HELPLINE

TWENTY-FOUR

T W E N T Y - F O U R

H E N R Y

"do you listen to anything other than the fucking smiths?" shania snaps, brushing her dark hair out of her eyes.

poor thing; she was starting to lose patience with me. she swore at least once practically everything (which was pretty funny, sometimes, because it made some funny combinations) but i could tell she was starting to lose patience with me.

i didn't want her to. i didn't want to be here drinking and crying. it had been ten days, and i was surprised i hadn't gone bankrupt from all the beer i'd buying.

shania was being great, but i wasn't.

"i'm sorry, shay," i sigh.

"damn right," she says immediately, but then her voice softens slightly. "i'm just worried about you, henry. how do you even have any money left?"

"i don't know," i said numbly.

(i really didn't. living in london wasn't exactly cheap - but i guess it helped i didn't go outside.)

"you need to go outside," shania continues, collecting up empty beer bottles and opening the curtains. i winced at the fresh light filtering through the windows, and threw my hand up to my face. "and preferably get a job while you're at it."

"what kind of job?" i asked. "i've been working at a cereal helpline for the last three years. that's hardly going to get me a job at a bank, or something."

"you don't want a job at a bank," shania scoffs. "you barely know how to use a credit card."

"in my defence, those machines are really scary -"

shania cuts me off. "henry, get dressed. we're going job-hunting. and for god's sake, turn that bloody music off!"

❄

"my feet hurt," i wail to shania as we sit in the waiting room of a job agency. we've been out for about forty-five minutes, and so far shania has made me apply for a job at a supermarket, (on the fish counter. i'm allergic to fish) as a secretary at a vet's (i hate animals) and in a little record store, which would be pretty cool and a good way to meet hot guys. other than that, she's refused to buy me an ice cream and we keep having to stop while she gets chatted up by people.

"my head hurts," she mutters back. "honestly, i'm trying to do something nice for you, and it's like i've set your house on fire, or something."

"henry waters?" a voice calls, and a brown-haired woman beckons us over. "i've found two suitable jobs," she smiles, and i try to smile back.

shania nods encouragingly.

"now, you said you were working at a cereal helpline," the woman says, and i nod. "good. i've found another two jobs in communications - one's the helpline in a yoghurt factory -"

i look at shania, panic scrawled over my features. i hate yoghurt. oh, shit, i hate everything.

" - and another's the receptionist at a local law firm." the woman smiles, but it's much more strained than before. "i know it's not what you're used to, but -"

"no, the law one sounds cool," i say, sounding about fifteen years old. "if i hadn't, like, totally fucked my exams, i would've studied law. thanks... sarah," i said, reading her name tag."

she laughs. "great! okay, well i'll just hand you the application form..."

❄

"i guess i should thank you," i say grudgingly as we walk home, finally eating some ice cream. "i don't know what i'd do without you, shania."

shania pats me on the arm in way that would be really awkward if it was anyone but her, and takes the last mouthful of her ice cream. "well, i guess it was really good luck. and you should probably apply for some of those other jobs, too, just in case you don't get it."

i nod slightly and search my pocket for my keys, which are held together by a piece of string. "i guess this is... moving on."

shania smiles. "the first day of your new life."

"so..." i say awkwardly as we head inside. "no smiths?"

"absolutely not."

❄

not the worst but not the best - and thank you bc we're almost at 10k reads! cray

for raf because she's a babe and seems to be the onLY one sympathising with henry (do u all hate him or something)

more drama in the next chapter & remember to cote love u all

lucy xox (and this was a quick update b proud)