Alleviate // H.S

XX

A/N: I want all of my readers to know that everything I describe in this story (every person, every place, every outfit) is completely open for you to imagine WHATEVER you want. It's a story after all, a picture that you are free to construct in your own mind. If you want to imagine something different to what I describe or assign, then that's completely fine. The point of a novel is imagination, and my only hope is for my readers to feel free to imagine whatever they like.

Enjoy this chapter. :)

***

"Yeah, okay. Im definitely punching," he winks, holding an arm out for me.

I shake my head in disagreement and take his arm with a soft smile.

"You look as radiant as ever, Ever," he says as a follow up to his previous remark.

I struggle to form a response. Compliments tend to make me very uncomfortable for some reason and I never know how to respond.

I know that I should just thank him, but that would be implying that I agree — which I don't. But I can't just blatantly ignore it, because a compliment is given out of kindhearted nature, which is something very commendable.

Therefore I should reciprocate.

"You look wonderful, Tate."

"Ahh, did this all for you," he smirks, gesturing down to his dress shirt and jeans.

I let out a light laugh as we walk down the driveway and towards his car.

Judging by his slightly more formal attire, I had the right judgment in choosing my outfit. I went with a simple maroon play-suit, which could account for both casual wear and formal wear, depending on the circumstance. I had strategically placed my worn-in Converse and black heels next to each other on the doorstep, so that when I saw him through the window, I could choose between which was more suitable.

And now I have to clumsily work out how to walk in these heels that used to belong to my mum.

Tate and I get in the car and begin to drive towards the unknown destination in silence. It's a different atmosphere when I drive in the car with Tate as opposed to Harry. Usually Harry and I would argue over who gets control of the music, the wind whipping through my hair because Harry likes to drive with the windows rolled down, and singing in my seat to whichever song we chose as a compromise.

This, however, just feels awkward and a little bit dull.

"Um, do you like to listen to music when you're driving?" I ask, hoping to cease the awkward vibe.

"Hmmm. Not really, I wouldn't know who to listen to," he casually answers.

My eyes light up at his reasoning, "I get what you mean. There's too many amazing artist to chose from," I conclude, completely understanding the dilemma.

"No, it's not that. I just don't really care for it."

Oh.

"You don't care for music?" I ask, trying to mask my shock.

I've never met someone who simply doesn't care for music. There's so many genres and artists to choose from, and so many different sounds to indulge in, to get lost in.

I completely understand if someone prefers the void of noise, because I too can appreciate the sound of silence. But to not care for any type of music is nearly unfathomable. I really want to know what his views on music are. And maybe I can grow to understand and conceptualise it, even though I could never implement it.