#can’t believe there’ll be ten volumes soon

[ello0u0]

SASAKI TO MIYANO: VOLUMES 1- 10

[justasparkwritings]

Merry & Bright: Baby, Please

Previous: Beacon in the Night

          Jungkook stares out the window of his bedroom, snow falling lightly, the only sound, his breath, slowly in and out. His phone, volume on, twirling absently between his fingers. In the distance, he can hear the other members laughing and yelling, their conversation and dinner prep echoing. The Yoongi’s space is attempting to be filled with their joy, as if laughing twice as hard would make up for his absence. Jungkook knows soon he’ll have to go out, pretend to be fine with the situation, and eat dinner. He’ll play make believe for as long as he can, but somewhere between dinner and the first movie or round of whatever game his hyungs force him to pick, Jungkook’s mind will slip.

           As he slips, his five hyungs will turn to the only thing that loosens him up, making his sadness bite a little bit less… Christmas Karaoke. They’ll queue the tracks, mixing in group songs with power ballads, a few hip hop and R&B tunes to balance the candy-coated sugar coma of the season, and for an hour or two, Jungkook won’t be swallowed in despair. But then, your favorite song will play, an accident, they didn’t know, and you will be the only thing on his mind. The tears will flow, mixing with whatever alcoholic beverage he’s consuming, and Jungkook will disappear into his bedroom, try not to call you, and force himself into an empty slumber.

           Instead, he’s staying on his bed, watching the snow fall in increasingly larger flakes, flurries swirling and sticking softly to the ground, building upon one another to form snowbanks.

           It’s in the middle of his reverie that his phone rings, your photo popping up.

           “Honey,” He says softly, doe eyes staring into yours.

           “Hi,” You sigh, his voice always feels like a warm embrace. It’s familiar and kind, steadfast in its ability to sooth you.

           “You look beautiful,” He smiles, eyes not crinkling at the edges.

           “Thanks, you look ethereal as always,” You smile, faltering as yours refuses to reach past your cheek bones.

           “Ethereal?” His expression is quizzical.

           “Yeah, I feel like it typically describes Jimin, but that hazy snow filter you’ve got going is just making you look so… heavenly,” You shrug.

           “You’re making me blush,” Jungkook’s smile moves closer to his wide eyes, nearly reaching as his cheeks turn a soft shade of crimson.

           “What are you up to?” You ask.

           “Sitting, feeling pathetic,” He says, the hint of a smile disappearing completely. You watch as his expression completely falls.

           “Kook,” You say, sympathetic to his pain.

           “I’m trying not to be so, sad, but it’s too hard,” He runs a hand through his hair, tussling the locks to one side, his undercut on full display.

           “I’m trying too, it just fucking sucks,” You say, instinctively adjusting your ponytail.

           “We had a plan, you know? We had a plan, we had arrangements, we had so much fun last year, and I was just so excited to share this Christmas with you, here,” His words are tumbling out of him, succinctly and organized.

           “I was looking forward to it... I bought a new hat,” You offer.

           “Oh?” He asks, happy for any sliver of joy.

           “Yeah, let me get it,” You stood up quickly, showing Jungkook your mid drift and legging clad legs as you moved through your bedroom to find your new beanie.

           “Aye, what are you wearing?” He asks, staring at the space your face was just in.

           “What? It’s a long sleeve cropped athletic shirt thing,” You answer, eyes narrowing. “Why?”

           “You look so sexy,” He says, a smirk on his lips, lust flickering in his eyes.

           “Jungkook,” You gasp.

           “Y/N,” He says eyebrow cocking.

           “Isn’t my new beanie cute?” You deflect the rising tension by placing your new cashmere beanie on your head. You bobble, showing the plush toggle on top.

           “It’s very cute,” Jungkook laughs.

           “I sent a few things to you,” You say, taking your hat off and sitting back down. “And by a few, I mean two boxes…”

           “Two boxes? How big are these boxes?” Laughter was in his voice as he waits for your response.

           “They’re standard, Jungkook,” You’re a little embarrassed by the amount of humor he’s finding in this admission of your Christmas splurge.

           “Standard? Oh my god, they’re huge!” Jungkook can’t stop laughing.

           “I got carried away, okay?” Your tone is defensive and chaste, a blush in your cheeks.

           “What’s in them?” He asks, the crinkles in his eyes present as his bunny teeth part to laugh again.

