"Honey, I'm home!" I call as I walk into my apartment, barely resisting the urge to laugh at myself while I shrug my jacket off. "Are the kids alright?"

"None of your TV shows got cancelled, Niall, they're alright." I walk over to the closed door of the bathroom, leaning against it with a grin on my face.

"Are you gonna come out soon? We have to leave in an hour."

"I know, give me another minute!"

"Alright," I mumble to myself, sighing, and walk over to the kitchen. The clock I hung above the sink says it's 6:13; so we actually have a little over an hour left. Besides, why do I always wanna be at the airport three hours before my flight?

I get myself a can of coke from the fridge – which reminds me, I need to tell Louis to buy more beer or I'll die from the drought – about a second before I hear the bathroom door open, making me contemplate whether I should leave it for later or open it now. "Hey, tell me-" I hear Freya's voice, becoming louder as she approaches the living room slash dining room slash kitchen, "Is this a good look on me?"

I shove my left hand into my pocket and turn around from the counter, with an opened coke can, and laying my eyes on her makes me stop raising the can to my mouth midway. White converse, blue jeans, that same cuddly grey and white sweater she wore yesterday- not an outfit I could ever imagine seeing on her.

"You look-" I stop talking, as well as bringing the soda to my lips again, when my eyes travel a little higher- not only the outfit, but she also toned her make-up down to just mascara and lipbalm. The cherry on top of all of that is her straightened hair in a ponytail. "I'm sorry, who are you and what have you done to Freya?"

"Well," She starts, in a deep voice, walking over to me, "I realized that the usual Freya is not someone you'd want to introduce to your mother. She's more of a person that-"

"-I'd wanna fuck in the back seat of my car to the rhythm of a Fall Out Boy song?"

"Exactly," She agrees in less than a heartbeat, almost making me spit out my soda. "And we don't wanna make your mother think you chose to be with someone who would willingly have sex in a vehicle. And hey, is my hair okay like this? I haven't straightened it in ages."

"Yeah, it looks... it requires some getting used to but it's nice," I breathe out a laugh, shaking my head, trying to think of the right words to say to her first sentence. "Babe, you... you don't have to change your entire appearance so my mum will like you, I told you, at the end of the day, her opinion doesn't even matter."

Groaning, Freya throws her head back; she knows I'm right, but I understand that she can't fight the feeling of wanting to be liked. "Okay, well, maybe I could... can I wear my leather jacket? Or is that too punk for her?"

I don't know if her asking for permission to wear her favorite piece of clothing is funny or sad. "Well, I also own a leather jacket," I shrug, seeing her eyes light up at my words- the hell, she already knows I have it? "So... yeah. You can totally wear your-"

Her hands are on my face and her lips on mine before I can finish my sentence; all I can do is smile into our kiss and think about how I should do more things that would make her this happy. Even though that's kinda my duty now. "Great!" She squeaks, still grinning from ear to ear, and turns around to walk to the other side of the room, probably to the bedroom. "Tell me what else I can wear, I want her to like me but I don't wanna feel like an alien in my own skin."

"Well..." I leave the can of soda on the counter and reach in my right pocket, "You could try wearing this?"

Freya swiftly turns around, probably having expected me to be holding some piece of clothing, but she ends up freezing in her spot and widening her eyes when she sees me holding a box in my hand. Much smaller than the one that contained a necklace I gave her a few months ago. This one is also square.

"Niall," She says, quietly, her tone almost warning, "What have you done?"

"Come here," I smile, getting a little nervous at this point. "And open it."

It takes her a minute to start walking toward me, cautiously, looking at the item like it's a cluster bomb or something. "I- oh my god," She breathes out when she opens the box, first putting her hand over her eyes, and then sliding it to her mouth so she can look at the content inside. "I don't- how could you even afford this?"

