Authors note- here you go! Another chapter for you guys. Please play the clip as you read, I quite like how the song flows with the chapter <3 what's been your favourite chapter so far?

Beaumont's quite a peaceful area when you think about it. Apart from the occasional petty crimes like robbery or vandalism, not much happens here. The trees are pretty nice and there are lots of parks that have great scenery to take pictures in but that's about it. There's not much depth to this town so no one can blame me for wanting to leave.

Pictures.

Whenever I think of pictures, I think of her. I can hardly hold my phone camera up without thinking about her.

I messed up. I messed up bad and I keep messing up.

I don't know why I keep doing these things to myself. I just don't know what to do with myself. I'm a self-destructing ticking time bomb.

Mamma keeps stuffing me with food. She thinks that food would somehow make me feel better but now I just feel sick.
Sick of being sick.

"Chin up, amore mio." She smiles at me, trying to force a bowl of Panna cotta into my hands. "See, I made your favourite." The familiar Italian accent that she never managed to shake off makes me feel all warm inside.

I shake my head, gently. "I'm not hungry Mamma but thank you." I kiss her on her forehead and she ruffles my hair the way she always did when she wanted to tease me.

"You know, when you were a piccolo bambino, you had these big bluey-grey eyes that took over the whole of your little round face." She laughs to herself, the smile lines around her mouth deepening. "But Tesoro darling... I've never seen those eyes look sadder than they do now."

She leans across the counter her own brown eyes full of concern. I always noticed how much Rose looks like her. "What's going on? Is there something you want to tell me?"

I think about telling her how much I want to leave Beaumont. I want to tell her all about how I lost the girl of my dreams because the girl of my nightmares decided it was a wise idea to kiss me.

I want to tell her about how much I wanted to meet my father, just one last time before I finally leave for Uni.
I want to tell her about rejecting that scholarship in Italy but I was scared of leaving the one person I managed to fall for behind.
I want to tell her about this stupid philosophy about love I created all because of that man that's supposed to be my father.

I want to tell her how it messes me up inside and how I feel that someone like me didn't deserve to fall in love.

But all that came out was, "May I be excused, please?"

After a minute of watching me silently, she finally nods her head. I know she knows I'm not being completely honest with her but she doesn't push it. She never pushes it.

"I'll eat it." I smile, trying to appease her. I take the Panna cotta and jog up the stairs into my painting room. Normally, I don't eat up here but today I make an exception.

It's been a whole month and a half since I last spoke to Harley. I barely see her in school anymore and when I do she avoids all eye contact with me and walks in the opposite direction. I've tried calling, texting, emailing, even dropping little notes into her locker and letters at her front door. Every mode of communication you can think of, I've tried and failed. She just ignores every single attempt.

I haven't given up yet but I'm running out of ideas. I just want to prove to her how much she means to me.

It's almost Christmas and I've been working on this gift for her. All the rough drafts are scattered everywhere on the floor.

It reminds me of the first time I brought her up here. Why does that day feel like it happened a century ago?

My chest starts to hurt just as it does every time I think about her and that look in her eyes when she walked away from me.

Crescent came out of nowhere, clearly drunk out of her mind, splaying her hands all over me and whining about nonsense. She wasn't talking coherently and she looked as if she was about to pass out at any minute. This was one of the things that used to irritate me about her. Anything she did, she didn't do in moderation. She just had to overdo everything. She wouldn't just get drunk, she'd get absolutely plastered.

I knew the only reason she had come to me was because her subconscious had told her I was somebody safe and I would always care for her... as I would.
So I took her aside and laid her on the couch in the living room where a couple of other drunk people were sleeping on the carpet.

I made her drink some water to sober her up and made sure she didn't choke on her vomit. That's when she kissed me.

As soon as she did it, I pushed her away and asked her what the fuck she thought she was doing.
She didn't like that. She got into one of her tantrums where she shouted and screamed about how I didn't love her but most of it was just drunk ramblings drowned out by the music.
I wiped my mouth. She was right. I didn't love her. I never will and I told her that.
It felt like acid had been placed there rather than a girl's lips.

That's when I bumped into Zachy and Sander who had apparently also seen the whole thing. We all decided not to tell Harley, which was a bad idea on my part because maybe if I'd been honest, I wouldn't have lost her.

