She felt like a zombie. A state of lifelessness occupying her. Staring out at the tall building opposite through the window, where the sun shone and highlighted every feature, her slow breathes were all she could hear in the quiet room.

But Wednesday's mind was something entirely different. Thoughts were firing off too fast for her to register, inundated with question after question after what had just happened. She sat there limply, failing to grasp at anything her brain was producing. How could she feel so hollow and yet so overwhelmed at the same time?

When she blinked, she could feel the dried tear tracks on her cheeks. As she took a breath, pain irritated her sinuses. Her head felt like a lead balloon, heavy on her shoulders.

"How?" she asked quietly, continuing to stare out of the window.

It was the only question she could muster. The only one that she wanted an answer to.

"How what, Wednesday?" Sade replied from where she'd sat patiently all this time.

Exhaustion wracked her bones and not for the first time that year, she felt utterly spent.

"How can you have feelings for someone and...and not know it?"

She turned her head back to Sade for the first time since she'd stopped crying. Her brows were furrowed, and her lips set in a tight line. She wasn't angry or hurt or relieved. She just wanted an explanation, some form of logic to explain the workings of her own mind.

Sade softly clasped her hands together, a small earnest smile coming up on to her lips.

"Our minds work in mysterious ways. Sometimes, we can be completely stressed and overwhelmed without even knowing until it appears as a physical symptom. Sometimes, people don't discover the childhood trauma they've experienced until later on in their life because their mind has worked to repress it. And sometimes, our minds unconsciously bury our emotions so deep within us, that we can't recognise our own feelings. The brain is a wonderfully weird thing and like I said, works in mysterious ways to protect us."

Wednesday looked down, not fully satisfied with the answer. Blood that had begun to dry was smeared slightly on the fingers she'd picked at incessantly, but she felt too much elsewhere to notice the stinging.

How could her mind have duped her into believing something that wasn't real? She tried to piece together moments, hints of the truth spilling out, wondering how she'd not come to see it for what it was. The kiss in Amsterdam played and replayed in her mind and it all felt so clear to her now that she knew the truth. Knew the extent of her own feelings.

Under those lights, with her heart beating so fast she didn't know what to do, and the need to feel him touch her. Feel him kiss her. She'd wanted it so badly and yet, she'd managed to convince herself that it was because of the alcohol. That it was only friends being stupid and reckless. Friends who didn't think of it as meaning anything.

She'd ignored the way his words had stung the day after. The words she could still recall as clear as crystal to this day.

'It didn't mean anything. We just drank too much'.

Had that been the moment? Where her mind had shut down any further notions of them together, to save her from a heartbreak that was surely inevitable?

It was all such a mess. Harry, her best friend. The person she trusted and cared for the most in the world. Only now, she knew exactly how much.

How could she even act normally around him now? What would she do, knowing what she now knew? Her 'normal' would never be the same anymore. She could feel the irritation at herself for being so oblivious settling in. Because maybe, if she'd just allowed herself to feel, she wouldn't be in the position she was in now. Pining for the man she called her best friend and boss.

"What are you thinking, Wednesday?" Sade asked.

She forced out a humourless laugh, rubbing her tired face. "I couldn't tell you. My head feels like it's full of sawdust."

Looking to the clock and realising they only had 5 minutes left, Wednesday shook her head, a dejected expression clouding her face.

"What am I meant to do now? How do I go forward from this, knowing what I now know?"

There was a hint of desperation in her voice that matched her inner panic.

In all honesty, it was a very good question. What the fuck did she do now?

"Don't worry too much about the future. For now, just allow yourself the space to come to terms with what you've learnt. Feelings, especially romantic feelings, are confusing at the best of times. Give yourself some time and try not to be too hard on yourself, Wednesday."

As the clock ticked over, the end of their session approaching, she was almost scared to leave. Scared to be left alone to deal with her thoughts. And feelings. Feelings she most certainly was not used to being consciously aware of.

Pulling on her coat and standing up, she looked back to Sade uneasily.

"I'm scared."

Sade's face softened as she closed her notepad, putting it onto the table beside her.

"That's completely natural. Being in touch with our feelings is scary. But you're going to feel a whole lot better for it soon." She stood up, tall in her heels as she walked Wednesday to the door. "For now, though, I think you deserve to go and enjoy your holiday with your friend. I know it doesn't feel like it, but you've already made great progress in your sessions with me."

Wednesday looked to her comforting face and nodded, her entire demeanour dejected.

"Thank you."

With that, she turned out of the room and down the hall. Once she got outside into the cool air, she wrapped the jacket further around herself and began to walk slowly to the tube station, her mind still overwhelmed.

