May the 3rd, 2015.

The edge of my fingertips draws at the duvet on my bed before they crawl their way in an attempt to discover the body that is meant to be resting beside me. All the edge of my fingertips manage to find is the emptiness of the delicate sheets that were once warm and accompanied by Elise, but are now stiff and barren. I groan into my pillow while I open my slate grey eyes and blink a few times, glancing at the vacant spot beside me. I blink a few times, adjusting to the natural lighting that is striving to peek through the curtains. I take a few minutes to wholly wake myself up, the aroma of my mother's cooking satisfying my senses and gradually drawing me from the comfort of the bed.

I don't want to get out of bed if I am being honest; I would be content staying in bed all day and not worrying about anything, but unfortunately, that isn't how things will work out. I have decisions to execute; I have deeds to do, one of which consists of taking Elise out on a small date somewhere. She deserves something sweet. I haven't done enough for her this weekend.

I drag myself out of bed and seize a shirt from my bag before I pull it on and follow the scent of breakfast that leads me to no other place than my mother's kitchen. For a moment, I stand unobtrusively while my Mother and Elise's backs are to me, the two of them giggling collectively.

If you had of told me a year or two ago that I would wake up one morning in Holmes Chapel with my girlfriend cooking breakfast with my mother, I would have laughed so hard that I would have cried. I would never have believed this day would come in a million years.

I can't help but make my presence known when I overhear Elise laugh that adorable fucking laugh before she turns around and locks eyes with me. I wander closer to her and I raise a brow while I stand in front of her, the kitchen island the only thing separating us. "Hi," I grin, unable to control my smile before my Mother turns around and awards me her typical motherly grin.

"Look who finally woke up," my Mum chimes, "how'd you sleep?"

I lift my shoulders into a shrug, "So-so, what about you?"

"I slept alone, which I thought is how you would be sleeping."

I hum and playfully roll my eyes, "who said I didn't?" I cheekily challenge, watching my mother's wanderlust-blue eyes stare me down in a loving way.

She knows better than to believe I slept alone.

"I saw her wrapped up in your arms."

I hadn't intended to hide Elise sleeping in my room, the door was left open for the sheer purpose of my Mum feeling comfortable about Elise and me.

"That's creepy, you watching me sleep now, Mum?" I snicker while I wander around the small island. One day I will be able to renovate this house for my mother where she can have a larger kitchen with a 7 foot Grey Kitchen Island with White Quartz Counter Top. I seize a mug from the top shelf and Elise plates up food while I continue to think about the day I can fix everything. The day where everything will be paid off for my mother and sister, where the kitchen is filled with natural light from the large windows and skylights. I want her to have custom cabinetry that is topped with two-and-a-half-inch granite countertops; I want my mother to have the kitchen of her dreams so she can cook her fresh foods in. I know it has always been a dream for her to have a kitchen better than what she has.

"Harry, I am only joking, I don't care. Go wake that sister of yours up. That girl sleeps too much," my Mum instructs and I make myself a cup of tea.

I can't help but roll my eyes at my mother, she is the kind of person who always thinks that people sleep too much. She is the definition of a morning person. She wakes up at the crack of dawn on most days and she is continuously doing something— well, at least that is how she is on her good days— on her bad days she tends to rearrange the furniture.

I circle the teaspoon in my cup before I clink the edges of the cup on purpose to disturb my mother. I smirk over at her and she gives me her usual motherly eye that is a warning that I am not too old for her to scold. I shuffle towards Elise and wrap an arm around her from behind. I lean over and kiss her cheek, "good morning," I murmur against her ear, purposely watching while my warm breath on her skin conducts goosebumps to arise.

"Good morning," Elise replies with her mellifluous voice and I tenderly tug on her arm.

"We will go wake that pest you call my sister," I inform my mother, observing her while she rolls her eyes and disregards my comment.

My mother has never been a fan of my sister and me when we banter— which is all the time. We can't help it, we love to hate each other and hate to love each other. At the end of the day, we do love each other, our raillery is what keeps us sane and balanced.

My sister is a sassy pain the ass and I am an asshole, it works out well. My sister knows how to handle me and I know how to manage her, which is why I was the one called when she was drunk off her ass.

I lace my fingers with Elise's and lead us down the hallway, my free hand gripping my tea. I stop at my sister's room and I let go of Elise's hand. I knock on my sister's door, enabling it to creak open to reveal her curled up under her white quilt I bought her for her last birthday.