I gather all the sheets on the floor and for the first time in forever I actually clean up the place.

I sit at my drawing table and begin a new piece whilst eating my Panna Cotta.

I start with those familiar pencil strokes and go over them with acrylic paint. It was like dancing but with my fingers. I release all the emotion that I had been holding in for so long onto this singular sheet of drawing paper.

I almost didn't notice Mamma entering the room.

"So, this is where all the magic happens, eh?" She says, holding out a cup of tea for me and admiring the art pasted on the walls.

I stand up and take the mug. "You're not supposed to come in here. It's my private space." I feel my face heat up. I have a strict policy surrounding my art room. No one is allowed in not even Rose. This is my space.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I'm just worried, you know?" She looks at me, forlornly. "You don't tell me what's on your mind, anymore."

"Because I'm not 12 anymore," I set the mug down and stick my hands in my jean pocket. "But I am sorry, I should be making time to talk to you."

"Is this the girl?" She asks, looking over my shoulder.

"Girl?" I ask.

She gestures behind me at the portrait of Harley I did months ago. "The girl you're in love with."

I almost choke on air. "What?"

"Oh, stop it. I was young once too, I know what heartbreak looks like." She squints at me suspiciously.

I turn around and pretend to tidy up my brushes. "I don't know what you're on about."

"You sure?" She raises her thick dark eyebrows at me as if to ask 'who are you fooling?'

"So, who are all these pieces of? Surely it can't be some random woman, look at how you've detailed them."

I blush even harder. Was it that obvious? 

I look around the room at the framed drawings I'd hung up and arranged. I will admit that there are an abnormal amount of Harley portraits.

I shrug, I couldn't look her in the eye. "Love is fiction."

"Is that what you think?" She tuts and shakes her head. "Love is indeed a story," Her expression softens. "But not every story is fiction."

"Were you in love with my father?" I was always apprehensive about asking. We've never really spoken about my Dad since he left when I was a child. It was like one day he was here and next he just didn't exist.

She sighs and instructs me to sit down. I sit down on the protective mat and she sits beside me, our backs edged up against the cold wall.

"When I and your father were very young, we were in love yes. But, that was a story that unfortunately had an ending to it."

"Why did he leave, Mamma?" I bite my lip and look into those sad eyes.

She stares back down into her lap. "I have never lied to you before and I'm not lying to you now when I tell you I'm not sure."

Her face is all drawn in and tired from all the night shifts and overtime she had been doing recently. I always praise her for how strong she is. It can't be easy raising two kids by herself especially when one has such a dependent disability.

I do my best to help her with Rose but there are some things that only she can do. She's the strongest woman I know but even strong people have weaknesses.

"Do you miss him?"

"I miss who he was." She smiles to herself sadly. "You remind me of him, the good parts of him."

"I do?" I don't remember much of him, only that he loved to paint. There was a painting of me as an infant that I found hidden in the attic when I was 13. I knew mamma had kept it there so I wouldn't see it but I knew it was his by the signing of the name 'Roberto Angelo Sorrisi' at the bottom of it. That's where I got my middle name from.
Parker Angelo Sorrisi.
I never told her I found it. If I did she'd never let me go to Italy. She'd probably destroy the painting as well.

"You do." She squeezes my hand and gives me a reassuring smile. "And do you miss her?"

I look down at our hands and without hesitation I say, "All the time."

She holds my hand. "Look, bambino, love may not always work out but it most certainly is real." She places her head on my shoulder and I've only just noticed how much taller I've gotten since I was younger. I practically tower over her now. "Just look at your grandparents. They've been happily married for 50 years. No fights, no cheating, no problems. Everyone is different but life is a journey and you owe it to yourself to at least explore it."

I nod. We sit silently sipping our tea and taking turns to spoon panna cotta into our mouths. I stare up at the ceiling and take in her words. She was probably doing the same. I know she's right but that nagging feeling in the back of my head wants to not believe it. If I didn't agree with her then I wouldn't have to admit to myself that I was in love with Harley.

But my brain agrees and soon my heart will follow.

"Don't stress it." She squeezes my hand again and smiles. "You're still young, you've got your whole life to fall in and out of love."

I nod again. I decide not to tell her about my scholarship to Italy. I haven't told anyone. Not even Harley. I will one day but for now, I'll sip this cup of tea with my Mum and think about how to get Harley back.