"Oh, I almost had to take out another student loan, so please like it," I tell her, having her laugh at my explanation, almost choked up from looking at it. "By the way, it's not an engagement ring, it's a wedding ring. In case you were wondering why it doesn't have a rock."

She doesn't respond, but after a few seconds of watching it in admiration, she takes it out of the box with shaky hands and- "Wait, no, I do that," I speak up, stopping her from putting it on herself. I can see her looking at me with her eyes wide and possibly even teary, while I lead her to the middle of the room.

"Well, Freya-"

"You have yours too!" She squeaks when I take her left hand in my left hand, revealing a ring almost identical to hers. "You have- are they the same?"

"Yeah, yours is rose gold, and mine is... gold gold. I put it on as soon as I paid for it, dunno if there's a difference other than yours being a little pink and mine being plain gold," I comment, shaking my head to get my mind off of that; I'm trying to do something and it's like she's distracting me on purpose.

"Well are the prices diffe- oh god," She nearly whispers when I get down on one knee- dammit. Wrong knee. Well, too late to change it now.

"Freya Marjorie," I smile up at her- I don't think I've ever felt like such a cheeseball. "I... know I'm doing everything backwards because, here I am, proposing to you... with a wedding ring... four hours after we actually got married..."

I smile in relief when she screws her eyes up, barely holding her laughter in, with her right hand on her face while I hold her left one. "Anyway... before I met you, the sun was like a yellow grape. But now, it looks like fire in the sky. Why? Because you light a fire inside me."

"Nice try, Niall."

"Fuck you, Freya." I squeeze her hand to keep her in place, because she's legitimately started losing her shit from laughing. "How am I supposed to spend my eternity with you if you know when I quote my TV shows?"

"Oh my god, just put it on and quit being a schmuck."

"A- a what?" I raise my brows, not getting an answer from her because, apparently, sliding a wedding ring on her ring finger is so captivating. "Did you just call me a schmuck?"

"Oh, yeah, about that," She begins, looking at her hand but averting her eyes to me when I stand up, "Now that we're married, I'll have to teach you the language of the Jews. Or not. It's more fun when I call you names and you don't know what I'm saying."

"Uh, okay," I reply slowly, a little less confused, "So... schmuck is a Jewish word? What's it mean?"

"It's in Yiddish, and it's when someone's acting silly or foolish," She says in a velvet voice, wrapping her arms around me and leaning onto me, "But it's literally translated to 'penis' in English, so I simultaneously get to call you a dick too."

"Well, isn't that one amazing word," I nod, my voice clearly sarcastic, "Schmuck, right?"

"Mhm."

"Schmuck," I repeat again, "Sounds like a name you'd give to your dog or something."

"...You'd name your dog Schmuck knowing it means dick in another language?"

"Well, I mean, even a trained dog sometimes pees or shits somewhere it's not supposed to, of course I'd wanna call it a dick if that happened."

"Does Lab do that?"

"No, but if he did, I'd call him a dick for it," I nod reassuringly, smiling at the fact that she remembered I have a dog, and his name. Then again, forgetting someone has a Labrador named Lab shouldn't be that easy. "Oh, wait, I almost forgot something."

I untangle myself from her and walk over to the hallway, where I'd hung my jacket, to get my phone. Thankfully, it's not being slow today, so I find what I need by the time I'm back in front of her. "We never had our first dance."

While she closes her eyes, undeniably because I'm being too cheesy for anyone to handle, I play the song of my personal choice, and leave the phone on the counter. "Seriously? What even is this song?"

"This is... Tenerife Sea," I say through a sigh, taking her waist, "It used to be my favorite song but I ruined it by listening to it eight hours a day."

"And you still picked it for our first dance?"

"Well I couldn't just not pick it for our first dance."

She only smiles at that, keeping quiet for a minute and just listening to the song. "You have..." She speaks up about halfway through the song, laying her head on my shoulder, "The most diverse taste in music I've ever heard."