My sister had been going on and on about fancying a new quilt for her room. Gemma had hinted at this specific quilt that had elegant loops interweaved around circular tufts. I went all the way to Framfield just to discover the bloody thing that ended up costing me an arm and a leg, but it kept my sister happy. That's all that matters.

"Get up," I command, standing in her doorway, watching as she wiggles under her quilt and draws it over her head to disregard me, "don't make me open the curtains and take the quilt off of you," I murmur, amused by my sisters lack of interest of wanting to get out of bed. I don't blame her, I didn't want to get up this morning either.

"Fuck off."

"It isn't polite to swear in front of a guest."

"Elise, I am telling your boyfriend to fuck off, not you," my sister mumbles into her pillow and Elise chuckles modestly behind me.

"Mum wants us for breakfast, get up before she comes in here," I inform my sister before I shuffle to my bedroom with Elise behind me.

I close the door and she steps in, "can I talk to you for a minute?" I ask while Elise turns on her heel to face me.

"Of course, what's wrong?" Elise questions and I take notice of her vivacious eyes gazing at my tea.

I hand her my tea without thinking twice, "you always make it better than me," she grins, cupping her hands around the mug and taking a sip.

I hum and nod, more than delighted to share my tea with her— her wish is my command. "I know. I want to talk to you about the proposition from Jamie," I bring up the fact that I am still perching on a proposal to work in a multimillion-dollar business.

"Okay," Elise nods, signalling for me to proceed.

"I'm thinking of taking the job. I really need the money if I'm going to make sure my Mum keeps the house. Are you okay with it?"

"Harry, it's your decision, not mine," Elise answers.

"I know. But it's your uncle and you're apart of my life at the moment and I want to make sure you're okay if I take the offer."

I don't want to do anything that'll jeopardize my relationship, nor do I want to take an offer if I am only receiving the proposition because of Elise. It dawns on me every day that there's a chance I didn't merit this.

Elise grants me her typically sumptuous smile that I can't resist, "if I had a problem with it, I wouldn't have brought it up yesterday."

"You're sure about this?"

Elise stands from my bed and steps closer to me, "Harry, take the bloody job," she instructs, shushing me with a honeyed kiss to the lips.

For a brief moment, I think about how if I'm lucky enough, this moment will be a constant recurrence, me telling her about my intentions and her telling me to go for it. I can only hope that one day I will be telling her that I'm the CEO and not that I am working for a CEO.

Elise kisses my lips a few times, her enticing eyes luring me in moment by moment, making it arduous to resist her. I don't know what it is, but there's something tugging at me.

It's deep in my chest, it isn't a raging intimate desire that needs to be relieved, it's a longing fire that is in my soul. I can't seem to tame it or figure out just exactly what it is or what its purpose is.

Whatever it is, it's aflame, it's roaring and it has no desire to be tamed.

I tear my lips away from hers with a smile dangling in the corner of my mouth, "I'll call Jamie and tell him," I inform Elise and she nods.

"Good luck, I'll leave you alone for a moment," Elise responds. She kisses me one last time before she leaves me alone in my childhood bedroom to make a phone call that I can only hope changes my life for the better.

I take a breath while my phone stares at me in my hand, the contact of Jamie staring at me.

Even though I need to do this, I need to change how things are; I feel this anxiousness inside me. Perhaps it is the concern of a new beginning or maybe it's the suspicion of things not working out.

Seven rings, that's all it takes before I reach the voice box of Jamie Cartier.

With a swift breath, instead of hanging up, I leave a message for Jamie to call me back. I can only hope he calls me back so I can accept his job offer or for me to set a meeting in person for me to personally tell him, face to face, that I am accepting his proposition.

I wander out of my room and down the hallway to where my sister, mother and Elise are gathered at the table. Elise grants me a smile and her dreamy eyes study me up and down.

She's waiting for confirmation on what's happening.

I pull Elise's chair out for her before I take the seat beside her. "Any news?" Elise softly asks while my mother and sister are occupied with bickering over the table placements.

I shake my head, "no answer," I whisper just for the two of us to hear.

"Can I call him?" Elise endeavours.

I shake my head at her proposal, not wanting her to have anything to do with this. I aspire to do this on my own without her backing me and assisting me.

I can do this on my own.

"Please don't," I counter bluntly and Elise nods, accepting my request before she changes the subject and we eat a lovely breakfast.

❦❦❦

After my Mum begged Elise and me to stay the night and drive back in the morning, I discover myself relaxing in front of my sister, playing a game of scrabble with her with Elise beside me, studying.

