this is far too short & i'm sorry

-

H.

The timezone was a pain to get used to again, suddenly an irrational eight hours behind the GMT I'd become accustomed to. But I wasn't in Manchester, and I'd slept. That was what mattered, I suppose - there was no drink, no pill, and no force. I slept for a total of three hours, and though it wasn't even nearly enough, it was a vast improvement from the amount I'd been getting in England. I slept in this house - and I put it down to the surroundings. Here there was no bad memories; no fearful or evil connotations, and there was no hurt. Even with Liam's dad, Geoff, suffering so badly - they didn't show the pain. They had their family, and that seemed to be enough for them.

Despite the fact I hadn't stayed in the old house in Manchester - it was something about knowing, knowing Mum was there and knowing what had happened to her between those very walls, and behind the closed doors. I knew it all, but the thing I wish I didn't know - was that he was around.

Though Louis had told me Ken was in Seattle so many months ago, we'd never determined how long he'd be staying, or if he was even really here at all. Louis could have easily been lying - something I realised as I looked back on it, now - but what if he wasn't? What if Ken was back in Seattle? I wasn't scared of him, but I desperately wanted to avoid any kind of confrontation with him. I had nothing to say to him, I wanted him to just fuck off. But then, if he did - came the undeniable fear that he'd go back to Manchester, back to the house - back to where Mum was. And that I wouldn't be able to fix the pieces this time.

I blew out a breath, stuffing my shitty excuse of a replacement phone into the back pocket of my jeans and pushing my sunglasses back into my hair to keep it out of my face. I ran my hand over my jaw and my chin, before reaching forward to push open the door belonging to the rustic cherry red exterior of my favourite place in the world where I knew I could get some peace.

"Hugo," I sent him my best smile, my tired eyes making it difficult as he looked up from his desk, his eyes widening.

"Well would you look at that!" he limped from behind the desk to stand in front of it, "Harry Styles is back in Seattle!" he exclaimed, grabbing my hand to pull me into a tight hug of some kind as I tried not to tense my shoulders too awkwardly.

"Hi," I smiled politely, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans, sending him a frown as I noticed the limp, "Leg playing up again?"

"Ah," he brushed it off, "No more than usual, son - don't you worry about it. You back in town for good?"

"I don't think so," I said honestly, "I'm visiting with my mate Liam for a month or two. I'm kind of just playing it by ear at the moment."

"Fair enough," he nodded, leaning on the counter for some support as I eyed him carefully, "Well, do you need something? I think your favourite is out at the moment.." he trailed off thoughtfully, and I shook my head slightly confused. Hugo not only sold books, but he leant them out every so often - Pride and Prejudice was never available to be bought; only borrowed. But it never, ever went out apart from when it was in my hands.

"Pride and Prejudice is out?" I frowned, "That's odd."

"It's been out quite a lot since you were gone," he said slowly, as I failed to piece the pieces together.

"Strange," I remarked dismissively, brushing it off, "I thought I could help out a bit around here, you know? If you're looking for someone to work - I dunno, it might help take the edge off a bit?" I almost asked, as he began to nod.

"I'd love that, Harry," he sent me a small smile, before adding, "But I'm afraid I can't give you the job."

"What? Why?"

"I can't even afford to pay you minimum wage, boy," he sighed, "the legalities of it all, eh? I'd have you around if I could."

"No, no - I don't need minimum wage, it's okay," I insisted. At this point, any money would be enough, "You don't have to pay me that much. I just really need this."

Hugo nodded slowly, "I can give you five dollars an hour." If I worked ten til six, that was forty dollars a day on weekends, and after school I could work from four until closing - another ten dollars on those days.

"Brilliant," I beamed at him, which he easily returned.

"Get stacking then, boy - it's already midday, hm?" he sent me a smile, limping towards the storage room at the back as I nodded, eyeing the box of books behind the desk.