"Yeah, I don't wanna limit myself to one genre," I tell her, lifting my hand to stroke her hair- I hope I don't mess up her ponytail. "It'd be unfair."

"Yeah... I'm glad I didn't marry a music snob."

I smile at her words as she looks up at me, "Hey, do you think..." I start, "Do you think, now that we're married, we should go to more grown up places? Like gallery openings, art exhibitions... the theater?"

"I don't really like the theater," She shakes her head- thank god. "But I like the sound of galleries. You know they have free champagne and everything at openings."

"Are we gonna be one of those couples? The ones that go to events for the free food?"

"Yeah, and we'll look at contemporary abstract paintings and try to figure out what the fuck they're portraying."

"Figuring that out is gonna be hard if we get drunk on champagne."

"Hey, it's gonna be hard either way, I mean, have you seen contemporary abstract art lately?"

I grin, moving a loose strand of hair out of her forehead, while she bites her lip at her own comment. I might as well have married the female version of myself. "Can I ask you something?" She raises her eyebrows, getting a curious nod from me. "What did Seth think about all of this?"

"Well..." I trail off, not really prepared for that question. "He was shocked at first, that's for sure. Then he proceeded to ask me if you're pregnant too on our way to the city hall."

Freya leans her forehead against my shoulder again, laughing quietly for a few moments before looking at me again, with an amused smile, "And when you said no, how did he react?"

"Dunno, he was acting really weird," I shrug, "I think he was disappointed that we didn't wait to have a big wedding where he could've been my best man and made an embarrassing, drunken speech and probably sat on our cake by accident."

Despite my remarks, which I initially thought were funny, she only presses her lips together, not giving me any kind of reaction. "Do you think we should've waited too?"

"...You know we can always have a wedding party, doesn't matter that we're married," I shrug again, hating how the mood is clearly going down because of Seth and his reactions. "Do you think I should've chosen someone else to be our witness? You could've called Natasha. Or I could've gone with Louis, but it's as if he's disappeared off the face of earth-"

"No, no," Freya shakes her head, finally cracking a smile, "That would've only made Seth angrier."

I nod firmly in agreement, earning a laugh from her, "You know," I start soon after, "We may have known each other for only seven month, but considering everything we've been through, our relationship is at least twenty years old."

"I like the way you think," She grins, almost immediately, "Then again, it did take you twenty years to propose..."

"Shut up."

She grins wider as I keep shaking my head, leaning up to press her lips against mine, our awkward slow dancing coming to an end. "Um..." I mumble, pulling away with a frown and lifting a part of her ponytail so I can see it, "Is... your hair supposed to get curly so fast..?"

"Oh no," She groans, reaching behind her to touch the strand of hair I'm holding, "God, give me five minutes and then we can leave, promise!"

I barely hear her saying the last word as she sprints out of the room, doubtlessly to try and straighten her hair again before her straightener goes completely cold, and I'm left alone to sigh and stop the song, that's gone on repeat for the second time. Not half a minute later though, I head a door opening and being slammed shut; and given that I've been living here for exactly a year, I can tell it's not the bathroom door.

"Good, you're here. So what happened," Louis says, loudly, barging into the room almost as if he'd rehearsed doing it. "That- that asshat calls me up for breakfast yesterday morning, so we go to the place we-"

"Is the asshat your old roommate?"

"Nuh-uh," He turns around, waving his hand at me as he walks to the kitchen, "From this point on, he is asshat. The asshat. I declare that no one else is allowed to be called asshat because that's reserved especially for him."

I feel like he's being over-dramatic, but what do I know about his relationship with his old roommate. "So," Louis almost yells, his tone making my nose scrunch up. "We go out for breakfast, and he admits he called me up 'cause him and Perrie broke up."