"Have a glass, Elise. Might help you study," my sister chuckles, drawing Elise away from her study notes. My sister gestures towards the wine bottle in front of us and for a moment, I can't help but groan.

I know how this night is going to end, I can feel it in my bones.

Elise graciously shakes her head, "I really need to study," she replies, "maybe another time," Elise attempts to reason with my sister, perhaps not wanting to be impolite.

"I'll hold you to that," my sister nods and I stare at the characters in front of me.

I don't think it's favourable to play scrabble against someone who is an aspiring writer. I'm sure my sister knows more words than I do. I'm at a disadvantage.

Elise leans closer and kisses my cheek before her lips graze to my ear and she gives me an upper hand with the letters I have, telling me what word to play. I smirk to myself and Elise stands to her feet. "Did she tell you what to do? That's not fair," my sister points out.

I shake my head, "she didn't."

"What did she say then?" My sister questions.

Without thinking twice, I respond, "told me to hurry up and go to the bedroom." I am unmistakably joking. I would never tell my sister even if that is what Elise murmured in my ear.

There are things that stay between a couple.

"Oh, gross," my sister laughs and launches a couch pillow at me.

I catch the pillow and throw it back towards my sister, "I'm joking, she told me what to do," I assure my sister and she rolls her vivacious, virility brown eyes before she plays her next word. "Four points, you're slacking off here."

"Shut up, you know I can kick your ass in this game," my sister beams while pouring another glass of wine. Her third glass of wine.

❦❦❦

My sister proceeded to throw down glasses of wine and I felt it necessary to cut the game short; I could see my sister losing herself in the wine.

My sister follows me outside onto the patio where the crisp air of spring that has a cream fresh smell travels around me and fills my lungs. The moon is like a phantom-silver orb in the night sky and the stars glisten like silver petals; I can't help but notice how they appear to radiate a bit brighter than how they do back in London.

As I breathe in the fresh air my sister tears me away from the peacefulness I was granting myself. "Do you have a way to fix Mum's mess?" My sister asks me. I know I don't need to talk to her right now.

There are very few things that can cause me to want to shut down and crawl in a ball, one of them is the sound of glass shattering, another is how some peoples' personalities shift drastically when they drink. On most occasions, my sister is a felicitous, entertaining, laughing drunk, but lately, I know she has been resentful. Bitterness and alcohol don't mix well with her.

However, with her question, I expect nothing less; I'm starting to think that she only wants me up here to repair the mayhem.

I shake my head, "I don't think I can fix things."

I don't want to lie and get her hopes up. I don't have a way to fix everything right now. I have a lot on my plate.

My sister wastes no time with challenging me, as expected, "why?" her voice is dulcimer sweet but I am sure it is going to change in a few minutes when I tell her that I can't manage to pay what is owed on the mortgage.

I lift my shoulders into a shrug, "I don't have over £5,000 lying around, I can't, Gemma."

"So you won't help? Mum isn't working."

I shake my head, "I never said that. Don't misconstrue my words. I don't think I can pay for the house in time."

I glance at my sister and I observe her eyes shift from the champagne brown to a hint of devilry. "You live in one of London's best apartment places and you can't pay the house?" She's walking on a line of sorrow and outrage. Unfortunately, I am the one that is about to cop it all.

"Excuse me?" I raise a brow, a bit taken back by the fact my sister believes I need to resolve everything.

"You can't tell me that The Kings Gate apartments aren't a high luxury place. While you're nice and cosy in your apartment, we are in this house that isn't even being paid for."

Where I live has nothing to do with the fact that I can't fix every single intricacy of my mother and sister face. The only reason I live where I do is because I got lucky. I know the owner of the building and he gave me one hell of a good deal on rent. The point of me living in such a building was to keep my father away. I figured he'd never manage to discover me and if he did, I didn't think he'd be able to get through the lobby doors that are protected by a code.

Unfortunately, keeping him away didn't work. Hence the scar on my hand from that one night at the start of January.

"I'm not getting into this with you. Stop," I warn my sister, not desiring to get into an argument with my sister, not while she's intoxicated. She's easier to talk to when she is sober, as most people are. Don't get me wrong, my sister isn't an alcoholic, but recently, she has gone off the deep end and straight into an ocean of wines and vodka.

"No," she bluntly shakes her head, her stubborn demeanour coming into play. "You don't get to live this glamorous life in London while we suffer," Gemma gestures her hands around us to alert me to our surroundings of the house.

My mother's home isn't an extravagant mansion like Elise's parents', it's not a high-class apartment or anything, it's a small house that has worked for a single parent and her two children.