           “Goodies,” You say, trying to hide your smile by glaring at him.

           “Mm, what kind of goodies?” Jungkook settles down, taking a deep breath to tuck his laughs away.  

           “Get your mind out of the gutter, Jungkook,” You respond, faux shock laced in your words.

           Jungkook rolls his eyes at your gentle scolding.

           “What’s in the boxes?” He asks again.

           “Well, something for your hyungs,” You tell him.

           “You didn’t have to,” He’s always amazed by your generosity.

           “I know, I wanted to. It’s nothing big... I don’t know if they’ll even like it. They’re all wrapped, with their names on them. And I sent a few gifts for you, one from my aunts, one from my mom, and a few from me,” You rattle off the list, which seems far longer than Jungkook thought it would be.

           “You didn’t have to get me anything,” He says, a soft smile on his lips.

           “Jungkook, it’s Christmas,” You remind him.

           “I know, but they’re just items,” His words are delicate, he knows how you feel about the holiday.

           “I put a lot of thought into them okay?” Your annoyance is clear in the way your lips punctuate okay.

           “Hey, you know I’ll love them,” His eyes are trained on you, watching as you soften.

           “And you know, some cookies that will probably be smashed or stale… and a few, other items,” You shrug, a flirtatious look in your eyes.

           “Other items?” Jungkook raises his eyebrows, smirk on his lips. Had you sent him what he hoped for?

           “Mm, oh and something for your parents and Jung-Hyun.” You nod, signally the end of your list.

           “Jagi, you’re too sweet.”        

           “I know, my thoughtfulness is unparalleled,” You shrug at the compliment.

           “As is your humility,” He chuckles.

           “You love it,” You smirk.

           “I sent you something too,” Jungkook says, leaning back against his headboard.

           “Oh?” You’re not entirely surprised, but Jungkook has a way of getting you the perfect thing that you’d never in a million years pick for yourself. Your favorite cashmere sweater, the Chanel purse you vowed to yourself you’d buy when you made any money (which frankly, you never did), your favorite winter coat, a ring with gems from your birth months, a 14k white gold necklace with his initials, a tribute you were sure was tacky, but always made you feel closer to him… a photo album filled with your most precious memories… The year he created an entire journal full of art, poems, lyrics, that reminded him of you… You wanted for nothing, and Jungkook gave you everything.

           “Yes, it should be there soon,” Jungkook’s smile begins to falter.

           “Mine will be too,” You look down, picking at the piece of paper sat on your desk.

           “You’re not going to surprise me and send you know, yourself?” He whispers, knowing the answer.

           “No, I’m not shipping myself to you,” Your voice is hollow, eyes still downcast.

           “But can you?” His voice is small, fragile, weak.

           “Honey,” You sigh, shaking your head. “I can’t keep having this conversation, it hurts too much. It’s just one holiday. We spent decades without each other, can’t we make it through this?”

           “It’s been months, Y/N. I’ve tried holding back the tears, I’ve tried to sing and deck the halls with everyone, but it doesn’t feel like Christmas. I miss you in my bones,” Jungkook’s free hand clutches his chest, his eyelids becoming heavy as the tears start to form.

           “I feel it too… We’ve never gone this long without seeing each other,” You admit.

          The isolation of being apart from your lover for nearly a year… a year of fear, of anxiety, of sleepless nights and terrors as the world became overwhelmed by a pandemic, and the states were thrust into another round of Black Lives Matter protests coupled with an election that could be deemed as one of, if not the most, important election on American soil. All you wanted was Jungkook. His presence, ever calming, his joy, always contagious, was what your soul craved. You spent hours on video calls and phone calls, which often devolved into video sex, any form of intimacy you could muster to tie you to one another. The promotional work of BE, paired with the success of Dynamite and their Bang Bang Con and ONE concerts, Jungkook had zero ability to even try and find his way to you, or to chart a course for you to find him.

          It wasn’t fucking possible. He knew it, you knew it, and few things had been as devastating as realizing you were going an indefinite amount of time without each other.

           “Who am I going to kiss at midnight? Jimin?” Jungkook scoffs.

           “You’re performing, there’ll be so-

           “No, it won’t be you. I’m not kissing anyone except for you and our children,” Jungkook’s remark is flippant, a call back to a conversation you’d had months ago, wherein he asked where you thought your lives were headed.

