ATOMS (THE SOCIETY)

eleven.

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T. SOCIETY  ACT I. SCENE 11
❝ MIND OVER MATTER ❞
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PHOEBE BECKETT SMILED. So far she was enjoying herself. And it was a surprise. Sure, her and Harry Bingham had bonded during the party on their first night at New Ham, sharing their pain and disillusioning their histories. Something had formed during that night, some sort of unspeakable bond that simply cannot be described in words but can easily be conveyed with a single glance. She saw how Harry looked at her different, there something in his eyes that glinted with amiability and she suspected, she looked at him different too. Because in West Ham, they were strangers, Phoebe would even go as far as saying enemies, but here, in this hollow replica of their town, they were friends.

"Done?" Harry asked as he gestured to her plate.

Phoebe nodded her head and placed her plate on top of his empty one. "Thanks." She mumbled before she got up and headed to the kitchen, the glass of water on her lips as she did so.

"Uh. . . I cooked and now I'm supposed to do the dishes too?" Harry asked, his chair squeaking against the floor as he stood up.

"Yes, husband." Phoebe answered with a chuckle.

Harry stood agape before he shook his head with a chuckle and walked to the sink. Phoebe grabbed two mugs and placed it on the counter, she was going to make hot chocolate. She reached to grab the tin of cocoa from the cupboard but her fingres barely grazed the surface of the metal. "Why would anyone put cocoa at the back of the friggin' cupboard." She muttered.

Harry spotted her struggle and walked over and his height enabled him to easily grab the tin. "Here you go princess." He said as he handed it to her.

"Thanks." Phoebe mumbled. The nickname was starting to sink in and maybe, maybe, just maybe, there was a little portion of herself that liked hearing the nickname fall from his lips. And that portion would always flutter at the sound but that portion was way too small to be recognised.

"What are you making anyway?" Harry asked and returned to the sink before he turned the tap on.

"Hot chocolate." Phoebe answered. "I was thinking. . .we could go up on the roof and just, I don't know, spend the time like just talking and stuff. . . I mean-- we don't have to. I just thought--"

"Yeah." Harry interrupted her rambling. "Yeah that sounds cool." He said nonchalantly.

"Okay, yeah." Phoebe smiled. "I used to do this all the time with Jasper, not all the time, only during Summer, he said the skies were clearer in summer so you could see the stars easier. .."Her mind trailed off to her memories with Jasper, "He taught him constellations, I was always bad at them because I'm short-sighted, and he would put too much sugar in the cocoas and he'd always bring two bl--" Phoebe had opened the cocoa tin but the tin was empty. Inside was cleared of cocoa but instead filled with a folded envelope.

"Yeah. . . ? And then?" Harry's voice was distant to Phoebe as she tentatively grabbed the folded envelope and outstretched it. On typed writing was 'Mr. and Mrs. Beckett' in the centre with their address and on the top corner was the details of the sender, West Ham Police Station.

"Phoebe? You okay?" Phoebe heard the abrupt cut off of water as the faucet closed before she felt Harry's presence next to her. "What's that?"

"It's a letter." Phoebe answered. She turned the envelope to the back and found that the seal had been broken, it wasn't a surprise, someone read it and then hid it due to the contents of the letter. She hurriedly opened the letter and extended the piece of paper. Dear Mr. and Mrs. Beckett. . . your adopted son, Jasper Beckett. . .concluded that . . . his death. . . treating it as a homicide. . . A gasp escaped Phoebe's lips and she clamped a hand over her mouth. Her fingers shook as she folded the letter and placed it back in the tin,  her lungs contracting hurriedly and producing shallow breaths.