It's nothing special but it is still a home.

"You have some nerve," I mutter unhappily.

My sister does have nerve to make any criticisms. I've done everything possible to make sure she hasn't gone without anything. I've done my best to keep my mother and sister afloat and in return, I have continued to drown myself.

"You're not defending yourself because you know I'm right."

"No. You don't get to put this all on me, you don't get to run to me every fucking time something happens. I work my ass off to pay for all my things. Before you come at me, I suggest you take a damn look around because I'm tired of protecting and saving your ass so that you don't have to struggle."

My sister scoffs and rolls her eyes. "So I don't struggle? I help Mum with financial things. I'm the one that is here with her when she's upset. Half the time she's crying over you."

Ouch, she's launching my mother's emotional health onto me and blaming it on me. This isn't fair. I'm not the person who is in control of every single emotional aspect my mother and sister face. I can't fix people.

"I can't fix everything. I had to leave and you fucking know that. For fuck's sake, who paid your way through college? Who pays on your car?"

"That's none of your business." My sister's voice is laced with nothing but hostility.

"Like hell it isn't because Mum paid for your Uni and I'm the one who has been paying on your fucking car, I'm the one who has picked up the slack the last year and I'm the one who is expected to now pay the house." ... "let's not forget I pay for my rent, my car, insurance, groceries, school and I give you and Mum whatever is left over." I inform my sister who seems to have her head so far up her own ass that she seems to forget that I am the one who not only pays for my things but also makes sure her and Mum are okay.

"You don't pay for our—"

I cut my sister off, "I do, I pay for it, go ask Mum. Who the fuck do you think she calls? About the only damn time, she calls me. Why do you think she didn't want to tell me about the house?" I question, starting to feel the frustration brewing within me. My sister can't even pretend that she doesn't call me, too, when she needs some help with paying for something or if she simply needs my help. "Why the fuck do you think I'm up here? I didn't come up here just because I felt like a four-hour drive; I came up here to try and see what was going on and to try and fix things. Why? Because you fucking told me things weren't good."

I can't hold back my words. I want to, but I can't. My sister needs to be told that I do more than I am given credit for. I've kept quiet about everything for so long, I've allowed my mother to distance herself from me and resent me for leaving, all while also trying to maintain things financially. I've allowed my sister to get too comfortable without having much responsibility of things and in return I have dug myself so far into this hole that it is expected of me to constantly pick up the slack.

My sister shakes her head at me with a heavy huff, "you don't get to make me feel guilty for things. I try my best Harry."

"You just tried to make me feel guilty. Is that what you do when you drink? Make people feel guilty?" I ask, doing my best not to become an outright dick, but it is most definitely warranted.

"Don't change the subject. Why won't you help? Mum doesn't have a job, I can't fix things on my own."

I run my Fingers through my hair and heavily sigh. I should walk away from this argument before it gets worse, but I can't. I can't keep my mouth shut any longer. It is time for me to stand up. "She does have a job! You expect me to fix things on my own and pull money from my ass. I'm done with this argument. You need to figure out how to fix it. I'm done fixing all the problems and giving you a free ride," I bluntly express my frustration towards my sister who stares at me with narrowing eyes, frustrating crinkling her eyes.

"A free ride?" My sister scoffs, "says the one who is too much of a coward to step foot back in Holmes Chapel for more than a few days."

I turn around on my heel and my eyes menacingly stare at my sister who has taken a low blow at me. She of all people know why the fuck I left this hell town.

I step closer to my sister while rage hastens through me in more ways imaginable, "low blow... don't you dare bother calling me when he shows up again," I bitterly mutter out of anger before I turn and regard my Mum, standing on the patio with my sister and me.

My mother glances between my sister and me, there's no doubt in my mind she heard most of the dispute. "Harry, that's no way to talk to your sister," my Mum speaks in a hushed voice, "and Gemma, that's no way to talk to your brother."

"Your son is a selfish brat who cares about nobody but himself," my sister takes another blow at me. I know it's just the wine and the bottled up fury inside of her talking but that doesn't excuse her conduct and her words.

"Your daughter is naive and spoiled, I suggest you tell her the truth before she makes more of a fool of herself," I familiarize my mother, "where's Elise?" I ask my mother, stepping closer to her for me to reach the glass sliding doors.

"She went to your car to get something," my mum informs me and I overhear my sister laugh softly from behind me.

"Don't let her stray too far, H, she might figure out you're using her for who her Daddy is." I turn to glare at my sister who reminds me so much of my father when her lips have touched the taste of alcohol.