           “Jungkook!” You say, eyes wide. You’d vowed to put talk of babies or marriage on the back burner until he had an idea of when he would do military service, before 30 or after. You hadn’t caught baby fever, but with Jungkook you knew it would hit and hit hard.

           “I didn’t know I would hurt this much, if I did, fuck, I would’ve flown you out sooner or come to you-

           “Jungkook you couldn’t have come to me, and there’s no way the government would’ve let me in.” Your tone is stern, moving quickly towards your limit of heartache.

           “I don’t fucking care!” Jungkook’s tears are flowing freely. You wonder if it was possible for anyone to cry us much as the two of you have in the past ten months.

           “I miss you every second of everyday,” Jungkook’s heartache punctuates every word.

           “Write me a song,” You suggest.

           “What?”

           “Write me a song, or five, fuck an entire album. Put your anguish into music, sing for me,” Your eyes are bright with possibilities.

           “I can do that,” He says, the idea sweeping over him like a wave in the pacific.

           “I’ll be here, embroidering and puzzling my sadness away,” You offer a smile. “Might as well put it into something productive.”

           “What if it doesn’t work?” He asks.

           “It won’t, I know it won’t, but can’t we just pretend it will?” You assured.

          “It’s hard to pretend my heart isn’t breaking over and over and over again.” Jungkook wipes his eyes, slightly alarmed at the number of tears he’d produced.

           “Mine is too,” Your words were soft, almost an echo of his hurt.

           “So, just, find a way to come home. Baby, please, just, come home for Christmas.”

Next: Pretend That We’re There

[crocodilenialledfics]

You’re all I need (the air I breathe)

Two - in which Niall and Stella study, plans are made, and secrets are not shared 

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The love-at-first-sight, falling-too-fast, uni au that will make your heart ache (in a good way)

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“Is this seat taken?” A voice asked from across the table. 

Stella sat up, blinking as she adjusted to something other than the fine print of Faulkner. It was Niall. Stella smiled, shaking her head. 

“Faulkner,” he commented, sitting down across from her. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fallen asleep reading his stuff.”

“William just rolled over in his grave,” Stella laughed, eyebrows raising. “You can’t talk about him like that.”

“I would say I didn’t mean it, but it’d be a lie,” Niall chuckled, pulling his book bag onto his lap. “I’m glad I ran into you. I wanted to ask you a favor- well I guess it’s not really a favor. A proposition, maybe- that didn’t sound like the right word either.”

“What is it?” Stella laughed, amused by his ramblings. 

“Well I’m in this art history class and I’m really not doing too well. The exams are really hard but our professor has given us extra credit opportunities,” he explained. “We can go to the museum and write a reflective paper. Was wondering if you wanted to come with me. I figured museums were right up your alley.”

“They are,” Stella nodded. Smiling she said, “I would love to go with you.”

“Aces,” Niall grinned. “We can go whenever you’re free.”

“What about this weekend?” Stella asked. “I work here in the evenings the next few days.”

“Saturday?” Niall asked. 

“Sounds good,” she nodded. 

Stella tried to fight the smile off of her face but the longer that Niall had his on his face, the harder it got. Until Niall laughed, looking away. Stella’s cheeks ached. 

The next few moments Niall got situated with his books in front of him. Stella read a little bit from her book but it was decided that Niall was a distraction. 

“You know anything about impressionist art?” Niall asked, eyes focused on the book in front of him. 

“I’m afraid not,” Stella mumbled, leaning on the table. 

“Me either,” he mumbled back, lifting his head to look at her. “I have an exam tomorrow. Think I’m gonna fail it.” 

“With that mindset, probably,” Stella agreed with a curt nod. 

Niall laughed, a loud one, much louder than probably what’s acceptable in a library. Stella couldn’t help her own laugh, one of surprise at the volume of his. 

“We’re in the library,” Stella emphasized, laughing along with him. 

Niall shook his head, containing his laughter. “Stop being funny, then.”

“Stop laughing like a crazy person,” Stella retorted, challenging him with her eyes. 

It was unfair, the chemistry they had. Stella thought it was a waste. Niall started telling her about the classes he was taking, asking about hers. It was the boring kind of conversation she had every time she met someone knew but listening to Niall was riveting. Maybe the most interesting thing she’d ever heard. 

Only when Niall’s stomach growled so loud that the walls nearly shook, did they leave. No homework was done. Niall didn’t study. He left knowing less about impressionists than he did when he walked in. That was all thanks to Stella and her infectious smile. 