And in a bitter twist of fate, it was like Harry suddenly surrounded her everywhere she went. As she walked past a coffee shop, Adore You faintly played through the speakers to her ear. Approaching the entrance to the tube station, a girl who thankfully didn't spot her was wearing a TPWK hoodie. And as she walked up to the platform edge, waiting for the train to arrive, her eyes landed on the large Fine Line poster on the wall opposite.

She closed her eyes frustratedly, wishing she was back in her bed and safe from the world.

As she made her way home, it was like she was on autopilot mode. So completely overwhelmed from the day's revelations that she felt numb. It was only as she walked down her street, realising that she was approaching her front door, that she snapped out of it.

Letting herself in, she leant against the closed front door, sighing out loud. For a moment, she just breathed, allowing a slither of peace into her mind.

It didn't last for long as her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Fishing her phone out with a sigh, her stomach dropped immediately as she saw the name of who the message was from. Harry.

She didn't even contemplate responding. Instead, she swallowed back the faint nausea in her throat and locked her phone, putting it back in her pocket.

How could she talk to him now? What would she even say?

"Hi, yeah I've been to therapy this morning and discovered I actually have romantic feelings for you that I've pushed down for god knows how long!"

That would surely go down wonderfully.

Kicking off her trainers and removing her coat, she walked to the kitchen and turned the kettle on. Turning to the wall, her fingers tapped on the counter in quick succession as she tried to wrap her head around what was happening.

She had feelings for Harry. Feelings feelings. For a second, she wondered how deep those feelings were, before quickly shutting the idea down. There was only so much she could comprehend in one day.

As she made a coffee for herself, she felt how heavy her entire head felt. She needed something. An escape. Her eyes quickly found the gin sitting on the shelf above her counter, but she realised that wasn't what she needed.

She needed to let everything within her, out. Physically.

Grabbing her mug and her phone, she walked into the dining room—turned makeshift music room. Her favourite room in the entire house. A mixture of music art prints lined the walls—there were some Bowie ones, Oasis, typical indie bands. But her personal favourite was the Amy Winehouse one; the background was bright cheetah print, with the illustration of Amy in the middle and weaved through her hair were the lyrics 'What Kind of Fuckery Is This?'. She'd bought it from Etsy years ago and somehow, it felt very apt in that moment.

She smiled at the comforting scene of her beloved drum set. The one she'd hauled with her all the way from Holmes Chapel. It was fully black, but over the years she'd stuck various stickers to the wood, meaning that now it looked very much unique to her. She knew she should probably go and buy a new one, but it held so much nostalgia that she couldn't bear to part from it.

Taking a sip from the mug, she planted it down on the table next to her and weaved behind the set, taking a seat on the cushioned stool. She looked down, unsure of what to even play. No songs were coming to her head, all she knew was that she wanted to unleash her frustrations.

And so, she did.

Bringing her hands up with the drumsticks in each, she banged hard. And repeated the action. Over and over again. There was a sense of rhythm to it, a basic beat. And then slowly, she began upping the pace. Increasing the intricacy of the notations. She felt that usual pressure on her upper body as her tongue caught between her lip.

It felt good, to play whatever she wanted to play. Sometimes, she wanted it to be lighter, with more of a focus on the cymbals. Today—she wanted volume. With the speed and pressure at which she was playing, it was a good thing she'd soundproofed the walls. But even though she couldn't hear any noise over the sound of the instrument she was playing, the screen on her phone lighting up still caught her attention.

Stopping as she slightly panted, she leant over and grabbed it, her brows furrowing as she noticed it was another from Harry.

Frustratedly, she put the phone back, this time with the screen facing down. She felt guilty, but it was a small price to pay for not having to confront her feelings head on just yet. If she heard his voice, she knew everything she'd discovered would be confirmed in full. And then there truly would be no way back.

Here and now, in her tiny little world of escape, she was safe.

She started again, hitting just as hard, if not harder. This time, she ran through a number of drum solos off the top of her head. Any she could recall. Black Betty, My Generation, Painkiller and more. She ran through them seamlessly, back-to-back, until sweat started to drip from her forehead and her arms ached. She didn't know how long she'd gotten lost in the moment, giving her entire energy to focusing on hitting the instrument.

As she rubbed the back of her hand over her forehead, taking a small break before starting again, her phone began to ring. Instantly her stomach dropped.

She tried to ignore it, already knowing who was calling. But the longer she waited for it to end, the longer it seemed it never would. With a frustrated exhale of breath, she picked it up, confirming it was Harry trying to facetime her. But as she went to press her finger down on the reject button, the clamminess of her hands meant that it slipped in her grip.