"You know nothing."

"I know her Dad, Conrad Cartier is a man you need to help you climb your way to the top of the CEO towers."

"I'm leaving," I gaze back towards my mother.

"Yeah, Do what you do best and leave."

"That's enough," my mother warns my sister, "you don't need to leave."

I shake my head, "I clearly do. I'd keep her away from alcohol for a bit, she's a bitch when she drinks," I acquaint my mother on the truth.

Don't get me wrong, I love my sister and will do anything and everything for her, but I won't be the one held responsible for her suffocating herself in alcohol to punish the pain that has been caused by other people.

"Harry, it's too late for you to drive back. Please stay. She doesn't mean it."

"Mum, don't defend her. Excuse me," I respectfully step around my mother and march inside. I make my way down the hallway and to the front door that is insignificantly open. I shift the door open and waste no time with exercising down the stone steps and making my way to Elise's.

I touch my hand to the car door as Elise is leaning inside, looking for god knows what. "What are you doing, love?"

"For Christ's sake, you scared me," Elise jolts and draws herself out of the vehicle.

"Sorry, didn't mean to."

Elise takes a breath, "it's fine. I can't find my phone," Elise familiarizes me and she looks me up and down, her languorous eyes observing every inch of me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I lie. And before I can do or say anything, I sense someone behind me. I can feel my mother's dreamy, bliss-blue eyes burning into me and I hear her walking closer. I heavily sigh while I gaze at Elise, "you said you wanted to know me, welcome to my family," I whisper before my Mum interrupts us.

"Harry, please don't leave," my Mother sighs, somewhat begging for me not to leave.

I knew coming up here was a bad idea, it always is.

"Mum, can we not do this?"

"Your sister is just upset."

"She can speak for herself, Mum."

"Can you please just stay until morning?" My Mum questions, attempting to plead with me to stay the night. It's late and I don't think it's a good plan to drive four hours home at this hour, I'm exhausted. But, I don't think it's a good idea for me to stay the night here. My sister clearly dislikes me at the moment and there's too much pressure on me.

"Mum," I lament, avoiding eye contact with her because I know I'll fall for her softened eyes and cave. "I need to go for a drive, I'll be back in a bit," I assure my Mum, reminding myself of my sister telling me how my mother cries over me. If I leave right now, I'll only make things worse, at least in the morning things might settle down. Hopefully.

"Please come back."

"'Mum, I will," I assure her, turning and kissing her cheek, gesturing for her to walk back inside.

I turn to Elise who has a bewildered look to her eyes. I don't blame her. She has no clue as to what the hell happened inside. I don't want her to know but deep down, I know that I can't conceal things from her. I see potential in her, I see her being more than just my girlfriend one day, so I can't keep everything a secret, even if it is at my own expense.

"You're not driving," Elise remarks and she refuses to hand me the keys, "you can give me that unrelenting stare all you want, you're not driving while pissed off. And don't even try to say you're not pissed," Elise comments, well aware that I'm not in much of a mood. Perhaps it's my tone of voice or perhaps it's my loam-grey eyes that give it away.

I can't help but snicker at Elise, she's right, I'm pissed, "do you want to talk about it or are you going to bottle it all in until you finally explode?"

"Why do I feel like you're not going to let me get away with not telling you?" I cross my arms over my chest, concealing the smirk dangling in the corner of my lips.

"Because it's not healthy for you to bottle it in. Come on, get in the car and tell me what's going on," Elise gestures towards my vehicle and she dangles my keys in her hand, "you're not driving, get over it, Styles," Elise smirks and for a brief moment, I forget why I was pissed off in the first place.

I obey Elise's demands and I settle into the passenger seat of my car, "you need to tell me where to go, I have no clue where I am," Elise comments as she backs out of my mother's driveway.

"Oh really?" I hum, becoming immediately amused as she side eyes me. "When you get to the end of the road, take a left and then you can decide where we go."

"Harry, we'll get lost if you don't tell me where to go."

"And would that be so bad?" I challenge and I lean back and get comfortable. Elise doesn't respond, she stays quiet. "I assume from your silence that you're not amused."

Honestly, the two of us getting lost and leaving reality for a little bit doesn't sound like a bad idea. It would be nice to escape the world.

"Your assumption is correct," Elise nods, "you can dance around why you're pissed all night long, you have a full tank and I have nowhere to be," Elise adds, making it known she isn't going to continue to allow me to bottle everything in. I don't blame her. I can only assume she is tired of being left in the dark, but in my defence, bottling things up is all I know.

