolerated me and let everything slide and I took it for granted, I needed a good kick in the ass. You're basically the reason all of this happened in the first place."

Yeah, Harry told me about that bit, it's nice to hear it from her too. "Okay," I reply quietly, "Also, um... since you've just come home and you're still getting used to everything, maybe we should... take a break so you could focus on that?"

There's silence on the other line and just when I think that I've said something wrong, "Did Harry tell you to say that?"

"No," I frown at my own answer, "Well, yes, but I think he has a point, you know. I mean if he hadn't come to tell me all this, we probably wouldn't be... speaking anyway."

Another silence sets in, but this time I know I have to keep talking. "Either way, I think it's great that you're home and I want you to concentrate on that. We can wait, there's time for us. I mean if you still even want to be-"

"Yeah, that sounds alright," She interrupts me, and I can barely hold back a sigh of relief. "So we're temporarily breaking up?"

I'm pretty sure I thought we'd broken up for good until ten minutes ago — but actually thinking about her not being my girlfriend anymore is a bit.. shocking? "Uh, how about a pause? Like a break. Like Ross and Rachel."

I hear her breathe out a laugh on the other line, but the way she stays quiet for some time after it makes me anxious. "No. That would mean we're still together but not really together and I can't do that, you know? I can't be with someone and not make any contact with them. It's like we're in a long-distance relationship, only it's... worse."

Well, she probably could've put that better, but I can see where she's coming from. "So... how about we put an end to this, and then just start over? It'll be easier for both of us."

"Sounds okay," I tell her immediately, not letting my thoughts go too far. "I'll... see you around your birthday?"

"Okay," Is all she says and, well, there's nothing else I could say. "I love you. Can I still say that? Well, this one last time anyway. I mean last time before we see each other again. Which is gonna be a while so I'm giving myself the liberty of saying it now, I love you. I love you."

By the end of her jumbled speech I can't help but laugh, genuinely for the first time, and roll around on my back in the process. "It's okay. I... love you too."

"Okay," She repeats, "Um... bye, Niall."

"Bye Freya."

For a moment, I'm hopeful that this will turn out like in the movies, where neither of us wants to hang up — but I'm proven wrong when the line goes dead a few seconds later. I press my lips together and bring my phone in front of my face, looking at her name fade from the screen along with the words 'Call Ended'.

"Hey, did you know," I can barely resist the urge to roll my eyes when I hear the voice again, as the person it belongs to barges into my room without even knocking. "The world's first tennis player has the same name as me?"

Seth flops down onto my bed next to me, him lying on his stomach and looking at his tablet, and me lying on my back and staring at the ceiling and ignoring him hopefully to the point where he leaves. This is one of those rare days when I just don't want to be around him. "Why do you follow me around all the time?" I can't help but ask, in a mutter, "Don't you have any other friends?"

"Yeah but you're my favorite friend. Look," He then brings his tablet right in front of my face, a little too close, but far enough for me to make out some words. "His first name is the same as my last name. It's even spelled the same way!"

And he's right — the guy's first name is Novak, like Seth's surname, and then his last name looks like a random combination of letters to me. "I didn't know that," I mumble monotonically, "I don't watch tennis that much."

"Well you should. We should." This time I honestly can't help rolling my eyes at his tone. I get what other guys mean when they say we act like an old married couple. "The guy is number one in the world and he's obviously smashing it. And more importantly, I share my name with him."

"Okay, what do you want me to do about it?"

The silence that follows is a little longer than I would have wanted it to be, so I turn my head to the side — and there he is, just staring at me. I really see why we're an 'old, married couple'. "Well, don't kill me, but I kinda overheard your conversation with Harry," He pauses to gulp as I narrow my eyes at him, "And I kinda overheard your conversation with Freya now too. And I kinda know what's going on and I don't want you to be, you know, depressed about it."

He finishes that awkward ass speech by bumping my arm with his fist, just as awkwardly, and the thought that Freya and I have just broken up over the phone almost completely leaves my mind as I snort at what he'd call 'affection'. I lift my hand and clumsily push his face away from me, which ends in him rolling over on his back too. Okay. We're both lying in my bed in the exact same position. God forbid one of the guys walked in right at this moment. God forbid. I'd never live it down.

"And you're suggesting watching sports to help me cope?" Alright, it's not like I'm literally depressed about it. When you think about it, it's more of a break than a break up, even though we agreed that's what it is. The only difference is that we can freely see other people.

"Not just sports," I can almost see Seth widen his eyes in excitement, even though I'm once again looking at the ceiling. "We're watching two men. And one of them has the same name as me."

Now that awfully sounds like he's planning for us to watch gay porn. "Don't get too excited, it's just his first name."

"Still, I've never met anyone who has Novak in either of their names."

"But you haven't met this Novak either."

