Crush Culture {{Harry Lewis - W2S}}

✮ FOURTY EIGHT ✮

Mila's pov

"Holy shit" Talia let out, eyes wide as she listened to Mila's ranting, "what a bitch"

"Yep, it only took me five years to realise" the younger girl sighed, falling onto her friend's couch pushing her head onto Talia's lap, covering her eyes with her arm, "you were right all along"

"You don't have to stroke my ego," Talia let out a light laugh, running her hands through Mila's hair, "not right now, anyway" she added, laughing louder as Mila glared up at her.

"You were right, I was wrong" Mila spoke in a monotone voice, "good enough?"

"Hmm, keep going" Talia teased, shaking her head with a smile before their conversation slowly tapered off, the two girls silently watching whatever movie had been playing.

It was strange, Mila had expected to get to Talias flat and breakdown before the front door was even open. Possibly get the wrong door altogether and make a fool out of herself, resulting in more crying. But instead, she had turned up with a light smile on her face, sat sipping a cup of tea whilst filling Talia in on all the details, going over in her head what Lucy had said multiple times, and not regretting a word she'd said back.

Well, maybe a little.

"Was I too harsh?" Mila had asked Talia once she had finished relaying the gossip.

"Too harsh?" The black-haired girls eyes had doubled, "If I was you I would have swung, if anything you were too nice"

Mile didn't think she was too nice to Lucy. If anything she regretting handling the situation how she had. She could have calmly left without attacking Lucy's character, or let herself be shouted out at the expense of keeping a friendship, or better yet she could have not lied in the first place.

However, something in her mind told her that this was what was destined to happen.

It was fate that Mila and Harry met, fate that they were left alone to wander Spain in the early morning. Lucy had tried to push herself into a future she saw fit at the moment, disregarding anybody else's future, or feelings, altogether.

"What am I going to do for Christmas...?" Mila came to the sudden realisation, moving her arm to look up at Talia, "I was meant to spend it with Lucy"

"Spend it with Harry" Talia shrugged, not looking away from the television.

"He's in Guernsey"

"Then stay with me and Simon" Mila didn't mean to show a grimace on her face, it just sort of happened, "Oi! What's wrong with that"

"No, no, nothings wrong" Mila held up her hands and she sat back up, "I'd just rather not spend Christmas with a couple whilst being reminded that Harry's on another island"

"Fair enough...You could always ask Ethan what he's doing..." a raised eyebrow, "or...go home"

Talia spoke the last sentence like she was unsure. As if she was walking through a tomb, scared to set off any traps with the hair-trigger response.

"Home..." Mila furrowed the eyebrows, "I don't know, she hasn't even called or texted me in the last year, almost" she mumbled, looking towards her phone as if it would turn up all of a sudden.

It had been three years since she had been in Middlesbrough for Christmas. Three years since she'd seen her mother at all, let alone just for the holidays.

She had pleasant memories of Christmas time as a child, going to her aunties for a huge family dinner, a snowball fight afterwards, a drink on the night. It was a tradition for as much of the family to get together as possible, usually resulting in a house full of people; with five aunts and three uncles, it was never a quiet moment.

Then there was new years. Drinking all night, watching the countdown on television then dancing the Auld Lang Syne in the front garden before letting her eldest uncle let the dickie bird in.

New Years spent with family rather than Lucy, for the first time in three years.

It sounded good.

But still, she was unsure. What if she got to her front door only to have it slammed in her face? Would her mother just allow her back with open arms after all this time?

Then one thing caught her eye, a white paper bag sticking out from her work bag. Inside sat a glass lily; a reason to go home.

"Yeah...I think I will"

———————
Written: 23rd February 2021
Published: 26th February 2021
Is it just a british thing to dance the auld lang syne at new years and let the dickie bird in or is it just a my family thing?