H.

"Harry?" Mum called far too brightly as she wandered into my room wearing that horrid pink floral skirt I'd told her I hated a countless amount of times.

"What?" I grumbled, eyes not shifting from the window as I remained curled up on the window sill, desperate to be left alone. Whose idea was it to give the old bat a key?

"Are you still coming for dinner tonight? Oh, bloody hell - what a mess in here!" she exclaimed, grabbing my duvet and making my bed neatly in a typical mother-fashion, "Why are these pillows all over the floor?"

I ignored her question, swinging my legs over the edge of the window sill so I could face her, "Why would I be coming to dinner tonight?"

She finished placing the pillows back at the top of my bed, tutting as she folded her arms, "You promised you'd come tonight to meet Benjamin."

I scoffed, running a hand through my unkempt hair, "Not a fucking chance."

"You promised," she frowned, glancing over to my nightstand and laying eyes on the whiskey bottle, "have you been drinking again?" Oh God - I knew I-"

"There's like, two sips gone from it, Mum, so clearly I haven't," I snapped, jumping down from the window sill, "I didn't make any promises; I certainly didn't promise to meet your stupid boyfriend," I huffed.

"Please, darling," she sighed sadly, walking over to me and placing her hands on my bare shoulders, "You really did promise me. You've avoided this for months now."

"No shit," I pushed her hands from me, my eyes landing on the mirror on the wall as my features curled into a scowl. I looked a right state - my hair was messy and dishevelled - in fact, my entire face was. My eyes had dark circles underneath them, but what would you expect having not slept for days and weeks on end? My lips were dry, and cracked; dry blood on them as I often pulled the bottom one between my forefinger and thumb; an annoying habit that only irritated them more. My skin was pale; not only my face but my body too; the black ink against the near-white skin an unfamiliar sight - I was used to a tan of some kind.

"You haven't slept again, have you?" she asked cautiously, her eyes glassy.

"Shut up, Mum," I said a little too sharply, watching her face fall from behind me in the mirror as I sighed, running my hands through my hair, "M'sorry."

She nodded slowly, "You don't have to come to dinner tonight if you really don't want to."

I groaned internally, gritting my teeth, "No, it's fine. I'll be there at eight."

"Seven," she corrected me, placing her hand on my shoulder from behind me as I remained in front of the mirror, "Thank you, Harry. Benjamin is lovely, I promise."

"Mmhm," I grumbled in response, trying not to think about this Benjamin too much, because I knew if I did I'd end up backing out of dinner again.

"Now go take a shower, yeah? I really do appreciate it, darling," she assured me, heading towards the door and glancing back at me, "I love you."

I bit my lip, opening my mouth to speak before closing it again. I nodded slowly, and with that she turned and left the room, and I then heard the front door close moments later.

I didn't bother putting on a shirt as I wandered into the kitchen, taking full advantage of the fact that Liam was at school. I knew I should be too, but I didn't care to go. School and I didn't fit well together. I'd never liked it; but returning to the very same bloody school I'd left five or so years ago to complete my final year didn't seem particularly appealing to me. I'd gone back; yes. I did as my Mum had asked and attended the school from the week after we arrived, and I'd gone every single day from then to the end of April. But I had my limit, and seeing the snobby guys who wore too much hair gel and the girls covered in fake tan who would get their tits out if you so much as looked at them. I'd been tugged into a janitor's closet about four times in the past six months - each time resulting in a rather impolite decline on my behalf. It made my skin crawl.

I grabbed the box of poptarts from the cupboard, pulling out the last two and tossing the box aside. I ripped the plastic open - yep, they were stale as fuck. I wrinkled my nose a little, wondering when Liam had last gone shopping - we'd eaten Chinese the past two nights, and leftover pizza anytime in between, and I certainly didn't do any kind of weekly shop.

I shoved them into the toaster all the same, leaning back against the counter and resting my palm on the surface while fishing for my phone in my back pocket. I grabbed a cigarette, too - lighting it with ease and bringing it to my lips. I pulled my phone out, unlocking it quickly. It was near 3PM, meaning it was about 8AM in Seattle - she would be awake and on her way to school, now.

