It all started with a CD

Chapter 19

December has begun, and I still haven't got tickets for a flight, even though I've been checking everyday the website to see if the price changed, but it never did, at least not in a positive way. The thing is, I don't want to ask my parents to pay the tickets for me, since they've already done it a few times. There is a cheaper flight a few days earlier, but the problem is that there aren't any free seats. I sigh and close my computer, slowly giving up my hopes. Suddenly, my phone rings. I pick it up after glancing at the screen.

"Hi Lou, it's me, Harry!", he shouts happily.

"Hi", I reply, surprised by his loud tone. Harry immediately stops talking, and I can basically see how his smile turns into a frown.

"Are you fine? You sound like you're crying. What's up?"

"I'm not crying, I'm fine", I reply, but at the fifth word, my voice breaks. I sniffle and wipe over my nose.

"No you aren't", Harry mumbles. "Honey, I...", then he hangs up. I stare at my phone without understanding a thing, but then I simply put it away and dig my face into my hands, trying to hold back my sobs. I haven't seen them in such a long fucking time. I love them so much and I... I just miss my family, okay?! I miss them and I don't know what to fucking do. Videochatting is just not enough, I want to be able to hug them, to smell them, to kiss their cheeks. I want to hold my two little siblings, Ernest and Doris, and I don't even know if they see me as their brother, which I am. I want to see the real things, not only what they show on camera. I want to smell the cookies my mum bakes, but I also want to see the smoke of them burning because she forgot taking them out. I want my little sisters Phoebe and Daisy to hug me tightly, I want to gossip about boys with Lottie, I want to help Fizzy picking out her clothes like I always did when we were young. I want to get to know better mums new husband, Daniel. I wonder if my family is still in touch with the person I refer to as my dad, Mark. He might not be my biological father, but he was always there for me, and he saw me as his actual son. I sometimes text him, but since his and mum's divorce, we didn't talk much, and I miss him. Mum and Mark divorced on good terms, and I know that mum loved him very much and that she still does. Although they fought a lot at the end of their relationship, they never failed to make each other smile.

I wipe over my face with one hand, then I grab a picture of us which is placed on the counter. The photo is very old, I was twelve years old back then. Mum and Mark were still together, and the twins (Phoebe and Daisy, not the other twins) had just been born. I was holding Daisy in my arms, Mark held Phoebe and Mum was hugging Lottie. Fizzy had her arms around Mark, and she was holding mum's hand. All of us were smiling brightly, well except for the new-born babies. I sigh quietly while putting back the picture. Suddenly, someone rings on the door. I freeze in my movement. He didn't...

I get up immediately and run to the door to open it. As soon as Harry sees me, he roughly grabs me and presses me against his chest. I slowly put my arms around his waist and snuggle my face into his jumper. Harry digs his face into my hair and lets his hand run over my back. Soft sobs escape my lips, and when he hears that, he starts mumbling comforting words I can't quite understand. When we pull away, he cups my face and gently strokes my cheeks with his thumbs. Then he says: "Let's get inside, shall we?"

I nod and lead him into my living room, making sure that he closes the door. I sit down on the kitchen counter. Harry spreads my legs and steps between them, resting his fingers on my thighs. He softly pecks my nose before looking at me. "What's wrong, love?"

I press my lips together and look down. The feeling of Harry's gaze on my face is annoying, and even though I'm grateful he came to see me, I wish I was alone. I'm glad he's here to support me, I'm happy that he heard I wasn't alright, but I really don't want to talk about it. I just can't, I don't want to think about them. I hesitantly look up at my lover and ask: "Is it okay if we don't talk about it? I really don't feel like I'd be able to."