as it is || harry styles au

one

i v o r y

"Momma! Look at the grasses!"

My five-year-old was clearly born and raised in the city of Boston. Fields of dandelion and miscellaneous crops for miles were nothing Jamie had ever seen before.

"I know, honey. What do you think they're growing in the grass?"

For the remaining fifteen minutes of our drive to my hometown of Camden, Oregon, Jamie went into an impressive amount of detail about what foods were growing from the ground—one being his favorite candy, gummy bears.

The rental car was a night and day difference from my old beater I sold for a couple grand back in Boston. I only drove it to get to work and get groceries, and hardly ever took Jamie in it for fear the thing would explode.

I turned off the GPS when we drove into town limits. Seeing the familiar street names and buildings of my old stomping grounds felt like six years hadn't passed at all. The old general store that looked like it hadn't seen a customer in ten years now looked more like it had been sixteen years. The water fountain that would freeze over during the cold season, which was about seventy-five percent of the year, stood tall with a few more cracks in the cement bowls.

"See that pink-colored store over there, Jams?" I pointed to the store we were approaching on the right. From the rear view mirror, I saw Jamie glue his forehead to the window. "That's where I used to get all my toys when I was your age."

"Do they have Buttercup?"

"Yes, I'm sure they have Buttercup. Bubbles and Blossom, too."

He was on a Powerpuff Girls kick—or, as he liked to call them Powder-puff Girls.

"Oooh! Can we go, Momma?"

Jamie was most certainly a spoiled kid. It was bound to happen when he had three caregivers around back in Boston—all of which being my close friends who absolutely adored him and God forbid anything happened to me or my mom, my best friends Mickie, Jenna, and Emerson would fight to the death for custody. I also raised Jamie to be both respectful and trusting. This meant that I would give him the world by whatever means possible, and if I happened to say "no" to a toy he wanted, he knew his mom had a good reason for it. That reason was almost always because bills needed to be paid, but a five-year-old kid didn't need to know that. He was told that he was running out of room in his toy box and he needed to show some more love to the toys he already had.

"After we go say hi and settle in, I bet Gigi would love to come with us."

"Does Gigi like Powderpuff Girls?"

"Why don't you ask her when we see her?"

"But do you know?" He asked impatiently.

"No, bud, I'm not sure. If I were to guess, I think her favorite would be Bubbles."

"Boring!" Jamie never had a hard time voicing his opinion.

As I pulled into the small parking lot of Dena's Diner, my laughter gradually died out, my heart sinking down into my stomach. The pile of muscle quenched inside of me at the sight of the nearly full lot. We'd made it an hour or so earlier than I thought we would, so we were now here during the lunch rush. Surely, most if not all the patrons inside would recognize me. Camden would get a week's worth of news out of this. Dena's daughter showing back up in town after six years with—get this folks—a five-year-old son!

     What a whore.

I had been mentally preparing myself for how things would be in Camden for quite some time. As soon as I had made the decision that I was coming back home three months ago to help Mom out with the diner and give Jamie a chance to know his grandmother better. Another convincing factor was Boston unfortunately wasn't getting cheaper as the years passed by.

     In the very deep, dark depths of my mind, I thought a thought I didn't want to think about. I thought of the band-aid I wasn't quite ready to rip off yet.

"We're here?"

"Yup," I huffed out, trying to sound more enthusiastic than I felt—than I should be feeling. "Time to go see Gigi."

I hopped out of the car to go help Jamie out, but he'd already opened the door himself, slithering out of his booster seat and onto the pavement. I peered down at him and with my fingers brushed back his wild curls that he hadn't gotten from me. Eerily enough, they reminded me of the band-aid I didn't want to touch. Unfortunately, that wasn't possible. The hair, that is, not the band-aid. The band-aid would surely be coming off sooner rather than later.

"You ready, bud?"

He grabbed hold of my hand as I led the way into the diner. The world might as well have been standing still when we made it inside, the bells on the handle signaling our arrival.

All dozen or so heads turned our way. My eyes immediately found my mom standing before the food window. She was about half a foot shorter than my five-feet and nine-inches. Our faces were nearly identical only with her nose being a little straighter than mine plus a few wrinkles here and there. The smile I'd mustered up on my face died a slow death as I saw her eyes go wide in shock before flicking over to a booth.

Sat down at a booth in the far right corner, all the way across the diner from our booth, was the love of my life's younger brother.

My breath faltered in my throat. His dark and stormy green eyes, so familiar, slid down from mine, to Jamie, then back to me. Emotions of shock, familiarity, and anger crossed William's face...

...and the band-aid began peeling.

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(: hi

this one's going to hurt so good.

thank you all for continuing to read and enjoy my work I'm crying and grateful always!

Stay safe <3