"Why do you have to ruin everything for me?"

I breathe out a laugh and pull myself up so I'm sitting, "I'm just giving you a taste of your own medicine."

"Well, I don't like it. I recommend you keep tasting it."

And now it sounds like we're in a gay porn film. "Okay," I quickly say, shaking my head to get rid of the highly unnecessary thoughts. "Well, find him on some sports channel."

"Here or downstairs?" Seth asks after a minute, "The TV downstairs is bigger, you know."

"Uh, unless you plan to carry me downstairs-"

"Your thirteen inch box it is, then," He says before I can finish my sentence, and reaches over to grab the remote to the tiny portable TV placed a few feet from my bed. I lean my head back against the headboard while Seth flips through channels, and wonder just how much this situation with Freya is going to affect me once he leaves for good and I'm all by myself. I'll have to ask him to take all sharp and pointy objects on his way out.

*******

Everything she'd done in the past few hours was almost a blur to her; from walking out of the apartment she used to call home, to walking around the city she knew so well but seemed so foreign, and finally walking up to the doorstep of the house she used to live in.

And she still wasn't aware of her actions. She wasn't aware that she'd just rang the bell and heard footsteps inside, indicating that someone was going to open the door in a matter of seconds. Probably her brother, that she's as close to as possible. Or her step father, whom she hadn't seen the longest. Or her mother, which she subconsciously feared the most.

Nevertheless, she straightened out her jacket and ran a hand through her slightly damp hair, the little bit of common sense she could rely on right at that moment telling her that she should at least look remotely decent for this occasion. Even though her face isn't exactly cooperating, with her eyeliner probably smudged from her tears, her cheeks frozen from the snow, and if her expression matches how she feels inside, then she'd probably scare the life out of whoever opens the door for her.

At one point, so suddenly she has to focus on not falling on her back from the surprise, the door swings open and there she is, face to face with the woman she swore she could never look in the eye again. She hasn't changed a lot, was the first thing her mind registered, noticing the woman before her was still keen on wearing turtlenecks and leggings, even in the middle of winter, and her hair untamed, just like her daughter.

"Hi... can I help you?" And it was almost like magic, really, how the five short words the woman spoke practically breathed in the life in the younger one of the two. Freya felt sane, she felt like she was alive for the first time in years, literal years. It didn't matter that her mother didn't even recognize her, it didn't matter that her voice was so passive — it was there, right in front of her and she heard it again. She heard the voice of the most important person in her life again.

She'd suddenly come to the realization that this was the reason she always felt like something was wrong; the moment she left that house the way she did and for the reasons she had, she left half of herself behind. The half that was always happy, always cheerful and grateful for everything, the half she didn't even know existed until she left England. The half she wasn't aware she'd lost when she sat on that midnight bus to Chicago years back.

Realizing the way her mother is looking at her, she also realized she should probably say something, before she got the door slammed in her face. She was still far from being done with feeling like a whole person after so much time, but getting lost in that feeling right now would probably have bad results.

"Mum?" She raised her brows, hating how hopeless and broken she sounded, but if anything, her voice resembled her emotions. And the second decision she made after leaving the spare key of her former apartment under the doormat, is not to fake a single thing anymore. Not a word, not an emotion, not anything. She probably should have done that earlier, but she sure hoped it still wasn't too late.

The first decision, of course, was going to Rockford.

"What the..." Her mother murmured quietly, then felt the wall to her right and Freya heard a flick, before shutting her eyes as tightly as possible as the porch light switched on by her mother almost made her go blind. She instinctively brought a hand up to her face, partly pretending the bright light is bothering her, partly that she's attempting to rub her smudged make-up off, but in reality, she felt self-conscious about her mother seeing her face. Mostly because she didn't think she could stand the look on her face when she realized that it really was her, the daughter she raised and took care of for 16 years, only to one day have her leave without a single word of explanation.

Freya nearly stopped breathing when she felt a warm hand take hers to move it from her face, making it visible. She kept her eyes closed, not yet prepared for what might be in front of her, and tried looking away, or looking down, or even stepping back, but then the hand moved to her face, stilling it, leaving her with no choice but to look in front of herself. And it took everything in her, but moments into it, she finally mustered the courage to open her eyes.

The look on her mother's face, which was a lot closer to her than she'd predicted, was the one she wanted to hope for but couldn't afford doing so; she could hear how shaky her breath had gotten even before she looked at her, but she didn't think it was in a good way. She looked like something bad would happen to her any moment now — bursting into tears, passing out, having a heart attack - but in a good way.

"Oh m- oh my G-" Freya proceeded to close her eyes again, but this time only because she didn't feel like it was an appropriate moment to start laughing. Her mother had both hands on her face, caressing her cheeks, just feeling her skin to convince herself that no one was playing a sick joke on her and that her daughter was actually there, standing in front of her, God knows why, but she was there. She was there and that's all that mattered.

