Forever and ever 2. The adventure starts now.

Part 163.

Ciara's pov~

After dinner, Harry and I usually did nothing more than watch a movie, have a glass of wine, and occasionally engage in nighttime activities, more so for Harry than me. However, tonight seemed to bring a change to our beloved routine as Y/N suddenly started sending me messages, something she rarely did, if ever, but this time, they were no good.

Y/N:
Can you come to my place? Please!
06:37 pm.

Y/N:
ASAP!
06:37 pm.

Y/N:
Tom was just here
06:38 pm.

"Oh no..." I muttered, catching the attention of my redheaded boyfriend. His head perked up with curiosity, holding a wet plate in his hands that he had just been washing, a towel draped over his shoulder.
"What's up, angel?" he asked, setting the plate aside. The clatter pulling me out of the chat.
"Your brother..." I mumbled just above a whisper, knowing it was enough for Harry to understand which brother I meant, especially after Tom had been the main topic of our conversations for the past few months. Harry's concerns about his alcohol problem, mine about his behavior.

Harry paused, holding a fork in his hand looking like the sweetest devil. "What has he done, my love?" His voice already carrying the hint that he wasn't expecting anything good. He set the fork aside, dried his hands, and stepped behind me, peering at the chat Y/N couldn't seem to stop bombarding.

Y/N:
I really need you right now Ciara.
06:39 pm.

"Shit..."

~

37 minutes later, we knocked on Y/N's door. That's how long the drive took.
"If she doesn't open the door in three seconds, I'll kick it down," Harry threatened, his fists clenched, knowing whether Y/N was okay or not was crucial. And rightly so. I stroked my hand over his back, my movement distracting us both from the tension.
"Relax," I whispered, planting a kiss on his shoulder just as the door opened. Y/N stood before us with her hair wet and a sweater on, freshly showered, chewing on the sleeve. Her eyes were red, her nose twitching, and her cheeks puffy.
"Oh, Darling..." I immediately enveloped her in a deep hug, Harry scanning past us in search of Tom. His steps hard enough to make the table clutter.
"Where is he?" he asked, Y/N shaking her head nuzzled in my neck.
"Gone already," she murmured, just as she had written to me. But Harry double-checked to make sure. I stroked her shoulder, trailing down her back, letting her sob into my shirt. I shot a pouty look in Harry's direction, who seemed like he wanted to join the hug. To comfort Y/N the way she cried.

"Can you talk about it?" It wasn't a question of whether she wanted to. Y/N was in tears, broken. I could piece together that it had something to do with Tom, but what had happened was known only to her.
We sat on the couch in the living room, and she began to recount, leaving out no detail. From Tom entering and kissing her to her confessing her love to him, despite never receiving it in return.

Occasionally, Harry grimaced at the thought of his naked brother, but most of the time, he tried not to interrupt and refrain from getting angry at Tom.

"And then he threw the divorce papers at me and walked out..."
"That's cruel..." I remarked, disturbed by what Y/N must have gone through, how she must be feeling right now, stretched thin and foolish, but she couldn't have known any better, and honestly, I might would have fallen for it too.

"And you wanted that?" Harry cut to the chase. Bewildered by Y/N's choice if she was to say yes.
She swallowed as she met his gaze. Stubborn and stern, unable to even remotely empathize with Y/N's situation, but then again, it was his brother we were talking about.

And Harry wanted everything but to give his brother even a hint of sympathy.

Y/N didn't answer, and Harry's voice grew louder, more aggressive. Not towards Y/N, but towards Tom. She knew it had nothing to do with her, yet she felt stupid sitting on the couch, having to listen to the obvious. Why would she date Thomas?
"DID HE ASK YOU IF IT WAS OKAY?" After all, Y/N had told us everything we could know, except that. Y/N shook her head in shame, looking down at the crumpled tissue in her hands. It was the fifth she had used.