prom date | wroetoshaw

Home

"So, what're we having tonight?" I ask Harry with a smile, entering his apartment after a very long day at the studio.

"What do you want to have? I was thinking just a takeaway, you already know how bad my kitchen skills are, I don't really fancy giving you food poisoning on your first proper day in London," he explains, having to stop himself from bursting out with laughter.

"Takeaway is fine with me...I'm going to shower first, then chill the rest of the night," I wonder out loud, then coming up with a brilliant idea. "You know what I just thought of?"

He turns towards me, his face full of intrigue and curiosity. "What have you just thought of?"

"You know those movie nights you hosted when we were in eighth year? I think we should have one tonight," I suggest, and I can pinpoint the exact moment he remembers about our childhood memories.

"Oh my god," he exclaims, scratching his head. "Yeah! Let's do it! I'll make us my signature hot chocolate, but I'll need to grab some marshmallows from the shop - actually, I might as well just do it now and get it over with," he suggests, looking at me as if to check it's alright.

With a roll of my eyes I send him off, letting him know I'll probably be out of the shower by the time he's back. He leaves the flat shortly after he'd just entered, leaving me stood in the hallway.

I chuck my shoes off, hiding them in the corner by his. I won't need them for another two days, as all I had to do was write up a report based on things I'd learnt from today. My next in person session wasn't until Friday, so I had time to kill.

The flat seemed empty, but I assumed that Lux and Freezy were just in their rooms for their jobs - Harry had kind of explained his and their whole situation in the car ride home, and I'd sort of understood - but not really.

All I'd taken away from it was that they were pretty popular, and it wasn't unusual for someone to recognise them on the street. It was massively different to when him and I had been friends during school back in Guernsey.

His room was cold, and I spotted the reason why straight away. His windows were wide open, his curtains swaying from side to side due to the breeze that was coming in. It had been hot earlier, but as with the bipolar British weather, that had soon turned to a breezy evening, where the sun was rapidly setting in the distance.

Once the windows were shut, I closed the curtains and brightened his lights - one of my favourite things about his room was that he had an automatic lighting system, making it adaptable for however bright you needed the light to be.

I turned on the shower, letting it run for a few moments to warm up. Not thinking twice, I set up his towels, ready for when I'd come out of the shower. It was lucky I'd packed my own hair products, because the only bottle in the shower was a half empty multi use shampoo and conditioner.

Thankfully, his door had a lock on it - not that I was expecting anyone to come barging through the door anyway, I was sure they had respectable boundaries with each other...right?

The water felt relaxing as it came down on my skin, much more powerful than the one in my own flat, back up in Warwick.

I didn't take too long in the shower, despite wanting to stay in there forever. I caught a glimpse of something from the corner of my eye - I recognised it some somewhere, but where from I had no idea.

It was a little box, with two small drawers. It had been poorly made, that was for sure. He had it on his shelf, just below his mirror. There was nothing else on the shelf, just that one box.

I stopped looking at it - whatever it was would come back to me, I was sure of it. I had my towel wrapped around my hair and my body, and I left his bathroom, making my way out to get changed and ready for the relaxed evening tonight.

By the time Harry arrived home, my hair was basically already dry, and I was changed into my pyjamas, sat on his bed listening to some music in the background.

He came into his room, holding up a bag of marshmallows and a grin on his face. "All sorted. You?"

"All sorted," I agreed, pushing myself over the bed so there was enough room for him to climb in next to me. "Whilst I remember, what's the box on your bathroom shelf?"

"Oh, the one under the mirror? It's the one we had to make in tech in Year Eleven, with Mrs Russell, you made one too but I think we broke it at your house the same week," he remembers, smiling whilst telling me the story.

It clicked in my head now, the memories from our school years flooding back in chunks.

"Jesus Christ, how the hell do you remember all this stuff? I can't even remember past last week Harry!"

"Cause - I dunno, it was a good time. I remember practically all of it, the good and the bad," he says quietly, his voice now reaching a whisper.

My mind drifts to some of the not so nice moments of my school years. Whilst there were some incredible years, with incredible people, it was sometimes hard to look past the dark period of losing my Mum, and the long and hard months that followed. I think Harry thought the exact same.

This November would be eight years since her death, not that it made it any easier. In some ways, it made it worse. I felt like my memory of her was slowly fading as the years passed, and the thought of that made me want to curl up into a ball and cry.

We sit in silence for a few small seconds, but it isn't long until I break it, sitting up and climbing out of bed. "Hot chocolate time?" I ask, trying to distract myself in order to cheer up.

"Definitely," he agreed, clenching the bag of marshmallows in his hand. He waited for me to walk over, before wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "You're thinking about her, aren't you?" He said quietly, letting me lean my head on his shoulder.

I didn't even have to answer for him to know, because he just knew. Within seconds, he'd shut his bedroom door again, throwing the bag onto the bed and engulfing me in a tight hug.

Within moments I felt as protected as I ever could be in his grip, not wanting to leave it any time soon. He was there, with me, stroking my hair and telling me everything was going to be okay. That I was going to be okay.

"I know I'll be okay. I just really fucking miss her," I whisper into his collarbone, and I hear him go silent.

"Whatever you need, tell me. I'll sort it for you, I promise. You know I will, Lil."

"I know," I sniff, desperately trying to stop anymore tears from falling. "Thank you - I'll be alright once I get some hot chocolate down my throat," I say, accompanied by a tight laugh.

"Shit, yeah! Let's go make the hot chocolates and watch a movie. Even if you do fall asleep on my arm again," he teases, still gripping onto me and guiding us both out into his living room.

Looking back, it was this moment I knew I'd discovered that my home wasn't in Warwick, nor in Guernsey. It was wherever he was, because there was no one else I would go to other than him.