Stella stood in the food line beside Niall, looking over the dinner options. It looked only half appealing. They’d been in uni for nearly a month and she felt like she’s eaten everything a million times. 

Niall got pasta while Stella got a quesadilla. They sat across from each other at a table in the back and Niall told her what it was really like living with Louis. 

“He wakes me up all the time,” Niall told her. “Middle of the night he’s kicked his shoe halfway across the room, fallen over before making it into bed. When he’s high, he’s absolutely useless.”

Stella was amused at that, nodding, she’d known him well enough to know first hand what a terror he was. Niall wasn’t complaining though. Louis was easygoing, didn’t care about much. 

“I talked to Nadia,” Niall told her, voice a bit rough. He cleared his throat. 

“How’d that go?” Stella asked, trying to sound concerned but not eager despite the way she felt. 

“She uh...” Niall trailed off, holding her gaze. “She’s moved on. Of sorts. Has a new... boyfriend- or at least someone that she wants to be her boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Stella murmured. “I’m really sorry. Is that what you wanted to happen?” 

“No,” Niall chuckled, shaking his head. “Like. I guess on some level I knew it’d happen. Just didn’t think it’d be so soon.”

“I bet,” Stella agreed, watching him closely. They’d only talked about it a couple weeks ago. It wasn’t that long ago. 

“I didn’t really feel anything,” he admitted. “Maybe just guilty that I didn’t feel anything. I don’t know. Does that make sense?” 

“Yeah, of course,” she nodded. “A three year relationship ending is kind of a big deal, I’d think. A part of your life is over and another one is starting.”

“I guess,” he agreed with a nod. “Truthfully I thought I’d be the one to end it. I respected her too much to get invested in someone else while we were still together-ish.”

“Right,” Stella nodded. “Were you planning on breaking up with her or was your heart still in it?” 

“I don’t know,” he laughed, shrugging. “I have no idea what I was going to do. What I wanted. What I felt. No idea.” 

“Well that’s okay,” Stella chuckled. “You can’t name every single feeling or thought.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed. 

“This other person...” Stella began slowly. “You’re still thinking about them?” 

Niall nodded, looking away, “I think that’s why I didn’t know anything- still don’t know anything. Can’t really read her.”

Stella hummed, declining to comment. Her curiosity got the best of her. She felt guilty for asking, though she wanted to know more. Everything about what he was thinking. 

“Anyways,” Niall chuckled, checking the time. “We should get going. I still have to fuckin study. You did nothing to help me.”

“I have to read ten chapters for class tomorrow,” Stella argued, laughing. “But all you wanted to talk about was how you thought all the artists were visually impaired and didn’t know it.” 

“It’s logical,” Niall argued with a smile. 

“Glasses were invented in the 1300’s,” Stella told him. 

“And what was the quality of glasses in the 1800’s?” He asked. 

“I don’t know,” Stella shrugged, standing up. 

“Wow so there’s something that Stella doesn’t know,” he murmured, standing up too. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“I don’t know lots of things,” Stella sighed, shouldering her bag. 

“Like?” 

“Like...” she trailed off, thinking it over. “I don’t know what happens to fish when water freezes. And I don’t know why there’s the temperature and then the real feel temperature.” 

“All very good questions,” Niall agreed. “I don’t know the answer to either of them.”

“I also don’t know who this mystery person is that you just can’t stop thinking about,” Stella added on, tactfully at that. 

Niall laughed, nodding, “that’s a secret.”

“Well maybe I have a person that I can’t stop thinking about too,” Stella shrugged, adjusting her bag on her shoulders. 

“Who?” Niall asked, head tilting to the side. 

“Oh it’s a secret,” Stella laughed as they began to walk outside. 

“Ha ha,” he deadpanned. “You just made it up to get back at me.” 

“I didn’t,” Stella shook her head. “There is a person that I can’t stop thinking about.” 

“One day I’ll get you to spill,” Niall told her, very confidently. Stella believed him, too. 

“Only if you tell me yours,” Stella said with a shrug as if the thought didn’t make her want to vomit anyways. It was a very stupid deal. 

“Is it Zayn?” He asked. 

“I’m not saying,” Stella laughed, shaking her head. “My lips are sealed.”

“Fine,” he mumbled, eying her skeptically. 

“Besides,” Stella murmured, looking up at him. “I’ve got my person and you’ve got yours.”

