Stella knew.

Stella didn't realize just how deafening the silence in the room was as she strolled towards her brother's desk, to set down two cups of coffee. My eyes were laser-focused on the fluffy white carpet beneath my feet, but I could still feel her gaze as it bounced from me to Harry a few times before she walked out. I could thank their apparent annoying-older-brother-annoying-little-sister relationship that she didn't ask what was happening, or pry otherwise.

But oh, Stella definitely knew something was up.

Harry stood up from his bed, which attracted my attention; I watched him saunter after she'd left and lean his hand on the door, checking if it was closed all the way. He turned around but didn't meet my eyes immediately, "That's..." He spoke to the ground, "One hell of a suggestion."

At least he was past the denial stage. "Yep." I nodded, also at the floor. The agony of looking at him was unyielding, but someone had to get this show on the road. "So, thoughts?"

His blue eyes met mine and a whole new layer of sweat overcame my hands. One good thing I immediately noticed was that his face showed no hostility or anger—shock and wariness, sure, but not like he was going to call the police for harassment. "So you're serious?"

"...I know we've mostly been monkeying around with each other, but I wouldn't joke about your health."

"Ha, yeah, true. Uh..." He closed his mouth after struggling for a few seconds, and shrugged. "I don't... Man, you really... threw me a curveball there." The floor beneath his feet creaked loudly as he finally moved from his cemented spot, and sat back on the bed across from me, "But I don't think it's a good idea."

I couldn't lie, it wasn't a good feeling. But I had enough common sense to expect that answer and not show any sorrow. "Yeah, I thought you'd say that."

"Yeah. I'm sorry, I... just don't know you like that."

"...Fair." The increasingly longer awkward silences were my cue to leave. "Well, I should... I'm sorry about this, I should go."

"You can stay and finish your coffee."

I looked at the cup by my side and didn't have the heart to tell him that I'd had such a nauseating night that even the smell of coffee made me sick. "That's alright, I didn't really sleep well last night. Might as well catch up on it."

"I hope this wasn't the reason for it."

The words came out of Harry's mouth right as I was about to stand up and they stilled me in my spot; I looked him over and raised my brows, "What, the thought that I would come and propose marriage to a guy I've spoken to one and a half times?"

"See, even you realize how bananas the whole thing sounds."

"...Yeah." Weak huffs of laughter filled the room for a second, mine mostly to hide how stupid I felt, before we both looked at our respective laps. This time I straightened out my shirt and got up from the chair, Harry standing up right after me; I squeezed my hand into a fist, taking a second and a half to make a decision before turning to him again, "At the risk of sounding even more bananas... if you change your mind, I'll be here."

Harry frowned through a smile and looked down, "What, you're not gonna find someone else to give this great hope to?"

"...What?"

"I mean, since your roommate is a nurse and everything. You can take your pick."

My mouth opened and closed a few times, the explanation confusing me more than what he'd initially said. "I'm not... gonna go around asking people to marry me, Harry."

"Did I make the shortlist and you selected me?"

His tone was light and teasing, but I wasn't really sure how to take what he was saying to me. At best, he was doing what he'd done every time and it was all in good fun; at worst, he was mocking me. "I don't understand where this is coming from."

"I don't understand where you came from."

My guess was that he was leaning more toward the at worst. "I'm sorry if offering help offended you, I said it right at the beginning that–"

"I'm not offended, I'm just a little confused that... you would come to me with this offer. We don't know each other, and you... seem to think I'm completely helpless." I took a breath, but opted to close my mouth and not remind him of how he'd told me about his girlfriend being his last shot. Maybe he'd said it on impulse and I was the world's biggest idiot. "I have a lot of family and friends that are there for me. I'm not a charity case."

"And I didn't mean to make you feel like one."

"You kind of did."

I gulped despite my dry throat, and used scratching my forehead as a chance to look away from his freezing, freezing eyes. "I only wanted to help. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, it's..." He dropped his arms that had been folded over his chest with a shrug, his hands rubbing over his shirt before he put them in his pocket, "Don't worry about it."

He was looking away, and I took it as a chance to pad across his room to the door, running away from the most venomous ambiance I'd experienced in a long time. Much like while I was at his front door, I was mouthing 'Oh my God' to myself while approaching his bedroom door as well. Pulling it open I was met with the sight of Stella, holding a rag in front of the full-length mirror in the hallway; her expression was neutral apart from her eyes being a little wide, probably from being startled by the strange clown woman coming from her brother's room. I gave her a tight smile which she somewhat returned, and walked over to my sandals. I stood up straight after pulling them on and saw Stella still looking at me and Harry... well, Harry's door was closed at this point. That's the end of that friendship.

"You're leaving?"

I was surprised when the girl spoke to me, and I regarded her with more confusion than necessary, seeing as I'd just put on my shoes and all. With her question came a slight pout that I was sure she was unaware of, and slightly raised brows. God, she'd probably heard... at least half of what had gone on in that room. Whatever. I didn't care. I was leaving and not seeing her or anyone from her family ever again. "Yep." I smiled once more at her. "Thanks for the coffee."

Before she could say anything, I directed my attention to letting myself out. I heard a faint 'bye' and forced myself to glance her way and give a small wave, before shutting the door after myself. I wished I could've handed her this whole tragedy to pack in a box and throw it out of her plane to Colorado.

Whatever. At least I was getting some sleep soon.

