Five years later

         "Thanks again for coming with me," I say in a low tone, clearing my throat as I walk past a few crying people. "This place is like a-"

         "Funeral?" Niall suggests, looking around quite casually compared to me. "I'm dying to see what the actual funeral will be like. Ah, I made a death pun!"

         "Niall, I love you, but that's really not appropriate." At least not right now.

         "Sorry," He says, shoving his hands in his pants. "You never liked the guy anyway."

         I shrug, feeling a lump in my throat when I notice the opened casket. The feeling of remorse washes over me as we approach it, and I grimace when I get a good look at the guy's face. I knew what he looked like alive, I mean, I had nightmares about him for a year straight, but looking at him right now makes me feel bad. All of a sudden I'd actually like to see him alive, with more color to his pale face and his blue eyes opened.

         "Hey," I greet him in a whisper, so no one but Niall would hear me. "Sorry about this. I feel like it's my fault, I wished you dead every day for the past five years."

         "You know what I think?" Niall starts, looking at Kirsten's husband but talking to me. "You and me, we have a weird pattern with men we hate. I mean, first I wanted Craig dead when I found out about all the things he'd done to Freya, and six months later, bam, he has stage four melanoma."

         I'm not liking where this is going. "This poor soul stole your girlfriend and, well, it took slightly longer, but the gym killed him. That's why I don't work out." I turn my head to glare at him, catching him with his head sadly tilted to the side as he watches him, "Too bad though, he was good looking."

         I roll my eyes and push him away from the coffin, so we'd let other people pay their respects."I don't get it," He continues- Jesus Christ, I hope no one brings him to my wake. "If she was so into average white men, why didn't she just stay with you?"

         "You know," I shrug, not mad in the slightest. "I've asked myself the same thing a few times too."

         I lean against the wall on my left, looking around. The sight of sad, crying people becomes a little too depressing after a while, so I point to the bar to show Niall where I'll be. As he nods, I push myself off the wall I was leaning on and make my way across the room.

         I ask for a glass of wine and look around, this time observing the house. If I didn't know Kirsten, I'd assume she married her late husband because of his riches. I mean, this is one really nice fucking house. Three floors, four bedrooms, and the furniture I'm seeing must be more expensive than her college tuition. If she'd stayed with me, she'd be living in a three bedroom apartment with my sister's family of four, nearly five.

         That reminds me - I really need to get my own place.

         However, as I'm looking around and thinking about getting myself something similar - only twice as small, of course - my eyes wander off to the balcony to my right and, a part of me, wish they hadn't. The other, more rational part of me knows I've come to her husband's wake, and that it was just a matter of time before I saw her. And that, when I do see her, I should go over to her and express how sorry I am for her loss.

         Sometimes I hate the rational part of me.

         Even so, I down my glass of wine, knowing I'd need the alcohol in my system, before starting to walk toward the glass door. Her back is turned to me, and I can't believe I'm seconds away from seeing her face again. After five years. I doubt she's changed a lot. And I'm not exactly sure, but I think I'm having heart palpitations already.

         I push the glass door open, making my appearance known, but she doesn't turn around. She's standing there, leaned against the concrete railing, effortlessly tuning out the world around her. "Hey," I decide to speak, after walking until I'm three feet behind her. I'm hoping it would get her attention.

         She glances over her shoulder, doing a double take when she sees me, her drained eyes widening. I did dress up for today, I must admit. My suit and hair are neat, unlike on her wedding day. I looked like a homeless person in a tuxedo.

         "Hi," She replies, her voice cracked and a pitch higher than I remember it; and she doesn't wait for a response before turning around completely, almost tripping on her long black dress as she stumbles over to me- into my arms. Just like that. Just like that, I have her in my arms again. As I'd assumed, she hasn't changed that much at all - her face looks as young as ever, her hair feels as silky as ever, the familiar scent of cinnamon and roses is really taking me back to the days when even my sheets smelled like cinnamon and roses.

         "I'm so sorry," I mumble, rubbing her back while she squeezes me tighter- it's ironic, but I've never felt more alive than now.

         "So am I."

         She pulls away to look at me, her eyes teary while my lips are parted at the last thing she said. "How've you been?" She asks, trying to force a smile my way but not quite succeeding.

         "Good, good," I nod a few times. "You know, living with my married sister and her family... being an attorney... close to becoming a partner..."

         I don't remember the last time I was this nervous around her.

         "So law turned out to be good for you, huh?" She says, with a smile that's bigger and more genuine before- me stumbling over my words might have softened her up.