He pauses to take a long gulp of beer- I'm just realizing I know more about his ex roommate's ex fiancé than I do about the roommate. I don't even know the guy's name. "And, you know, we spend a few hours there, like we always do, he vents to me, I pretend to care about his personal life. So I stay with him the whole day, and-and then I ended up sleeping over at his place, 'cause he has this... weird tendency of becoming philosophically suicidal whenever something bad happens, and this time it was really bad, so, yeah. I was barely here at all while you were gone."

"Okay," I nod, recalling the moment Freya and I came; at least the apartment was locked. "What'd you do?"

"Well, a few hours ago we were at his place right, I was sitting on my old couch and scrolling through instagram and I happened, alright, I happened to be scrolling past a picture of Perrie and I fucking looked at it for point two seconds, and the-the asshat sees it and decides to accuse me of being the reason they broke up."

I raise my brows as he leaves his bottle of beer on the counter, his hands too shaky from anger to be holding something fragile, "The best bits were 'I knew you two had something', 'I knew she only moved in so she could be closer to you', and 'I should've kicked you out when I first had the chance and not wait two and a half years to do it'."

Louis takes a deep breath, taking his beer to down the rest of it in an attempt to calm down; and I'm here, still staring at him with raised eyebrows and a terrified expression. There are only two things going through my head – I'm glad there's nothing breakable within his reach and I'm also glad I trust Freya enough not to accuse either of them of something like that. Man. They weren't even just roommates, they were best friends. What if I'd started living with Seth like that and-

"So, those were my 36-ish hours," He sighs, seeming to have calmed down a bit. "What'd you do? Shouldn't you be on your way to Ireland or something?"

"Uh, well, yeah," I stutter, frowning a little and clearing my throat in the end, "I'm just waiting for my, um... my... wife... to get ready."

I awkwardly blink around the room, today's events hitting me in the head like a brick wall for what only seems the first time – I got married. I fucking got married.

"Your what?" Louis says, monitonically, not seeming shocked or surprised in the slightest. He probably thinks I'm joking. It's alright, I'd think he's joking too.

"I... I got married."

It's gonna be weird having to say that to every other person I talk to from now on.

"You got married?" He raises his brows now, and I feel like he wants to believe me but he just can't make himself do so. "How- how long was I actually gone? Do I have a beard or something? Last time I was with you you were single!"

I breathe out a laugh, relieved when he also smiles, and starts walking over to me slowly. He either wants to congratulate me or kill me. "You got... you got married."

"Yes I did." I don't know if I'm trying to convince him or myself.

"Does that mean your wife's gonna be living here? 'Cause I'mma tell you right now, I can't go through that again."

With another laugh I shake my head, just as I hear the bathroom door open and close. I'm glad that's his only worry. "No, we're actually-"

"Okay, I'm done, we can go whenever you're re-" Freya starts, walking into the room while looking at her phone, but stops once she looks up and meets Louis' eyes. At first it's a normal, surprised expression, something like 'hey you must be Niall's roommate that I've never met' but then she widens her eyes a bit and parts her lips, and when I look over at Louis, he has the identical expression.

"Shut up," Freya's the first to speak up, quietly, her voice almost a whisper as she tries fighting back a smile-

"You shut up," Louis says a second later, walking over to her-

"You shut up."

"You shut up!"

It's my turn to widen my eyes when they start laughing at each other, Freya wrapping her arms around his neck tightly and him doing the same with her waist. A minute after their laughing session she brings her right hand to her mouth, looking like she's about to burst into tears- okay, they definitely know each other from somewhere, that I'm sure of-

The framed picture in her room. With her, and Allison, and another guy. That's him. He's the guy. The guy with the red beanie, standing between them, his arms around Allison's back and Freya's shoulders, grinning like a kid. It's him. I just didn't recognize him. How did I not recognize him?!

"How is it that I didn't put the pieces together?" Freya breathes out, sniffling, almost voicing my thoughts. "Roommate named Louis, not American, art major-"

"You remembered I wanted to major art?" Louis leans back, to look at her, "Not even my mother-"

"Of course I remembered you wanted to study art, you git, I never even forgot it!"

