Strung (Rock & Romance I.)

Chapter 49. - Breathe Again

A/N: The inspo for this chapter was 'Breathe Again' by Sarah Bareilles. I used to be obsessed with this song and listened to it over and over again pining over a boy who never even looked at me twice. Ugh! The struggle!

On the bright note, this one is dedicated to MulleM22 ! Thank you for the support and love!

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*London*

I took a deep breath, inhaling the salty breeze of the sea. It was dark now, the temperature dropping considerably, especially this close to the water. I pulled my shawl closer to my body, snuggling into the heat of it as I looked out at the seemingly endless darkness before me.

I left my phone in the little house I was renting. It was no use overseas anyway and I was enjoying the feeling of being utterly alone for a change.

In this small, remote island of Greece, I wasn't Lukas LaBelle's fling. I wasn't the girl everyone enjoyed hating on to express their devotion to their favorite band. I wasn't the one keeping Hazmat from staying together. I wasn't even my famous, brilliant romance writer mother's daughter.

I was just a girl, staying at a house, smiling at the locals when I went down to the market to do my grocery shopping.

The home I rented didn't have a television or a computer. It didn't even have internet - which was exactly how I wanted it.

The first night, I worried. I wanted to know how Lukas LaBelle was doing. I wanted to see if he had called - and what he had said if he did. I wanted to know how the media portrayed it if they even noticed my absence. I was curious about my friends, my parents. If he had looked for me...

I felt the need to turn my phone on, to scroll through social media and just feel apart of the world that made me feel like I had no choice but to run away.

But I put my phone away. It didn't matter anymore. It was all going to disappear - it was just a matter of time.

The next morning, I woke up, feeling sad and exhausted. I had puffy eyes from crying all the way through the eighteen hours of flights and layovers, and the hour-long boat ride that took me from the mainland to the island I chose. I rolled over, feeling for my phone before I remembered where I was. Why I was here.

I got myself cleaned, dressed and stepped out of the house.

The first day, I didn't wander far. I found a local market that sold fruits and vegetables and I stocked up, before retreating. I ate a watermelon looking over the sea that night, and for the first time, I didn't miss my phone.

The next day, I walked further. The town was built hundreds of years ago, and most houses were left in their original glory. I walked the streets and just marveled at the ageless beauty of others' creations.

After a week, I found myself one town over, which had a little art museum. I looked at paintings and sculptures - some elderly, and some brand new. All different styles and unique in their own way. I was lost in the magic of the place - that independent feeling of being able to go wherever I wanted to, whenever I wanted.

I chose this location because of a movie I saw with my mother. I wanted to feel just as lost in the local culture as the main character did.

Also, since the location was so remote, I was hoping no one here kept up with the Joneses. I needed to remain nameless, far far away from not only Hazmat finding me, but me running into a fan wearing their logo on a shirt.

And so far, despite the empty feeling in the pit of my stomach - I was enjoying myself.

As long as I did not think about the future, about what would happen when I eventually returned to Los Angeles, or what it would be like to listen to a Hazmat song again... I would be fine.