𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 (𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴)

❛❛chapter sixteen: inheritance❜❜

I sat beside John in a small cafe. George and Paul sat across from us. I sorrowfully stuffed a muffin into my mouth as the lads talked. The taste was bland, not sweet like they usually were. Every color I saw in the world was dull. I felt so, so, so terribly alone even though I was surrounded by people.

"How'd he do it?" I asked abruptly after swallowing what was in my mouth.

"Yer dad? Well, um..." Paul looked around the room, "We were told he overdosed and died of a seizure."

I tried to picture it, his body thrashing around on the floor, foaming at the mouth. It was too painful. I couldn't comprehend how dire he must've been to actually do that. I bit my nails again while my hand shook. John wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer to him. He couldn't quite relate to my pain anymore. His dad left him when he was young, but he wasn't dead. John picked his mug up and took a sip of the tea that was in it.

George reached out for my hand that I wasn't chewing the nails off of, "It'll be alright. Things will pass, so try not to go berserk while they do."

"Thanks, George." I tried to smile, but it just didn't feel right.

I was curious as to who was going to deal with his funeral. Was it going to be me? I probably should call my Oma and talk to her. 

I blinked slowly, "I think I want to see the house."

"I'll take ya." Paul offered.

John shook his head, "No, it's alright. I'll bring her there."

Paul rolled his eyes, "Can't I go?"

"Knock it off, Macca. I said I'll take her."

I pressed the pads of my two fingers to my undereye to wipe away the dried-up mascara.

I tugged on John's jacket, "Can we go now?"

John's eyes widened, and he nodded. He scooted out of the booth, and I followed behind him. He quickly searched his pockets and pulled his wallet out. 

He threw a quid on the table, "For the food."

"Ta!" George said before picking it up.

John put a hand on the small of my back to direct me out of the cafe. Despite my depressing mood, his physical touch seemed to lighten my mood a bit. We waited at the bus stop, so we didn't have to walk all the way there in the frigid cold. I leaned my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes for a second. 

"You sure you want to go there?" He scratched his neck.

I hummed in response. I really just wanted to see the place, if not for the final time.

"Okay..." He spoke in a calming voice.

Eventually, the bus came, and we got on. It only took a few stops till we reached my old home. I stepped off the bus hesitantly. When I looked up, there was the house I grew up in and used to call home. Now I'm not really sure where my home is.

John met my side again, "Y'know how at yer mum's funeral you made tha' speech about how she is always lookin' over you?"

My heart tightened at the memory. I sighed but acknowledged his question and said yes.

He continued, "You were right. Now yer dad is too."

"You think?" I asked.

"Mhm." He looked down at me, "I know you keep feelin' regret for things you could've done better, but it was only fate. You were meant to be where and who you are now. I'm almost positive yer dad is up there right now," He looked up at the sky, "-proud of his strong daughter. He's probably chuffed to bit to be with yer mum. Imagine tha'."