"Mhm," I hum, more than okay with keeping quiet for a little while. I need time to process things and I think Elise understands that. I hope she understands that.

While Elise drives and hums to the radio, I discover myself staring out the window and appreciating the company of my own thoughts and the way the rain is beginning to fall.

I don't know what it is, but there's something somewhat therapeutic about watching raindrops slide down a glass panel. At first, the drops are slow and steady, tapping the window lightly before they gradually get heavier and heavier before there's multiple streaks down the window.

"Harry, what happened while I was looking for my phone?" Elise breaks the silence between us and distracts me from my gaze out the window.

"My sister decided it was time to blame me for the problems and decided to call me selfish and whatever the hell else because I told her I didn't think I could pay the house," I begin, "I finally said what I had been thinking, how it isn't fair I do it on my own. Elise, she's twenty-five, she can help. It shouldn't just be me. I've always had to be the one to fix the damn problems and it's tiring. I shouldn't put all this on you but I can't keep quiet. Why do I have to be the one to solve everything?" I glance towards Elise for answers to questions I know she can't solve. "Is it that hard for my sister to be the older sibling and do something for once?"

"You're not selfish for being honest about not being able to afford to fix everything. You'll have to pull 60-hour shifts a week to be able to pay it off in 8 weeks. That's physically impossible unless you get a second job to pay for your own expenses." Elise doesn't bother to sugar coat anything, she's straightforward and honest. I know the facts of how many hours I'll need to pull, I have done the math.

"What do I do? My sister thinks it's my responsibility, she's so naive," I ask Elise, needing some sort of guidance. I know I shouldn't drop it all on her; I know this isn't her problem to deal with, but I need some sort of clarity. My thoughts feel cloudy and I feel overwhelmed.

"Harry, I can't tell you what to do."

"What would you do?" I softly ask.

"You don't want my answer," Elise replies, keeping her vivacious eyes on the damp road.

"I do. I want your answer."

Elise clears her throat and grows quiet for a moment, "Harry, you need to take care of yourself and this is going to drag you down. You can't do this to yourself," Elise begins, "if I was you. I'd sit down with your sister and see what she can bring to the table in regards to paying the house."

"She can't bring much, that's why they've turned to me."

"Darling, you can't continue to light yourself on fire to keep everyone else warm. At some point, you need to draw a line. I can already see this is taking a toll on you," Elise's left hand leaves the steering wheel and her hand grabs mine, "you're already shaking," Elise points out what I have failed to notice. I didn't notice my hands shaking. Elise laces her fingers with mine and gives me a small squeeze, "you can't do it on your own, you and your sister need to come up with a plan together."

"Coming here was a mistake," I breathe out and for the first time my chest doesn't feel as weighted down and heavy. For the first time this weekend I feel like I can breathe easier.

Maybe I was stupid for coming up here in hopes I could mend the relationship with my mother and fix the financial issues.

"I don't think so. You're just tired and stressed," Elise comments and I shrug.

She's probably right, but I can't help but feel as though the second I go back to London, everything with my Mum will go back to how it used to be. Things will go back to her barely talking to me and resenting me for not being in Holmes Chapel and only calling when she really needs my help. As for my sister, she'll probably continue to talk to me on occasions but more than likely I won't hear from her for a week or so, especially considering our disagreement. "Things with your Mum won't resolve overnight. I don't know what happened between the two of you, but what I do know is that she loves you so much, I can see it when she talks about you. Give things time, Harry."

"This is how it has been for years."

"When was the last time you came up here?" Elise asks and I grow quiet for a moment. I know where she's going with this.

I haven't been back much since I left for University, my visits became less frequent when I kept feeling like my Mother didn't want me here. I felt unwelcomed. What was I meant to do?

"Been a while."

"Things will just take time, trust me on that," Elise informs me. I want to believe her and I want to trust her, I do. But it's hard. It's hard to believe in something when deep down you know there's only a small possibility of things working out in your favour.

I listen to everything Elise has to say and I take every word into consideration before I change the subject and learn to enjoy her presence and sweet nature. I'm so thankful that she came with me this weekend, I don't know what I would have done if she wasn't here to drive and keep me sane. I probably would have stormed out and driven back to London if it wasn't for her.

Like a lot of people, I wish things were easier, I wish I could get a break from everything, but I can't.

"Harry?" Elise draws my attention away from me staring out the window, again, watching the streaks of rain make their way down the glass.

