She

She was Drunk

She stumbled down the library stairs; the widest smile on her face. I swear, she was never unhappy.

"Library boy!! You never told me your secret!" She called out, chasing me down the middle of University Quad area.

"Maybe I should take you home." I murmured, throwing one of her arms around my shoulder. She held tight onto her camera, while her bag full of stuff was loosely held between her fingertips.

"Maybe that's a good idea." She whispered, her legs giving out as she tumbled in the grass.

"Oh God!" I shouted, chuckling as I lifted her bridal style; making sure all of her things were securely held in my hands. She rested her messy head on my shoulder.

"You smell like you've been drinking." She stuttered. I coughed a laugh.

"That's you, Arden."

"How can you be sure?" She questioned childlike.

"You had 6 cups of Rum, I had 3. You're 5'4, about 54 kilos; I'm 6'0, 83 kilos. You're definitely more drunk than me." I countered. She shrugged, closing her eyes against my shoulder.

"Fair enough." She mumbled against my shoulder; taking in a yawn before closing her eyes. I continued to walk, thinking over where she told me she lived again.

'Baker Hall' I reminisced, looking over the buildings to find the one marked BH. Once my eyes set on it, I trudged forward; slowly, taking in the scenery of Manchester's Uni campus.

I had only given up 3 secrets that night, but I doubt she would remember them in the morning.

I told her that I almost drowned trying to impress a girl at the beach. I thought I could swim deeper than I could; truth be told I'm not the most avid swimmer.

I told her that I can't cook, and that every time I "bring homemade pie" to a party it's actually store bought from Tesco.

Lastly, I told her about my mothers condition.

Alzheimer's. My mother had Alzheimer's.

At first it was just a few things. My birthday, her keys, things like that. Then it was things like who I was, who Gemma was, and where she was.

Then Gemma got married. I went to college. It just wasn't practical for us to take care of her anymore. I visit her when I can. Holidays, long weekends, stuff like that.

I gently grasped the nob to the Dorm room door, pushing the door open. As Arden had previously stated, the room was a God awful mess. Clothes were thrown about; shoes everywhere. There were pictures hanging from clothes lines on the ceiling.

I delicately laid Arden on the bed, pulling her red shoes off. I flung them carelessly over my shoulder, grasping the comforter from the floor and tenderly placed it over her warm body.

"My brother had cancer."

"What?" I whispered, stopping myself from walking away.

"When I was twelve. My older brother got stage 4 melanoma. He was 15. We did everything together. When he died, I didn't want anyone else, but I didn't wanna live life as a shell. So I go on as if I'll see him again tomorrow. All the pictures, they're for him. I take them for him. I don't want him to miss anything." She said, her voice subdued due to the hushed silence of her room.

"I don't think he'd miss a thing, Arden." I murmured. She sighed, a small smile written on her face.

"Probably not, but I take the pictures just incase he does." She muttered, grasping her pillow in her tight hold. I chuckled.

"Goodnight Arden, I'll see you tomorrow night. Same time, same place. Don't forget."

"You're a lot like him, Harry Styles."

"You're a lot like nothing I've ever seen before, Arden Stone."

I stated, before quietly walking out the door.

But I didn't sleep that night.

With a pencil in my hand, and a sketch pad on my desk, I drew. I shaded and shaped until it was perfect.

It was Arden.