         "Yeah, I mean, the salary is bigger than the one I would've had if I stayed an English major and... became a professor, or something." I grimace at the thought; I'm not saying it's a bad job, it's just not for me. Defending people in court made me realize I'm far too enthusiastic to sit behind a desk and talk about Hamlet.

         "That's great," Kirsten nods, getting my attention. "I would've felt bad if you ended up hating it."

         Oh yeah, because she's the reason I switched majors and moved across the country. Funny how she ended up marrying someone else.

         "Yeah, yeah... me too," I say quickly, before I could get too lost in the thought. "What about you? I haven't flown that much in the past few years, are you a pilot yet?"

         "Yeah, actually," She cracks a grin, "I work for Southwest. They hired me last year."

         "Where were you working until last year?"

         "Um..." Kirsten pulls her lips between her teeth, moving a strand of her hair behind her ear, "I actually... had some other kind of work to do."

         "Oh?" I raise my brows, intrigued. "What kind of work? If you don't mind me asking."

         From the way she breathes out and starts fiddling with her hands, I can tell she's nervous. What the hell, what kind of work did she do that it's making her react like this?

         "Well, it was about fifty pounds heavy and three and a half feet tall, it grew a little since then," She says with a small sigh- what? "I have a son, Harry."

         Her second sentence makes my face go blank - unlike the confused expression I had before she said it, which is probably why she said it. I'm cursing my own self for that. "Oh," Is all I say, blinking after a few seconds of just staring at her. "Uh, well... congratulations."

         "Thanks," She says, significantly quieter than before, noticing how shocked I am. Man, that really didn't come out as enthusiastic as it should have.

         "Where's he now?"

         "With my parents. They'll be here after we, um... close the casket and all."

         I nod curtly, almost forgetting the cause of the event I'm at. I never even made the assumption that she had children with him, the mere thought of her marrying him was painful enough, but now... she has a son. That couldn't be older than five. The thought of a boy that young having to grow up without a father is all it took to actually make me feel sad about her husband dying.

         "So, uh, what's his name?" I ask, regretting not taking another glass of wine with me from the bar. I know I'm at a wake, but I was expecting a less depressing atmosphere.

         "Conrad," Kirsten smiles at her son's name, "And Eric's last name was Roth."

          At first I'm glad I didn't bring another glass of wine with me, because I surely would've choked on it when she mentioned her husband's name; but I actually smirk as I come to a realization.

         "So... your son's name is Conrad Roth?" I smile, nodding to myself when she nods too. "I wonder where I've heard that before."

         "Yeah... if he'd had a daughter, he swore he would've named her Lara."

         I chuckle lowly and look at my shoes, remembering Kirsten's love for playing Tomb Raider, and thinking how convenient it is that she found someone who clearly loved that game as much as she did. And still does.

         She didn't sell me out because I wasn't that crazy about her favorite video game, right?

         "That's amazing, Kiki," I tell her quietly, still processing the actual fact that she has a son. "I'm happy for you. I really am."

         "Speaking of... what the hell?" She frowns, not really reacting to what I'd said; she's looking at something behind me, for a few seconds before scurrying past me in that direction.

         With a small frown I turn around, my lungs seemingly forgetting how to function when I lay eyes on the three people Kirsten is walking toward - one of them being a little boy. With tan skin and black hair. About three and a half feet tall and fifty pounds heavy, as she told me.

         Conrad. Her son. Her son, that grew in her and came out of her, God almighty, she really has a son.

         I raise a shaky hand and force a small smile when I notice the little guy staring at me; he doesn't wave back at first, but when I raise my brows in a questioning manner, he hesitantly lifts his hand to give me a small wave. I like him already. We're even dressed the same way, black suit, navy blue tie and everything.

         "Well..." Kirsten approaches me after a hushed conversation with her folks- who I doubt have even recognized me. "A little change of plans. He... wanted to kiss his dad goodbye."

         "That's what I always did before he went on a trip," The little boy chirps in, looking up at his mother, not seeming really that sad at all- although I'm pretty sure they gave him something, from the disoriented look in his eyes. Poor thing, how upset must a four year old have been to need tranquilizers? "And since he's going away forever now, I wanted to do it twice."

         That feeling you get, when you feel like your heart is literally sinking? Yeah. I haven't had that feeling in a long time. "Hey, come here," I say quietly and crouch down so I'm Conrad's height, as he walks over to me freely. "I know your dad's gone and that really sucks, but listen... if you, or your mommy ever need anything, I'll be here for you guys. Whenever you need me, you can count on me."