I turn my head and look at her, humming my response for her to continue to speak. "Do you mind taking over driving?" Elise softly questions, "motion sickness is a damn bitch and the rain doesn't help."

"Of course, love," I respond, taking note of the fact we've been driving around for a few hours. She's probably sleepy and hating me for making her drive me around. My dumbass forgot about her motion sickness. "Pull off to the side and we can swap," I instruct and Elise wastes no time with pulling the car over for us to swap positions.

❦ ❦ ❦

May 18th.

I drag my exhausted body to my door and I overpower my hand to unlock the door to my apartment before I step in. It has been a long night and I want to do is crawl in bed and sleep for the next few days, but that can't happen.

It's finals week and I still have my job to tend to.

I'm striving to fit in as many hours as possible to pay off my mother's mortgage. I honestly don't think I can last a few more weeks like this until I am wholly operating under Jamie and not serving retail.

Brooks brothers only pay £9.15 an hour and they are only open from 10.am to 8 pm. Last week I managed only forty hours and that three hundred pounds needs to go for my utility bills.

This week I am scheduled to work 10-8 all seven days.

It's the dead period; papers, presentations, written examinations, quizzes, or final examinations are not permitted by professors. This week is meant to be for studying, instead, I am using it in hopes to bring in over £600 that can go straight to my mother's house debt.

I step into my apartment and at first, I disregard the fact that my lights are on and the apartment has a familiar scent to it that I can't quite put my finger on. I rub my weary eyes and shrug off my jacket before I notice her. I observe Elise slumped at my dining table with books and papers all around her.

I launch my jacket to hang over the couch and I wander closer to my girlfriend who has appeared to have used the spare key I gave her. I gave it to her when we got back from the visit to my Mothers.

As I step closer, I notice how her head is resting on her arm and her breathing is heavier than usual. She's exhausted. I can see that much.

I caress my hand to her back and I brush small circles on it, carefully luring her from her sleeping position, "hey," I whisper when her eyes flutter open and she lifts her head.

Elise clears her throat and swallows hard before speaking, "hi," her voice is coarse and I can only hope it is from sleep.

She blinks the sleep from her eyes and I shift a few strands of her away from her face.

I study her features, the way her eyes aren't as vibrant as they regularly are, how her cheeks are flushed and her skin tone is insignificantly lighter than usual. I think for a moment, unsure of whether I should say anything or brush off the fact that she looks unwell.

My silver-grey eyes flick from her scattered books to her eyes and back to her books. It doesn't take me long to realise she's wearing herself thin because of finals week, "think you need a break from studying."

Elise shakes her head, "I can't afford a break," her voice isn't sweet and delicate like normal, instead, it's dry and a bit scratchy.

I touch my hand to her cheek before I feel the warmth of her forehead, "you need to get some sleep."

"I need to study."

She's headstrong. I can give her that.

I raise a brow, not too delighted by her stubbornness, but in a certain way, I find it to be a bit of a turn on. She's astute and devoted to her studies, which is excellent. But the woman needs rest.

I know. Look at me, the pot, calling the kettle black.

"Sweetheart, I'm not trying to be an asshole but you don't look too well."

"I don't feel too well, but if I don't study, I'll fail my exams and I can't fail. Failing isn't an option."

"Neither is running yourself too thin and sick. Come on, get some sleep so you'll feel better in the morning."

"Harry—"

"Elise, trust me, you'll thank me later," I cut off her denial and I extend to her my hand.

Elise heavily sighs and she places her hand in mine before standing from her chair and allowing me to lead her to my bedroom. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was here, by the way," Elise comments the moment we reach the bedroom and I let go of her hand.

"It's no problem," I reply, stepping to my drawers and wasting no time with taking out a t-shirt, "here, do you want a pair of tracksuit pants?"

Elise shakes her head, "it's fine. Are you sure you don't mind me using your key?"

"I gave it to yeh for a reason, love. I'm curious though, did you come here just to study?" I ask, handing her the t-shirt.

Elise grows quiet and I notice her chewing on the bottom of her lip, "Elise?"

"Maybe."

"Mhm, can you try to say that in a more convincing tone?"

"Leah had a guy over so I came here. Kinda missed you, too. Haven't seen you in a while."

"I know, been busy as fuck with working," I sigh, somewhat feeling guilty that I have neglected my girlfriend a bit. It wasn't intentional and I know Elise understands.

There's only so many hours in a day and I can't fit everybody into them. If I'm not working, I'm studying and if I'm not studying I'm at my internship and Mr.Cartier has been a shave driver with me and preparing me for when I enter his company as an employer and not just a student intern.