// 

Stella and Niall stood side by side, eyes on Renoir’s La Grenouillère. Niall’s face was scrunched up and Stella tried her best not to laugh but she did, hand over her mouth. 

“What?” Niall laughed. “I’m trying to look at this painting.” 

“Well why are you squinting?” Stella asked, eyebrows furrowing. 

“It’s blurry like,” he laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t know.” 

“And squinting would make it more blurry, right?” Stella asked, looking back to the painting. 

“I don’t know,” he laughed, slouching. “Help me.”

“So just look at it,” Stella told him, voice soft. “Think about what you see. How it makes you feel.” 

“I just don’t know,” he repeated, shaking his head. “They’re having a party.” 

“Yeah,” Stella nodded. 

“Is that right?”

“There’s no right answer to impressionist art,” Stella told him, turning to face him. “That’s the point. They’re open ended, like. That’s why they’re blurry so there isn’t any specific details, you can imagine or feel your own.”

“Fuck,” Niall whispered. “I got a whole section wrong on my exam.”

“Jesus,” Stella laughed, shaking her head. “Okay let’s keep going. Maybe there’ll be one you can... feel.”

“I like history,” Niall muttered. “Where there’s just facts. That-that this is what happened and you don’t have to imagine your own version of events.” 

Stella shook her head as they continued walking down the row of art hanging on the walls. She could admire the beauty in art. Literature and art went hand in hand. History went along with them too, Stella just didn’t want to be the person to tell him that. 

They stopped in front of Monet’s Sunrise. Niall let out a disgruntled sigh, rubbing his eyes, “This is quite literally a mess I..” 

“It’s a sunset,” Stella told him, pointing toward the setting sun. 

“Stella, I have to tell you something,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m like colorblind. I have trouble with the greens and blues and yellows.”

“Niall,” Stella laughed, rubbing her head. 

“I didn’t think it’d be a problem but since impressionist art is erm...” he trailed off, looking up respectfully. “Blurry?”

“I think that this effects your ability to write a reflective piece on art, wouldn’t you think?” Stella asked, eyebrows raised. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, eyes trailing over the paintings in front of him. “Can you help me? I’m so desperate, Stel. This impressionist shit is so hard. One bad grade and I lose my scholarship. I’ll have to go back to London and get a fuckin’ job the last thing I want is to-“

“Okay,” Stella cut him off with a gentle laugh. “I’ll help you. You’re doing all the writing, though. And you have to try.”

“I will,” he nodded. “You have no idea how much this means to me. I really appreciate it. I’ll buy you lunch. And coffee. And dinner!”

“That’s really not necessary,” Stella laughed, nodding toward the next painting. They began walking. “But of course, I’ll take you up on it.”

They must have stood in front of twenty different paintings. It was an obvious struggle, but Niall tried. With Stella’s help he’d settled on the one he’d write about. It was Les Déjeuner sur l’herb. A non complicated piece by Édouard Manet about eating lunch in the grass. 

Niall and Stella found themselves on the futon in his room, two coffees between them and lunch on the way. Niall had his laptop on his lap, eyebrows scrunched up as he worked on his reflective piece. 

Stella was there for what seemed like moral support, and maybe possibly revisions. She zoned out looking at the ceiling, thinking about how romantic museums really are. She thought about how she’d love to be kissed in front of Les Printemps by Pierre-August Cot. Or to hold hands in front of The Kiss by Auguste Rodin. 

“Okay,” Niall said, pulling Stella from her thoughts. “I think I’m almost finished. What do you think?” 

Niall passed her the laptop. She set it on her lap, sitting up. Stella read his work carefully, admiring his writers voice. It was detailed for the length of it. Surely, an extra credit worthy piece. 

“It looks good,” Stella told him with a nod, looking up at him. 

“You think it should be longer?” 

“No it’s a good size,” Stella shook her head. “Especially because you’re just writing a one piece reflection. If you were comparing two paintings, or reflecting on Manet’s work as a whole it’d be a bit longer.” 

“Okay,” Niall nodded, letting out a sigh. He looked up at her, taking the laptop back. “You know we’re doing this once every unit, you know.”

Stella laughed, shaking her head. Niall’s phone rang as he smiled, sitting up. He answered it, already standing up. He slipped his shoes on, grabbing his wallet off the table. “I’ll be right back,” he mouthed, nodding to the door. 

