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M I K E
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"We're eating pasta if that's fine?" Harry asks as soon as I get to the kitchen like he asked.
"Ofcourse. I have no allergies or whatsoever so I'll eat whatever you have." I say. If anything, this is better then the stuff we have at home.
There I make everything myself and I really can't cook.
"Great, because I wasn't planning on getting anything else." Louis announces. Harry shoots a glare at him.
Probably because he's being rude but I don't mind. I'm already glad I don't have to walk the two kilometres to Doncaster and then to walk them back before Friday without getting caught by my parents.
I keep silent the whole dinner long. Louis and Harry sometimes say a few words, but they mostly talk trough their eyes and faces. As far as I can see it isn't a good conversation. When I'm finished I ask if I need to help with cleaning up, but they just send me upstairs and tell me not to bother them.
I walk towards the huge black stairs, even bigger than the ones at home. My room is the thirth on the left, and it has a connected bathroom. It's mostly decorated with some light green colour and has a huge bed. I put my bag on a chair in the corner and put the poster on the nightstand. The bass guitar I took is laying on a table.
Since I have nothing to do I might as well strum it so I can practice a little. It'll take a long time and I have a lot of time. Unless Louis or Harry asks me to do something.
I brush my finger over the strings. They're old and don't really sound good anymore. Still I have the bass guitar, because it was the first and only one I got from my parents. And because it's the only thing I can make music with at home.
I sigh and sit down on the bed, starting to pluck the strings and strumming them. Hopefully this will be worth it.
I get lost in thoughts and the sounds of the bass guitar.
I don't notice it when Harry softly opens the door. I only notice him when he sits down next to me, causing the bed to dip in. My head snaps up then and I see him sitting there.
"Hey," he says, "what are you doing?"
"Strumming this thing. It's old and the strings have never been replaced so it's hopeless, really."
"Why don't you buy a new one then?"
"I did. My dad set it on fire in the fireplace instead of just using fire wood." I sigh, brushing away a little dust that still sat on the guitar.
"He hates music, doesn't he?" Harry asks.
"He does. He thinks you can't make career with it. Little does he know that I already sort of have one."
"I hope he will realize at some point. It'll be difficult trough, if your band doesn't show their faces."
"I know." I lay the guitar down next to us and look at him. "Why are you here anyway?"
"I wanted to apologise for Louis' behaviour. He should at least be nice to you." Harry sighs and looks at the wall.
"I don't mind it trough. I came here without even knowing you and stay at the house of which not even Liam or Niall knows the exact location and I disturb your trip. He has the right to be angry with me.
The reason why I ran away wasn't even that bad."
"If it made you ran away rather than talking with your parents it was bad. Just because the problem isn't as horrible as others may have doesn't mean it isn't valid."
"Still. I understand why Louis would be mad."
"He already was a little grumpy before you got here so it isn't entirely you. I want you to know that."
"It's fine. I'll live. I'm already glad I don't have to sleep in the train station or something." I chuckle dryly.
"It's no problem. We'll help out any friend of Liam if we can trust them."
"Thanks Harry. Tell Louis as well."
"I'll do that. Also, who was calling you when I came to get you for dinner?"
