Torment || l.s.

4. Diagnostic

Harry's POV

There's static on the other line and I stand up to head to the window, to make the reception clear. I can see the sky turning dark through the clear glass panes, from shades of light blue to cloudy grey.

It's getting late now, with students milling about the field in large groups to head towards the in-campus restaurants, but mum's choppy voice is loud against my right ear, "Are you sure the security's sufficient? And Crowley Hall? I've seen the pamphlets, but are the facilities as excellent as they described?"

I nod my head, before catching myself, "Yes, mum. It's safe. I've seen guards patrolling the campus, and the dorm is as expected. There's nothing to worry about."

She sighs, and I can imagine her pacing around the kitchen in worry. "I will always worry for your safety. You're my son, Harry. A mother will always care."

"Exactly, mum. I'm your son, I can take care of myself." I hear her soft laugh through the receiver and I feel a smile tug at the edges of my lips. "I'll talk to you soon. I need to buy dinner."

She hums, "Okay. Take care, Harry."

"You too, mum," I reply, closing the line before moving away from the window to head towards the door.

There are more students in the hallway, talking as they parade their new nameplates. I hear familiar names from the group inside the lift when I enter, some of them infamous due to the tabloids. But most of them don't ring a bell. Anyway, I've never been interested in family politics, especially with those people I don't know. It makes the choosing easier, especially when it comes to connections -who's trustworthy enough and who isn't.

I hurry out when we reach the ground floor, heading towards the campus directory. There's a number of gourmet restaurants inside the campus, from French cuisine to stranger selections from the Caribbean. I've heard praises for them, but none of them sound appetizing -all too fancy and impressive. There's nothing familiar about the food they serve, and after talking to mom, I feel the soft tugging on the bottom of my chest.

It's new, and after several years of being at home, it's surreal to be alone and away. Home hasn't been the same for years now, but I still call it that because of family. And it's familiar because I know it like the back of my hand. I know who to call, I know who to talk to, I know where to go. I know the only person who will listen because no matter what, she'll nod her head and say that she understands. Lily doesn't judge, she just hears and smiles, and after that, I'll start feeling lighter. She was my only friend.

Maybe it's habit. My hands itch to call her, for that semblance of comfort because I need someone familiar. But I know that I can't. We both separated on mutual terms, but it doesn't mean it didn't hurt. It hurt badly, because it didn't feel like losing a girlfriend, it was like losing a friend. It will never be the same again but it's better this way. Long distance relationships rarely last.

I scan the list again. Maybe the ones outside the campus might have more selections for food. Something close to home.