         I almost miss the nod he gives me when I take a better look at him; Kirsten has dark brown eyes, I know for a fact that her late husband had blue eyes - how did little Conrad end up having green eyes?

         "That would be nice," Conrad tells me, in an exceptionally polite tone, "I always wanted to learn how to play catch. I was too little before, but my dad promised me he'd have time this September, when I turn five. Do you have time this September, mister?"

         "Even if I don't, I'll make time for you," I smile, raising my hand again, now getting a high five from him. "Now, can I talk to your mom for a second? About something more serious than catch, you'd be bored to death."

         "Okay," He says gingerly, turning around and jogging inside the house, bumping into Niall on his way to his grandparents- more specifically, Niall bumped into him. Fuck me, he's already drunk.

         "Hey, so..." I stroll over to Kirsten, forcing Niall out of my head, "Conrad, he's... he's a pistol."

         She breathes out a laugh, "Yeah, you should see him when he's actually in a good mood, he's all over the-"

         "He's mine, isn't he?"

         I take a couple steps closer to her, while she widens her eyes and tries stepping backwards- if we didn't know each other, this would be a very creepy scene. "Wha-what? What are you-"

         "Don't give me that," I shake my head, my voice low and begging, "Come on, Kiki, those are my mom's eyes. And my eyes."

         "You're being ridiculous, of course he's not-"

         "He turns five in September, doesn't he? And you married Eric in March. That's a six month span."

         She stays silent and dumbstruck - as I'd known she would.

         "You were already pregnant on your wedding day," I almost breathe out, "That's why you married him so quick, innit? You were shtupping both of us at the same time and-"

         "Harry, I swear to god-"

         "-you had no idea who the father is, so you picked the one you liked better?"

         Good thing she decided to slap the side of my face that isn't facing the people in the house and the balcony. "Don't you... ever... come to my house and dare tell me something like that, do you understand me?"

         I can't blame her for reacting this way to my words, or for getting tears in her eyes, or for her hand shaking as she points a finger at me; even now, I know that I could've used better words and formed a better sentence. I'm actually not even sure what came over me.

         "I'm just sick of you lying to me," I shake my head, "First the thing with Eric, and now this? Do I not deserve better?"

         "I'm gonna have to ask you to leave," She says in a heavy tone, indicating she's for sure close to bursting into tears. "Thank you for coming, but... you overstayed your welcome."

         "Okay. Very well then," I reach in the pocket of my blazer, pulling out a business card. "If you ever decide... that you wanna talk about this..."

         She hesitantly takes it from my hand with a face that holds several emotions- while I'm thankful that I didn't say "if you ever decide to be a decent human being" instead. I've already said enough wrong things as it is.

         With that, I walk inside the house, mechanically dragging Niall away from the chat he was having with a blonde lady, at least a decade older than us. He already has an older woman at home.

         "What the- where we going, man?" He asks when he finally gains the balance he lost due to me pulling him away from his spot unexpectedly.

         "Home," I reply in a bored tone, squinting my eyes because of the sun as we leave the house, "I've had enough death for one day."

         "Oh, so I'm assuming the trip down memory lane wasn't that pleasant, eh?"

         I don't say anything until we're in my car, away from everyone. "She has a son, Niall."

         Humming is his initial reaction, as he looks out the window on his side. He's shit-faced. "Freya didn't wanna know the gender until she gave birth, but I would like to have a son, you know," He says in an unfazed tone, and if I weren't driving, I would be punching him. "I mean, first girl I was thrilled about, second girl was alright, but dammit, what am I supposed to do with three girls if my third kid is a girl?"

          To this day, I still feel the need to shake my head at the thought of Niall having two children, and another one on the way. Although I share a room with both of his daughters, so it's not that hard to believe anymore. "I think he's mine."

         As I'd hoped, my confession shuts him up. Thank god. "Wha... what? How could he possibly be yours?"

         "He has green eyes, my eyes. I know it sounds stupid, but I just... I don't know, I have a feeling."

         "Well is there like... a logical explanation to how he could be yours, or do you just want him to be yours that bad?"

         I hate how wine makes him a literal philosopher. "I... look, she got married in March and gave birth six months later. Which means she got pregnant three months before she got married. Which means she got pregnant during the last month of our relationship."

         When I get no reply, I look away from the road to look at Niall- whose eyebrows are almost on his forehead.

         "...Yikes."

         That's exactly what I was thinking.

*

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