I bit my lip, swiping across the pages to open my Instagram app, immediately landing on my own page. I blew out a deep breath, my posts all dating back to December and even further back. I scrolled to one of my first posts, from the Christmas before last - a picture of my sister, Gemma, and I that Mum had snapped mid-drink and game of scrabble when she'd come to visit us in Seattle. I didn't see her much either - she was often about travelling god knows where; something about 'absorbing the foreign culture' - something I didn't care to do. Especially not with someone as annoying as my sister.

I knew she was back in Manchester with her current boyfriend, having arrived back from her previous retreat in India only days ago - she'd sent me a text to let me know, which I hadn't replied to. I was more than certain she'd be at dinner tonight - she wouldn't miss the chance to grill me since she hadn't seen me since well over a year now.

I took another drag of my cig before scrolling to my most recent post, dated to mid-December - a picture of her and I. Her dark brown curls were blowing into her face, as a bright smile was plastered on her face - my chin was cupped in her palm as our faces were pushed together, my eyes squeezed shut as I grinned equally as wide as she did. I remembered when she'd snapped the picture, her eyelashes covered with a thin layer of snow - we'd taken great advantage of the few days of snow we'd gotten, and I'd tossed a large snowball in her face, much to her despair. She'd insisted on the picture, and I'd happened to end up liking it, and posting it myself. I clicked on the post, the tag of her username popping up.

I bit my lip, clicking on her name after a moment of hesitation. I knew I shouldn't be looking; it definitely wouldn't do me any good. But the page had already loaded and I was suddenly bombarded with her face. She had dozens of posts, her second most recent dated around the same time as mine - it was a picture of me, my hands stuffed into my coat pockets and my long hair a mess as I stared off into the distance, clearly finding some sort of fascination with the snow. I hadn't noticed her take it; only seeing it after she'd posted it, and despite my desperate protests and attempts at bribing her to delete it - it remained.

I clicked on her more recent post - a picture of her and Tasha. Tasha looked pretty - my girl looked beautiful; the two of them posing with a drink in hand, Tasha with a wide grin and her with her tongue poked out to touch Tasha's cheek in a playful manner. She was wearing a ridiculous pair of sunglasses, black with a completely circular frame; ones only she could make look good - her curls framing her beautiful face effortlessly. She had over 300 likes, and it didn't surprise me. I swiped down to the comments, reading Tasha's - "my girl forever!" - and I silently cringed. She'd always hated comments like that - the annoying ones girls left on each others' posts. I read another, a frown quickly spreading to my face, "LUKEHEMMO: "my baby looking stunning as ever."

A shot of what I chose to label as adrenaline shot through me, my frown deepening and my teeth gritting as I suddenly launched my phone against the wall, sending it crashing into it, leaving a dent as it shattered into pieces against the kitchen tiles. My hands shook as my bottom lip began to tremble, and I cursed myself for being so weak, stubbing out my cigarette in the nearest ashtray and shoving it away from me. I buried my head into my hands as I tried to think of another - any other reason for this 'Hemmo' guy leaving a comment on my girlfriend's post - but that was just it.

She wasn't my girlfriend. As a matter of fact, she wasn't mine at all. And that was my fault - of course it was. I'd been selfish enough to take her there and then - my senses switched off and leaving us exposed to her mother - a pretty ignorant cow, if you ask me. Had I not been such a heedless fuck - we'd never have been found, Mum and I would still be in Seattle, and we'd be happy.

I didn't know why I was angry. I had no fucking right to be, considering I'd bloody gone and told her to move on for me; not to wait for me - to move on. I only had myself to blame for the bottomless pit I found myself spiralling down into - I left her. I hadn't said a word to her for nearing six months now, and did I expect anything in return? No. Good for her - she moved on. Lucky fucking her.

The sound of the toaster sounded from behind me, and I spun around, grabbing the poptarts from the toaster, and tossing them onto a plate. I took a bite, and eyed the clock - Liam would be home soon, and then - off to get this stupid dinner with Mum's boyfriend Benedict over and done with.