I wondered if she came here often, and I began to hope she didn't - I didn't want to have to give up this place out of desperation to avoid her. I shook away the thoughts - she probably forgot this place even existed, and didn't step foot in there again after I left. She was most likely preoccupied with that boyfriend of hers - or maybe she even brought him here; sat on his lap with his arms around her on our balcony. Ours.

I ran a hand through my hair, ripping open the box and pulling a pile onto the desk, running my fingers over each individual cover. 'Sense and Sensibility' - another favourite of mine. Hers, too.

I exhaled, placing it into a separate pile as a reminder to pick it up when I'd finished working so I could read it myself. I leant my hands against the wood of the desk, biting my lip as I glanced around the room and towards the stairs and the glass door and feeling a sharp tug somewhere in my chest. She was all I could see - her face. I cursed myself, fingers curling around the chain that hung from my neck as I desperately tried to figure out a way to forget that girl ever existed. But to no avail as I pinched my lip between my forefinger and thumb - she couldn't be forgotten.

"Shut up, mate," I muttered to myself, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath before opening them again, "It's fine - you're fine. She isn't here."

And those were my final words before the door of the shop swung open, the bell jingling in a manner to suggest such a warm and happy environment - but I felt my blood run cold and my chest tighten as her eyes met mine.

"Here," she shoved the copy of 'Sense and Sensibility' into my hands, "Read this one."

"Again?" I mused, a smirk tugging at my lips as my spare hand drifted to her arm to rub up and down it out of habit, "You're not sick of Jane Austen at this point?"

"Somehow, no," she giggled, wrapping her two hands around only one of my wrists as she tried to pull me towards the balcony door as she shouted something I couldn't hear to Hugo. I couldn't hear a thing, because my mind was so undeniably clouded by her in front of me. She wore a dark blue knitted sweater of mine, far too big for her in size as she paired it with her own black jeans, her unruly curls covering her shoulders and part of her face. She had a small dark line on her eyelid where she'd stabbed herself earlier on with whatever makeup she'd been trying to do, as I'd jumped up behind her and jogged her concentration, causing me to roar with laughter as she tried to be angry with me.

She pushed open the balcony door, leading me onto it as we were immediately whipped at by the cold winter air, icy against our faces.

"Fucking hell," I murmured, collapsing into a seat and pulling her onto my lap, nuzzling my face into the warmth of her neck as she giggled softly, my arms snaking around her waist, "You're cute."

"Cute enough for you to read to me?" she looked at me wistfully, pressing a long kiss to my jaw when I nodded, confirming that I would.

I placed the book on her lap, my chin resting comfortably on her shoulder as she snuggled further into me and I flicked open the cover.

"..Which the settled rain of the two preceding days had occasioned. The weather was not tempting enough to draw the two others from their pencil and their book, in spite of Marianne's declaration that the day would be lastingly fair, and that every threatening cloud would be drawn off from their hills; and the two girls set off together," I spoke softly, her eyes on me so closely making it difficult to concentrate as she drew gentle circles on my jaw with her finger, listening intently as I continued, "The gaily ascended the downs, rejoicing in their own penetration at every glimpse of blue sky: and when they caught in their faces the animating gales of an high south-westerly wind, they pitied the fears that had prevented their mother and Elinor from sharing such delightful sensations."

She was always so beautiful when she listened; always so focused and captivated - she'd told me how every word I spoke drew her in further, but what she didn't know was that she was the true captivation in itself. She was everything.

A soft smile grew on my lips as we came to her favourite line, and I rubbed my hand gently over her knee, "I could not be happy with a man whose taste did not in every point coincide with my own. He must enter in all my feelings; the same books, the same music must charm us both," she read in unison with me, locking her eyes with mine as I leant down to connect my lips with hers briefly.

"Here's your favourite quote, now," she grinned, burying her head in my chest as I chuckled lightly, "Go on, then - read it, baby."

I continued, "It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy;—it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others."

She was here.