"Oh, well, yeah, I guess if you wanna be a neurosurgeon you have to have superior memory, right?"

For a minute they just stare at each other, clearly trying to come up with the best remarks possible but then Freya grins at him, shaking her head, "I can't believe it's you, it's literally been-"

"Hi, in case anyone forgot," I speak up, loudly as I lean against the counter behind me, earning their attention, "I'm Niall, I'm here, and you're my roommate and you're my wife so-"

"Are you fucking kidding me, you married her?" Louis yells for real this time before turning to Freya, "You married him? You actually got married?"

"Yes I did!"

"Someone thought you'd make a good wife?"

"I know right?!"

"Guys!" I shout, ending their exciting and slightly insulting conversation, and making them both look at me. "I am here!"

Freya sighs, letting go of Louis but not taking her eyes off him – almost like she's visually telling him what to do. "Well... alright, I'll break the ice. Like I always do with you," Louis says, muttering the last part to Freya before looking at me. "Okay, well. When Freya moved from England, I was her first neighbor."

"Because his parents were also divorced and he moved here with his mom too."

"Yes," Louis drags the word out, glaring at Freya for a second for interrupting him. "And we bonded over that. And when we found out we're in the same grade in school, we became best friends. And... that's pretty much it, I mean, there's nothing exciting about how we know each other. We've just known each other for a long time. Really long time."

"Thirteen years."

"I knew we were close when you got those pink highlights when we were 14, and one day I pulled out a pink hair out of my asscrack."

"Do you seriously still tell that story?"

"Of course I do, it's ridiculous," Louis shrugs, unapologetically, "You know what else was ridiculous? Your pink highlights."

"Shut the fuck up, you wore denim vests all through puberty."

"At least I looked good in them, and not like an oompa loompa with pink hair." He suddenly leans really close to her, "And you still look like an oompa loompa, you should've dyed your hair green instead and gotten it over with."

"You're still as rude as I remember you."

"And you're fifty shades darker than I remember you, seriously, where do you get such a tan in Illinois? You're literally an oompa loompa."

"Fuck you, honestly."

Louis already had trouble saying his last sentence, due to laughing, and Freya's insult only makes him lose his shit – having her join him moments later. "God, I missed you," He giggles, taking her head and kissing the top of it while she wraps her arms tightly around his waist- I'm still processing everything but I can't help thinking this is cute. The two of them, reunited. After god knows how long. All thanks to me. Aw.

"I missed you too," Freya mumbles against his shoulder, sighing contently, "Niall, I hope you know I'm never letting him move out."

"Niall, I hope you know I wouldn't move out when if you wanted me to."

"Well, we can... negotiate I guess," I grin, pulling myself up on a countertop, "Were you as good with Allison as Freya was?"

At my question, both of them kind of freeze; Louis' the first one to pull away, almost forcing the blank look on his face- I can already tell I've said something wrong. "Allison, uh... wow, I haven't heard anyone mention her in a long time."

Freya keeps nodding at his words, a worried look on her face while she looks at the side of his. Louis leans against the dining table, still staring right in front of himself- why does Allison being mentioned affect him more than Freya?

Speaking of her, she swiftly walks over to me, "Louis was her first-"

"You don't need to whisper it, babe, I might as well be an open book now," Louis speaks up, trying to smile but failing as he looks like he's grimacing. "Allison was... my first girlfriend. And I was her first boyfriend. And we were 14. Well, I was 14, her and Freya were 15. A little after you got rid of the pink highlights. And we were kids and it was stupid and we don't ever have to talk about it again."

"Lou, it wasn't stupid, you were the last person she-"

"Whether it was stupid or not, we really don't have to talk about it," He cuts her off, shaking his head and breathing out a laugh at the end of his sentence. "Don't you two have Ireland to be in?"