Her finger landed on the accept button before she could help it, grappling to keep the device in her palm. But a second later, the screen changed to show a face. His face.

She paused, her eyes widening at the sight of him. Her mouth opened and closed, panic invading her entire body as she looked down to the 'end call' button. Her finger was already moving to it, when he spoke.

"Wednesday, are you okay?" he asked, his eyebrows drawn together.

She swallowed, breathing quickly and ignoring the rapidly increasing beat of her heart. "Yes. Yeah, I'm—uh, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know, you just weren't replying, and you usually always reply in like a second, so I was worried." He moved closer to the screen, his eyes narrowing. "Are you working out or something?"

Her hand instinctively went to her sweaty forehead, realising she must have looked like a state on camera.

"No, I'm just...just drumming. Getting some practice in," she said, gnawing on her inner cheek as she gazed at him, slightly bewildered at the quick turn of events.

"Ready for when you make your return?" he asked, a lopsided grin appearing on his lips.

Her eyes dropped down to them, swallowing as she looked at their cherry pink colour before quickly looking back up.

"Yeah. Something like that."

Harry moved the phone closer to his face as his smile deepened. Meanwhile, she wondered what the best possible excuse was to get out of this facetime. Someone at the door? Call from her mum? Lady troubles? None of the options sounded particularly impressive.

"You're being weird today," he said matter-of-factly.

She cleared her throat, instantly defensive.

"No, I'm not. You're the one being weird."

Silence fell between them as Harry narrowed his eyes at her answer, the ghost of a smile still on his lips. She didn't need to be a mind reader to know he was trying to figure out what was wrong with her, utter confusion painting his features. It wasn't like she could blame him; she was being weird. She just couldn't tell him the reason why.

Just as he moved to open his mouth, someone shouted something at him off screen, making him turn his head to listen. A second later, he looked back to Wednesday, clearing his throat.

"Right, well I've got to go now. I'll talk to you later then?" he asked.

She nodded, forcing as normal of a smile as she could manage. "Okay. Bye."

Clicking 'end call' before he could say anything further, her entire body slumped back into wall behind her. She released a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding and with one swift movement, she kicked the bass drum in front of her.

"You absolute fucking idiot," she mumbled to herself, closing her eyes. "Fucking fuck."

Her mind, that for a moment she'd managed to settle, was now in overdrive once again. She was back at square one, with only one question returning to the forefront of her mind—what did she do now?

How could she continue on with their friendship as if nothing had changed? Better yet, how could she continue to work with him and go on yearlong tours with him, after this? Her mind was churning at the thought.

It still left her speechless, the effort her mind had gone to to suppress her feelings. As she thought back to the various relationships Harry had had, the long-term and short-term, she could see the indicators clearly now. The reluctance to discuss love lives with him, the distance she'd put between herself and any of the other girls so as not to spend any more time than she needed to seeing them together. In hindsight, it was glaringly obvious. She'd just refused to listen.

Anxiety gripped her even harder as she thought of the possibility of him meeting someone. Feelings ensuing. She clenched her eyes tighter together. It didn't even bare thinking about. If today's revelation had pushed her to the cliff edge, that would most certainly tip her over. The only way it would be worse was if she was there to witness it. Up close. The luxury of being ignorant and unknowing had been ripped from her. Now, she knew the world of unrequited pain she was stepping into. They'd barely survived the whole Daisy incident. What would she do if something similar were to happen now?

As she sat on the stool, letting her mind catastrophise every scenario that popped into her head, her phone began to buzz again.

"God, please no," she whined, almost crying in frustration as she opened her eyes and leant over, expecting to see Harry's name.

But as she saw 'Zara Almasi' pop up, she quickly grabbed it and swiped to accept the phone call, bringing it to her ear.

"Oh, thank god it's you," Wednesday breathed out.

"Why? Who are you avoiding?" Zara asked, laughing down the phone.

Wednesday bit her lip, wondering whether to say it or not. But before she could stop herself, she was already replying.

"Harry."

"You avoiding Harry? Something big must be going on for you to be avoiding him. Has he been shagging a band member again?"

Swallowing at the unwelcome reminder, she shook her head. "No, no. But I have got some things to tell you."

"Oh my god, some gossip. You know I love a bit of drama. Go on then, what's happened?"

Wednesday leant back against the wall, sighing at the hopelessness of it all.

"You've got no clue. Get yourself sat down, because I've got a story and a half to tell you."

/