"Oh my God," She finally manages to coherently say, before breaking into sobs as Freya had known she would, and putting her shaky arms around her, squeezing her daughter's body and squeezing most of the air out of her lungs in the process too. "Oh my God, as soon as I stop crying, I am going to beat the living shit out of you, you hear me? Sweet lord, I bought a baseball bat just for this moment."

Hugging her mother back just as tightly, Freya deemed herself allowed to let out a squeaky laugh this time, so she did. Her mother was crying hysterically in her shoulder while they hugged each other, and somehow all she could do was giggle about it. "I'm not gonna blame you if you really do that."

But as soon as she actually spoke to her directly, something inside of her cracked and she could feel fresh tears forming in her eyes. And she hated it, she honestly thought she had no more tears left in her after what happened earlier that day, but she wasn't going to keep them in in spite of that. If there was ever an appropriate moment for her to cry, it was that moment right there, on the porch of her old home, while she hugged the woman she hadn't seen in over six years.

"Oh God, oh my God, let me see you," Her mother breathed quickly, untangling herself from her and brushing the hair out of her face, and it took everything in Freya to not look away, and maintain eye contact with her mom. "Lord, you've grown so much. Look at you, you're a fucking- you're a woman, how old are you again? Nineteen, twenty? Twenty-one?"

Freya knew she was messing with her, but it still made her smile and even laugh. And it was mostly the fact that she'd never heard her mother swear before that very moment. "I'm actually eighteen, but thanks for mistaking me for someone who can drink."

It was her mother's turn to laugh, but she stopped very soon as she brought a hand to her cheek again, and was once again on the verge of tears. "God, you're so pretty. Too bad I'll have to break your neck."

And then both were laughing, Anne's laugh being genuine, and Freya's being a little forced because of the mention of violence. She was still very sensitive to it and thought that she'd gotten enough drubbing as it is.

"Mum? Mum, why is the door opened, what is- well fuck me." Looking over her mother's shoulder, there was her brother, in a floral flannel that she was afraid he'd start wearing in public once the weather got warmer. He looks shocked, yes, but nowhere near to losing his shit like their mom did. "I thought we were gonna meet in that café, you didn't have to come all the way here."

But she felt too exhausted and happy and fulfilled and all of it at once to even try and be sarcastic back. She just stood there, holding her mother, and looked at her brother with a small smile that gave every emotion of hers away, and she was glad he had the same look on his face too. He even looked proud; his arms were tightly crossed over his chest, his teeth were starting to chatter, but not even the vicious February temperature could wipe off the priceless grin he had plastered on his face. It was an image Freya hoped to have memorized in her brain forever.

"Uh, yeah, I can assume how emotional this is for you guys, but can we please go inside? Lucas might swallow one of his Captain Americas. And my testicles are in my stomach."

"Ooh, yes, that's right, you have to meet Luke," Anne squeaked, pulling away from Freya and this time for good, but completely ignoring Harry's request.

"Please don't call him Luke, for crying out loud."

"I will call my son however I want to!" Anne shouted after Harry, who practically ran into the house, while her and Freya took their time getting in too. She knew about Luke, her three year old step-brother, from Harry's stories, in which he was always referred to as Lucas. She also knew that the reason for that was Harry's classmate Luke, who annoyed Harry so much for God knows what reason. Well, Harry claimed it was because Luke acted cocky about being in a band, but Freya knew how much he hated competition in the ladies field. Even though he was in a 30 year long relationship.

"Just wait until Roger comes home and sees you," Anne grinned once they were inside, "He's gonna have another heart attack."

The 23 year old couldn't help but widen her eyes in pure terror at the woman in front of her, "Mum!" She exclaimed, but her mother didn't really react to her tone. Instead, she seemed to react more to Freya calling her 'mum' than what she was trying to say by saying the word.

"Listen, I have no idea what happened and why you came, but," The older woman pauses and forms a serious expression as she places her hands on her daughter's upper arms, and for once, Freya's dominant emotion wasn't joy — it switched to fear for a split second. "You're never leaving again. I won't let it happen again. I'll cuff you to a water pipe if you try."

"Oh my God, you don't have to worry about it," Freya laughed, joyous once again, and seemingly having forgotten all about the 19 year old architecture major she'd met in an alleyway in Chicago. "It took huge balls for me to even consider showing up, after so long. I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," Anne almost whispered, and deciding not to break into tears at least for now, she forced a happy smile, "Now come on, Luke is waiting for you."

"I heard that word!"

*******

as promised, this chapter came earlier :))))))) now i'm going to go and sleep until obama's term ends goODBYE but please vote and comment while i'm gone and make me the happiest person when i wake up wooooooo :D x