I take a deep breath and get off the counter, heading to the bedroom and leaving Freya to talk to him. I only hear her telling him we need a few more minutes to get ready and then we'll be heading out- which isn't completely untrue. I still need to check if I've gotten everything packed for the fourth time.

About halfway through checking my only bag, I hear the door open and close, and I don't need to look to know it's Freya. "They were together for two years and he was the last person she talked to before she died," Freya says, quietly, her words making my hands come to a halt for a few moments. I guess that answers my assumption about Louis having a bit of a turbulent relationship with Allison.

"She was crying and told him she loved him and when he asked what's wrong, she told him not to worry about anything. Three days later, he was telling me this story, at his house, after we'd gotten back from her funeral. That was the last time we talked to each other about her. And I'd really appreciate if you didn't bring her up anymore, for me but mostly for Lou."

"Okay," I respond, my voice as quiet as hers, as I close the bag and turn around to face her. "I'm sorry for everything that happened with her though, is it okay if I say that? I'm sorry about the stuff you had to go through."

"Thank you," Freya whispers, wrapping her arms around my neck and I can see a glimpse of a smile in the slight darkness. "Just don't mention it around Louis anymore, alright? I think he's still sensitive about it and he probably-"

"But wait, are you telling me," Speaking of the devil, he's barging into the room, almost yelling- I have a feeling that's his thing. "That we've been living in the same city for years, and neither if us had any idea?"

Well. Either Freya is wrong or Louis is an excellent actor.

*******

"Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"Wanna stop at a store for water or something?"

"No."

"Alright," I mumble, looking away way from her so I'm looking where I'm going. "Do you need to vomit again?"

"Niall." I grin at the side of her head- even though we've been walking next to each other for fifteen minutes, she hasn't looked at me once since we had to stop the bus driver halfway from Dublin so she could go out and throw up. For the second time.

"I'm just being considerate."

"I think the word you're looking for is schmuck."

"I'm sorry," I bite my lip, holding back a smile because showing the slightest bit of humor around her right now would mean death for me. "It's that house over there."

Not a second after I point at the second house from us, she considerably slows down and I'm yet again forced to not laugh when she groans loudly. "God- you know what, on second thought, I'm pretty sure I wanna vomit again."

"Listen to me," I leave my bag on the ground to take her wrists, and make her really look at me for once. "I can't control how she thinks of you, but I sure as hell won't let her treat you like anything less than what you are, alright? You're my wife. And before that, you're a human being. And for those reasons, you're gonna tell me if she says anything. Anything at all, anything that dismisses you being either one of those things. Okay? Freya?"

"This was a bad idea from the start," She mumbles, noticeably sleepy, pulling her hands away to rub her face.

"Okay, you can't fucking say that when we're standing two steps from my front door."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry, I'm just... I'm losing my shit."

"Well you need to get your shit together then."

Freya sighs, pushing a few loose strands of her hair back and then patting the top of her head to make sure her ponytail is still neat; she takes another deep breath, taking her suitcase again, "Okay, I'm... well I'm not gonna get any readier, so let's go."

I grin as she mechanically starts walking again- almost like a robot. I hate that I'm making her do this when she'd rather walk on legos or something, but even she knew she'd have to get it over with at one point.

"Do you wanna ring the bell?"

"Hell no," She almost shouts, when we're standing at the front door, "Shouldn't you be able to just walk in? They know you're coming, right?"

"That's the thing," I smile again, ringing the bell myself, "I told them our flight was delayed. That's why no one picked us up at the airport."

"Are you fucking insane, we're gonna freak them out, it's barely- it's ten in the morning, what if no one is home?!"

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing." About a minute into ringing the bell, I hear a familiar voice yelling 'holy shit, ma!' on the other side of the door. "See? Told you I knew what I'm doing."

A second later the door is being almost torn open by my brother, who doesn't waste a second before pulling me in a bear hug. So much strength for someone who just got out of bed because of the doorbell. "You fuckin' asswipe, scared us all to death! Swear I just seen dad calling me into the light!"

