Chapter 21.

Heavy Weather by Billie Marten

I woke up thinking I was alone and not understanding how much it would scare me.

I calmed down hearing his shuffling feet around my room and the softly pattering rain outside. He was trying to be quiet as to not wake me, but I was glad the noise he reluctantly made was as reassuring to me as it was. I needed to call mum, but I felt myself wanting to push it back, maybe wait until after breakfast.

Against my will I decided to call her right then, we'd slept in a long time, I didn't want her to worry. I was almost sure she was already. All of this I decided whilst pretending I was still asleep, comfortable now that Harry was in the room.

I felt a little peck on my forhead as I fluttered my eyelids open. He brushed the damp hair off my neck, a product of uneasy rest and a rather vivid dream.

I smiled, laughing because he thought I was asleep. "Well goodmorning." He raised his eyebrows, pursing his lips in a not-well-hidden grin.

"I showered, I hope that's okay." He said, pulling on the same shirt he slept in. "No yeah, that's okay." I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. "I need to call my mum." Harry nodded. "Maybe I should call mine too," he thought aloud, "it's been awhile."

I went to go outside, just now noticing that it was pouring outside. I smiled to myself as I counted the rings, but decided to stay inside. "Hi mum." I said. "How are you feeling?"

I talked to her for not as long as I thought it'd be, she seemed to be doing well. Luckily I was too, or I'd definitely try to act like it for her. She sent Harry and I well wishes, as well as reminders to drink a lot of water today. She asked a lot about H and I, per usual but I knew today she was following her routine of distraction.

"Harry she wants to talk to you too." I said, blushing. "You sound sleepy Darby what time did you get to bed last night?" She asked, her sweet, calming tone replaced with an unsteadiness. I knew she was alright, only worked up.

"About 4 a.m. last night, Freya." I looked at Harry with a skeptical look as he answered, "5 or 6 probably." I mouthed so that my mum wouldn't hear.

"You better be staying out of trouble, Darbs." "She is." Harry took it upon himself to answer again, which I found funny. He slipped a hand behind my back, which I'd come to believe was a natural thing for him to do, "Her writing is amazing, she's even helped write some lines on my album."

I covered my mouth. "Darby, what?" I heard her say. I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing exactly what my mum would say. "You showed him? You don't show anyone that, honey." There it was.

"To be fair..." I began, "I haven't shown him really anything for months." I stared him down with a growing grin.

"I have to get to work, Darby." She laughed, "I'll talk to you tonight, okay?" "Love you, mum." "Bye, Harry!" "Bye, Freya!"

I let her hang up first, "It looks like you've caught both of our fancies." I laughed softly, pulling my hair back with a claw clip. "I have work today, we'll have to get going soon." I immediately saw a text from Anna, as if she'd known what I'd just said.

"You can take the day off today, if you'd like. Pastries on me if you want to visit." I read aloud.

"So looks like we're having breakfast at Anna's and then have the entire day?" Harry questioned, he sat with his legs crossed on the bed. "I want to go back to bed but... good plan." I grabbed a stack of clothes and started to the bathroom. "I'll shower and then we can leave."

...

Looking at myself in the mirror was always an interesting thing. Ranged from dance parties to feeling like the human embodiment of a sloth. Though sloths were cute. I lived by that honestly.

Today I smiled, seeing myself as exactly who I wanted to be. I felt stronger than normal, like someone told my essence to knock down it's walls in the face of fear. That's really what strength is if you think about it. Being vulnerable takes strength, only the strongest are capable of serious open arms that welcome pain. Pain isn't a bad thing, it's a growth catalyst.

I talk about writers seeing the world on a spectrum of harsh realism and rose-colored idyllicism. I say I'm a dreamer. I only now begin to think that I could live up to what I've always said myself to be out of desire. Today in the mirror was a self-empowered symbol of growth with a bittersweet smile.

...

"Could you grab that book on the counter for me?" I asked casually. He held up the green leatherbound book that held every bit of my well thought-out thoughts. "Yeah?" He asked. "Yep."

"This walk is one of my favorite walks to... walk." I giggled. "It's so," I waved my hands in the air, "peaceful. All the people are always beyond happy. Down there is where I dragged you into the rain that one time." I pointed.

"Darby, I hope you don't mind me asking, but how are you so happy?"

I thought for a couple of moments, coming to a simple conclusion. "I don't know."

More minutes past as I waved at the one man that gave me one of his flowers once, as well as the lady that complimented my hair. "May I hold your hand?" Harry asked as I twisted my expression. "Why are you asking?"

"There's some... people. I can see them, not sure if they know that." I scouted the area as he spoke, only to find some people behind a car with cameras. I didn't look for long, but I scoffed at their blatent hiding spot.

"You may hold my hand, but I sure hope it's not only for the sake of the people." I joked. "Never." He laced his fingers into mine smoothly, I wondered the difference between this and just the pinky. I found it much prettier not to ask and to leave it at it's unknown sweetness.

I stopped right in front of the cafe to take in the view, it had stopped raining before we even left, but the tiny droplets stuck around and bits of light peaked through the clouds. I was sure, even hoping, that it'd start raining again. "Darby!"

"Morning, Anna." I smiled, opening my arms up wide to hug her. Behind my back I'm sure she was making faces to Harry, whatever they may be about. "Could we please have a blueberry tart and a lemon pastry?" Harry asked her softly.

I pulled out a seat for H, but he was talking to Anna for a couple of seconds more. "...better than I expected, I guess. At least today."

Once we sat, I pulled up a chair next to him. I nearly asked what he was taking about but I decided not to. Anna came with our breakfast only moments later.