"I know. Can I stay the night?"

I nod, "thought you already were," I smile before I kiss her forehead, "I think now is a good time to tell you that you can stay the night whenever you want."

"I don't like to impose."

"Hush," I shake my head, "you never impose. Use the key when you want and need to, you have it for a reason."

"Thank you. Do I have to ask you to stay with me?" Elise questions, seeming to read my mind when I think about taking the couch.

It's a force of habit, even though I know she is okay with sleeping beside me unless she asks and gives me permission, I won't crawl into bed beside her.

I nod my head, "won't get in bed unless I have your permission."

"Permission granted," Elise responds with a raspy voice that turns into a cough and a groan.

"You all right?"

"I'm fine," she nods with a raspy voice while I pull back the covers and finally fall beside her. It feels so damn good to finally be in bed after today. "How was work?" Elise questions and I open my arm for her to move closer.

"Work was slow, my internship is what killed me," I answer Elise while she gets comfortable beside me.

Without warning, I sense cold fingertips grace my arm.

"Sorry," Elise whispers as she notices me flinch at her touch.

"Your fingers are cold, that's all," I chuckle, allowing her to go back to tracing the rose tattoo on my arm.

"Any meaning behind it?" She challenges curiously, appearing to be intrigued by it.

"You need to get some sleep, love."

"Sleep is for the weak," Elise joked, "tell me and then I'll sleep," Elise bargains with me and I can't help but chuckle.

I think for a moment, I could tell her the truth or I could make up some ridiculous narrative.

"Honestly," I begin, deciding to go with the truth, "I had a few too many drinks and doing the typical thing, I ended up at a tattoo shop with some mates. While I was attempting to sober up and while my mates got inked, I came across a tattoo on the wall that made me remember something that felt like a safe haven. Quite literally, it was writing on a wall for me," I begin to tell Elise the night I decided I wanted the tattoo. Briefly telling her about a rose on a wall in a place in New York.

I remember the way the studio used to feel on Thursday nights, pleasant and peaceful, not many people got to witness the way it was in its darkest hours and in the quiet times. To me— it was beautiful— I spent hours with the owner, we composed a few songs, towards the end, he became more of a fatherly figure to me. He understood my thoughts and the way my hands moved across instruments better than anyone else. If anyone is ever fortunate enough to step foot in the recording booth, for whatever reason, he or she will find his or her eyes cast on a black wall that has a perfectly painted white rose on it. The rose on the wall is the same as the one tattooed on my arm— the exact same replica.

The walls' of the studio grasp more heartfelt lyrics than anywhere else— those walls' hold the character of others that will never be shared— they hold esoteric talent that will never escape. Personally, those walls' grip the part of me that I had to leave behind— the part of me that couldn't continue its journey with me here at University. The walls hold the thoughts and harmony of a seventeen-year-old who didn't have an understanding of the real world.

The tattoo on my arm is a reminder of who I was at the age of seventeen, it's a reminder of something I once loved. Some days, it's difficult to remember the admiration I had for music, it breaks my heart most of the time, but on other days, it's a memory I don't want to forget, a talent I don't want to lose touch with. Whether I like it or not, music is the soul of me, it has etched itself deep down and made a home out of nothing.

The tattoo is also a reminder of promise, hope, and new beginnings— something that roses are intended to signify.

In Greek mythology, a rose symbolises immortal love after roses grew from Aphrodite, the Greek goddess' pool. And in Tarot, playing cards from the 15th century, roses were adopted to symbolize optimism and fresh beginnings.

In 2013, when I allowed the Rose to be drawn on me and inked into my skin, I didn't imagine Greek mythology would have any sort of relevance to my life other than the rose symbolising immortal life. Of course, that all changed in September of 2014 when I became a believer of Zeus splitting two humans for them to come together and find themselves whole again.

According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.

Here I lie in bed with the 20th-century version of a goddess who has somehow managed to make me believe in the absurd theories of Greek mythology. I can thank Zeus and Aphrodite for having some sort of revolutionary influence on my life through roses and two souls coming as one.

The more I look at Elise and fall for her mesmerising eyes, the more I continue to believe that she is the other half of me. Call me insane, but I can't not believe that she wasn't the one I was meant to stumble across.

I can feel Elise beginning to fall asleep on me, and with every moment that passes, I have this urge to tell her what I've been thinking about ever since we were on the beach and kissing, but I can't. I can't tell her.

I'm in love with her.