"Hope you told him I said hi," I barely get the words out, due to his hands still being tightly wrapped around me, not letting any air reach my lungs. "This is- oh god, my head's spinning, please don't ever hug me again. This is Freya."

I put my hand on her lower back and look over at her face when I say her name, remembering that even this might be too overwhelming for her. To think, seven months ago I thought there's no action or event that would make her flustered in the slightest.

"Hi, nice to-"

"Great to meet you, love, heard all about you from mum," Greg cuts her off excitedly, offering her his hand and a big smile- this is the person who threw a shoe at me the last time I woke him up. I was half expecting him to have a Kalashnikov with him now. "Let me take your bags, holy- I can't believe you're really here!"

"Yeah," I drag the word out, walking into my house for the first time after a year, knowing it's smart to have Freya walk in after me. Speaking of her, I'm not sure if she's quiet because she's shy or because she can't understand half of what the fuck we're saying. It's probably the latter, honestly.

"Alright, ma is getting ready for work and she probably won't have time for you gu-"

"Like hell I won't," A fourth voice joins in, heard from the top of the staircase- making all the color from Freya's face drain.

"I might kill you for this, but holy Jesus," I don't bother replying, instead just keep grinning at the small woman stumbling down the stairs, opening my arms to let her hug me- nearly as tight as Greg. "You almost gave me a heart attack! And you made me curse!"

"Good seeing you, mum."

"Christ, let me look at you," She detaches herself from me rather quickly, taking my wrists as she moves a couple steps away to get a better look at me, "You- well you're still dyeing your hair, no surprise there. You've lost weight!"

"What? No I didn't, I'm the exact same-"

"Don't give me that, look at you! Where's your tummy?"

"Wha- mum!" I yelp, surprised, batting her hand away from my stomach. Our flight might as well had been delayed, this is embarrassing. "Maybe I started working out, what do you know?"

"I know you well enough to know you didn't start working out, that's what I know," She mumbles, laughing, bringing both of her hands to my face to stare at me for another few seconds. Soon enough I see her eyes avert to something behind me- okay. It's starting.

"Uh, right, mum, this is Freya," I clear my throat, putting a hand on her lower back once again, as she quickly extends her hand for my mum to shake.

"Hi, nice to meet you. Sorry for the prank Niall pulled on you."

"It's all good, don't worry about it. So, you're Freya," My mum says, still having a smile on her face, leaning her head to the side, scanning Freya's face. "Niall told me you have curly hair."

I close my eyes, not even trying to do it subtly- she didn't even have to dig that deep to find something 'wrong' with her.

"Oh, well I straightened it because it's neater this way," She almost asks, "I... have Carrie Bradshaw hair."

"Oh, Carrie Bradshaw!" Mum says in a high pitched tone, recongizing the name. "Well, you just make sure I don't like you as much as I like her, eh? Will you?"

"I-I'll try?"

"Yeah, do that. Come on now, I'm pretty sure Greg poured us all juice. Or coffee."

As she walks away to the dining room, I can swear I hear her say "or vodka". Real subtle.

"Quick question, how much does she exactly like Carrie Bradshaw?" Freya mumbles, gripping my wrist when I start walking in the same direction.

"Hates her," I say flatly, "Hates the whole show, hates the concept of it. Doesn't understand how someone can write about sex like it's a normal thing people who aren't married should be doing."

When she doesn't say anything, I look over at her face. Her tired, yet anxious expression. How it's saying "I'm doomed" without needing her to say it out loud.

I don't doubt mine is saying the same thing.

*******

i've done some research in honor of writing the fiftieth chapter and came to find out that this book is about as wordy as harry potter and the order of the phoenix and i can now die happily knowing that i wrote something as big as the biggest harry potter book (and please vote and comment (jk rowling would want you to vote and comment (ily)))