"Lemon," She handed me a plate, "and here's the Blueberry." I felt her hand rub my back as she and Harry started to talk. "You have a great day, Anna."

"I had an idea, Darbs." Harry set down his pastry and looked me dead in the eyes. I raised my eyebrows, resisting the smile that played at my lips.

"I know it's... rainy and foggy-"

"I don't mind."

"I knew you wouldn't." I smiled as he raised his finger slightly. "I think we should go to the beach."

I made a questioning face, though I trusted his judgment. "Not to swim, just—"

"Just because. That sounds lovely." I reassured him and he gave a smile of relief.

"I wanted to this morning, to see the sunrise, and take Mitch and Sarah, but I forgot and we didn't wake up in time and-"

"We can go tomorrow morning, right?" I asked calmly as he was working himself up about it. "Tomorrow isn't..."

"It's okay, H." I smiled gently.

...

My father passed away a long while ago today. I wasn't sure how I'd react, and it scared me before just to wait and see. I think having someone care about me this much has, in a way, taken my flame of fear and diminished it like fingers to a candlewick. I never understood why it had to be Harry, but it did. My mother cared for me more than any other but it was out of a different love. It was so refreshing to feel like I restarted, changed in positive lights because of what's happened to me. Harry pulled those thoughts out of me, making me think that I was somewhat capable now of caring for someone else even. I could never see myself doing so, nothing except for completely fake people I'd see just once and create stories around. I never stuck around long enough to create connections with people? I'm not sure I ever even cared enough to, and it all rooted back to the way my dad left us.

"Tomorrow morning it is." He smiled, "But what do you want to do for the rest of the day?"

"I think I'm going to write." I thought about it, it was the only way I could cope healthily, honestly. To capture how I felt would be to help others that maybe feel the same, and that's always exactly what my mum would want me to do to help myself feel better.

...

Teeth by Billie Marten

"Here I just wrote down the word, 'Lemonade'" I laughed as if I didn't know why I'd written that. I knew full well that I had found myself comparing the sweetness of a moment and the sour incoming of facing emotions to lemonade. Harry laughed as he shuffled around the room doing nothing that was apparent to me as I read pieces of my journal.

"Oh oh, one from the other day, I think just yesterday actually." I looked up at him after flipping to the page. His anticipating smile grew larger as I read it over and over again in my head.

I'm giving you my heart with whimsically illusoric expectations to heal it

Giving you my lips to kiss them into existence

Living sentiment into our stories

Drawing your ears just to speak my secrets

"I'm pretty sure I made up a word in this one." I giggled, emptying the uncertainty in my head. As I slowly read it, I kept looking up at him here and there, just to catch his reaction.

"You keep looking at me as you read, why is that?"

"I'm nervous, is all. I want to see how you felt about it also." I grinned cheesily, letting my nerves build up into innocent shivers.

I finished reading the last line, it was short but I separated the lines with the looks in between. "It doesn't sound finished?" He said.

"It doesn't?"

"It feels like it deserves an ending, don't you think?" "I'm not sure what you mean." I blushed, embarrassed slightly. He let it go, but I set out to find the words that belonged to it's apparently destined ending.

I wrote for a while silently, letting my fury come out maturely and my sadness seep through sweetly. I knew H was just fiddling around and I had pretty much left him with himself while I was off in another mindset. I heard bits of guitar here and there, and though he was in the same room, he knew to leave me with my writing for just a bit.

I think back like it's the footsteps following my every move. It isn't fair to them or her to him or me but you still haunt every inch of me as though a shadow.

I will never give you that power, but I refuse to let anger be the roots of me. I'll pull every one from the ground with every ounce of my strength, carefully catching my balance. Anger only gives hold to fear and weakness, and I know because of you that that is not Me.

"That might be too much..." I mumbled. The guitar stopped, I watched his eyes shoot up from his fingers on the fretboard to me. "I shouldn't be writing out of anger, he was a good person."

"How could it be too much if it's how you feel."

"It's kind of hard to know how I feel. I've had years to figure out, yet nothing's changed." I watched longingly as he began to play a small melody. I could tell it was so natural to him that he was still paying every bit of his attention to me.

"I understand that. I'm sorry."

"There isn't much left I can do when I can't even write down how I feel." I shrugged, feeling virtually nothing but confused emptiness.

"Are you doing alright, Harry?" I ask him after a couple thought-out moments

"Yes, Darbs, I am." He smiled directly at me.

"Is it bad that I find it difficult to believe you?" I said skeptically.

"Not necessarily, I wasn't speaking the full truth, but it's not needed right now."

"No... no I need you to be okay please." I said it firmly, leaving my thoughts behind. It was all him in my head now and though I was worried it was quite a lovely distraction.

I moved to him on the other couch, he just sat there still with a melody-less guitar in his lap. This has been hard on him as it has been me. I didn't know if it's because he couldn't bear seeing me like this or something else, that was the most concerning to me.

"You aren't okay, Harry"

"No, you aren't okay." He said, justifying his reason to be there for me.

I took my hands and placed them gently on his cheeks, bringing his head down to mine and resting my forehead on his. "For us to be able to work, I need to help you as much as you do me."

His father had passed too. From cancer, only a couple of years ago. I could've blamed my unknowing mind on selfishness, but I only felt comforted. He was worried about me more than I could ever comprehend, because he knew how I felt. It was in June, that is what sparked my tears. "You didn't tell me I- I would've helped you..."

"It's alright, Darby." But I could only now think about the excess pain I caused him. It wasn't until I fell asleep on the couch after crying softly next to him that I began to feel okay again. He stayed until I was asleep and then left quietly. He refused to leave until I was okay and fast asleep.

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