"𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞"

𝘴𝘪𝘹

Harry

****
"Harry?"

The amount the people who've said my name in the past twenty-four hours was started to make me agitated and a bit irritated.

"Yes mum?"

"Come done for a minute won't you?"

I sighed and closed my book: Arsène Lupin
and walked downstairs, my legs feeling heavier with every step.

My mum sat on a chair -my dad's chair- whilst flipping through the newspaper. I've always admired my mum ever since I was a boy.

Her long dark brown almost-black hair, her smile that I happily inherited, her beautiful sense of clothes and her voice.

"So Louis, hmm?" She said, flipping through the newspaper. I just nodded and waited for her to continue.

"Play me something on the piano dear,"

It was always like this, no matter how admirable or amazing my mum is, her flaws was and still are almost always a red flag.

I always try to predict what mood my mum is in, that determining what I will play.

"Oh that sounds beautiful, what's it called?"

"Falling, I made it up."

My mum just nodded and dismissed me with her hand.

I went up to my room, locking the door I called Zayn up. We have four phones in the house, one for Gemma, one for mum, one for me, and one in the kitchen.

"Harry?"

"Oh my god can you not say my name?"

I could practically smell Zayn rolling his eyes.

"Can I go over to yours?"

"Sure H, is it her again?"

I nodded, forgetting that he isn't there in physical form.

"Oh yeah, sorry I nodded. Yeah it's her, can we go to a bar or something?"

I could hear a bit of worry in Zayn's voice when he said sure, I'm not typically one for bars. I'm a stay-at-home let's play scrabble person.

I planned on asking Zayn if I could move in with him, we've been mates for such a long time and we've always flirted with the idea. I packed a duffel bag with three hoodies, two sweatpants, boxers and a couple other essentials.

I wasn't planning on leaving now, I just wanted to stay a couple of nights to see if I wanted to commit to moving in with Zayn.

"Mum? I'm staying at Zayn's for a couple." I quickly said, hiding the duffle bag out of view. She nodded and I escaped.

In no way am I trying to say that I have a bad home life, because I really don't.

My room, the kitchen, the house just reeked of my dad and I need fresh air once in a while. It happened a little over seven years ago yet I think we're all still grieving.

While walking towards Zayn's apartment i figured out which stage of grief were all in: me, mum and Gemma.

Gemma is in acceptance, she was only seven when Des died so it didn't have the effect of her that it did on me. She cries about it yeah, but whenever she does, all I feel is angry. She spent a fraction of her life with Des, why was she so upset?

My mum is in depression, but even I can see that she's also healing. When he died it took a toll of my mum, she stopped working for a year to take better care of herself and I think I hated her the most than I ever have in that year.