○○○

It was a warm, loud Friday evening when Violet's friend picked up my buzzing phone from the table. I rolled my eyes from across from her as she watched the screen, not telling me who it was but instead sipping on her fourth glass of white wine.

"You want a drum roll or something?" I shouted over the music, kind of regretting that I wasn't the one playing it anymore since the call would have silenced the entire room and I would've actually been able to answer it.

"What? Oh, sorry, I saw numbers instead of letters and my mind blanked."

"Numbers?" I got up from my comfortable seat in Violet's bean bag—which immediately got taken by another one of her friends, regrettably—and walked over to Rachel to take my phone before it somehow ended up in her glass of wine. Something in her glassy eyes told me that would be its fate if I didn't act on it soon. "Give me that."

"Huh? Oh."

I shook my head as I took my phone from her hands, almost laughing at how her drunken state had made it the most interesting thing her eyes had ever seen. One thing she was right about—it was an unknown number, so no name popped up on my screen. I left the folks at the dining table, passed by the ones on the couch that I'd sat with before Rachel had given me a shot of anxiety by picking up my phone, and locked the door of the bathroom behind myself. I concluded the quietest room in the apartment was quiet enough for a phone call, and cleared my throat. "Hello?"

"Evie?"

"Yes, this is she."

"This is Stella."

The foot I was drawing random shapes on the floor with came to a halt, and I looked up at nothing in particular; the trivial amount of alcohol in my system had been helpful with not making me stressed about getting a call from a stranger right up until that moment. "Stella?"

"Harry's sister."

"Hi, Stella." I tried smiling as I spoke, the production of sweat on my palms now boosted, "Uh, what's up?"

"Um, I just wanted to tell you- I talked to Harry and he actually thinks your plan is a good idea."

The initial sensation was that being outright shoved could not have made me fall flat on my ass the way that sentence could've. If I'd been a little more drunk. And naive. In reality, after the first wave of shock subsided within a moment or two, I squinted my eyes, "He does?"

"Yes."

"You convinced him?"

"I did."

Laughing would definitely be rude, so I pulled my lips between my teeth and waited another few seconds to collect myself. So she'd heard our talk. And she had heard him say no. And like any worried family member or friend, she was desperate and wanted the quickest, most effective fix. She didn't realize that had Harry really changed his mind, she would've sounded happy out of her mind, not nervous as hell. "Can I speak to him?"

Oh, yeah, she also didn't seem to think he would've been calling me himself to tell me he'd changed his mind. That number would not have been unknown and I would've been going through hell trying to get away from Violet's drunken squeaking and screaming about Harry - Communications Law calling me.

"He's-he's not feeling good right now," She informed me, and I nodded at the blue tiles above our bathtub, like the inanimate object and I had both had the same idea, "So he... laid down for a bit. But he told me to ask if you could come over."

"Come over?"

"Yeah."

Stella also was not aware of Harry's feelings toward public transportation. "Look- I feel for you, but I don't want to make him even more uncomfortable than I already did, alright?"

"Evie–"

"In fact, the whole thing was insane and shouldn't have happened. So just, lose my number. Please. I don't want any more trouble over this."

"Evie, please." The sound of sudden crying was so baffling, it made me forget to hang up. "Please at least hear me out- he's supposed to start his treatment again next week, but if he has to wait for insurance then they'll have to postpone his therapy, and the therapy doesn't work well if it's not taken on time. I know he's a stubborn jackass and would never admit it, but we don't have anything better than your offer."

At this point most of my emotions from that sleepless night before the morning encounter were brought back, in full force, enhanced by the alcohol I'd consumed. I didn't have the heart to tell this poor girl—who just kept crying progressively harder—that everything she said was none of my business, even though her brother had made it crystal clear the other day. I sat down on the closed toilet lid, my forehead in my hand and my heart in my throat once again.

Over the week, I'd successfully managed to stick the Harry Moran case in a box in my head and shove it in the attic, along with the rest of life's presents that I never wanted to open again. And then, in a span of a minute, that box grew arms and legs and was tearing down the attic. Tearing down the whole house.

But I had to stand my ground.

"Are you still there?"

"...Yeah."

"Listen, I'm sorry about this, I'm sorry for calling you but he's my brother and I have to do everything I can if there's even a small chance he gets the medicine he needs on time."

"I know."

"Even if it's bothering people I don't know."

"I... totally get it."

"And I'm only seventeen, and all of my friends are seventeen, and I can't ask any of them to marry him."

If I rubbed my temples any harder, there was a chance I accidentally take myself out. "I get it, you're just looking out for your brother." I pressed my lips in a tight line, "I'm so sorry. About everything he's going through, and your whole family with him. I wish I could help."

"You can! Just come over and we'll convince him together."

I couldn't not admire the determination of the teenager. "I... really can't do that."

"No, listen, I have a plan–"

A loud bang on the door almost made me yelp into the phone; it also acted as a kind of a lifeline, because I was absolutely not getting myself into some clownery with a seventeen-year-old. "Look, Stella, I have to go– please just be there for Harry. That's the most I can say and I won't be doing anything without his explicit say-so. You obviously love him very much and he needs you there with him."

"No- Evie, please–"

"I'm sorry about everything but I gotta go, now. Bye, Stella."

I took a deep, loud breath to block out any reply she might have had until I was sure the call was over.

○○○

Saturday, 1 July

03:44

From: Harry - Communications Law

Think we could meet up in the near future?

03:45

From: Harry - Communications Law

I'd like a do-over of that coffee