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☆♬○♩●♪✧♩ ♩✧♪●♩○♬☆
JUNE 12TH 1994
Emma should've seen it coming. She should've known that Harry wouldn't enable her moping and her self-pitying tendencies for too long.
The month following Kurt Cobain's suicide was strange. It's not that Emma didn't listen to music anymore because she did, it just felt different. She didn't lock herself in her room with the intension of blasting a record from start to finish anymore. She only listened to things at an appropriate volume, which was dreadfully unlike her. No discovering new things either.
Listening to Nirvana was out of the question, of course. She felt weird even attempting to make eye contact with one of her formerly precious vinyls.The idea made her stomach twist and turn, which Emma really fucking hated. She hated turning her back on a band that had given her so much but her weakness was more powerful than she could bear.
James didn't seem to mind the change, though. In fact, she seemed to appreciate the newfound calmness in the household.
But of course, leave it to Harry to know Emma better than her own sister. He knew that his best friend had changed for the worse and he simply couldn't have it any longer.
"I've fucking had it with you, alright?" Harry finally said to her one day while they were just having a chat in Emma's room.
The girl in question frowned. "Excuse me?"
"You've been different." Harry stated matter-of-factly. "I don't know where me best mate is but I want her back. I want the dickhead who constantly hums silly tunes during our breaks and drags me to record stores just to stare at things and not buy a damn thing."
Emma sighed, knowing that he was absolutely right. "Fucking hell man, I don't know what to tell you." Her shoulders slumped as she finished her sentence with a sorrowful sigh. "I just don't have it in me anymore and it's shite, I know it is, but there's nothing I can do about it."
"There is, that's what I'm trying to tell ya." Harry replied, sitting up a bit straighter on Emma's bed. "Look, I've got a plan that I'm gonna explain to you. I'm not pitching anything by the way, you're doing this with me whether you like it or not."
Emma let out a dry and disbelieving chuckle. "Alright, we'll see about that."
"Remember my cousin Mark? The one who lives in London with the posh side of my family?"
Emma frowned to herself, trying to remember who this lad was. "Is Mark the one who used to be obsessed with bow ties when he was little or the one who had that allergic reaction to chocolate at one of your birthday parties years ago?"