Stella nodded, slouching down on the futon. She took a sip of coffee as the door closed behind him. The door swung right back open and Louis walked in, a grin on his face, “Stella Bella. What’s going on here?” 

“Helping Niall with some homework,” Stella chuckled, looking up at him. 

Louis sat down beside her, shoulders bumping into hers. “Tomorrow we’re all going to Whitworth to play a bit of footie. Like everyone’s coming. You should too.”

“Is veda going?” 

“Yeah.”

“Zayn?”

“Yeah.”

“Niall?”

“Yeah.”

“Heather?” 

“Stella don’t worry about it,” Louis laughed. 

“Just tell me so I’m prepared.”

“By prepared I hope you mean you’ll leave your cat claws at home,” Louis chuckled. “She’s coming.”

“Great,” she mumbled, shaking her head. 

“She’s bringing Liam, Danielle, and this new girl Eleanor. I guess she’s like incredible looking. And smart and funny and- just play nice, okay?” Louis nearly begged, sitting up.

“I always play nice with everyone except fuckin’ Heather,” Stella mumbled almost begrudgingly. 

Louis went over to his desk, pulling out some books to shove into his book bag. “I’m going to the library to work on this math shit with Veda.” 

“Have fun,” Stella mumbled. 

“Yeah you have fun too, Stella,” Louis grinned, walking toward her. “Have I told you recently how much Niall just loves you.” 

“Go away,” Stella laughed, putting her foot out to nudge him away. 

“We’ll talk later,” he promised with a wink, hearing for the door. “Hands stay above the waist, you hear me? No funny business on my futon.”

“Fuck off,” Stella shot back, shaking her head as he walked out. It made her cheeks flush, just the mention of that. She didn’t think about it, or didn’t have the time to because Niall came back with their food. 

He set the pizza down on the table in front of them, sitting down on the futon beside her. He sighed, turning the tv on. “What do you wanna watch?” 

“Anything,” Stella shrugged, sitting up. She opened the box, picking up a slice for herself. 

“Thanks again for helping me,” Niall told her as the Netflix logo appeared on the screen. “It means a lot.”

“Of course,” Stella smiled, watching him grab his own slice of pizza. 

“You ever need help with history, let me know,” Niall told her, flashing her a smile as he sat back. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Stella nodded, eyes lingering on him a bit longer than necessary.  She wanted to take him all in, the smile on his face, the way his eyes shined. Niall let her, holding her gaze. Stella was beginning to feel that there was something unspoken between them. She was dying for Niall to say it.

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[scotianostra]

On Monday October 22nd 1877 tragedy struck when a firedamp explosion at Blantyre Colliery killed 215miners, the youngest was aged 12.

Numbers and the age of the youngest casualty vary a wee bit, this post is about all that lost their lives no corrections are necessary.

Every year I come across this anniversary I can't believe another year has past, this was Scotland's worst ever mining accident, it is not an easy read, I have mixed emotions of sadness and anger knowing how any loss of life can affect a mining community. It's not only the disaster itself that gets me like this but the events beforehand and afterwards.....

In High Blantyre, Lanarkshire, a few hundred yards from where African explorer David Livingstone was born, stood five pits run by William Dixon Ltd. Together they produced hundreds of thousands of tons of coal and made wealthy men of the mine owners. The miners and their families, by contrast, carried out back-breaking work for little more than a pittance and were housed in cramped tied cottages. The High Blantyre pits were known locally as "The Fiery Mine" because of the heavy presence of a gas called firedamp, which consisted chiefly of methane.

It was an ordinary Monday morning in Blantyre as people were going about their business when around 8.50 the sound of a huge explosion reverberated for miles sending flame up to of the five mine shafts, it's a day the town will always remember as over 200 Blantyre men and boys were killed, sending shockwaves of grief through Blantyre.

A local newspaper reported at the time:

"How indelibly it is engraven on our memory. A sudden flash arose …then forthwith a dense volume of smoke, 'the blackness of darkness', which spread itself, a terrible funeral pall, over the surrounding plain. We were soon at the scene of the disaster, whither hundreds of eager and terrified creatures were hurrying, and there for hours we remained, a stricken shepherd amongst a stricken flock."

It took a week of painstaking searching with the stench of firedamp continually hanging in the air before the bodies were all recovered. The accident left 92 widows and 250 fatherless children. An inquiry into the disaster failed to find the precise cause of the explosion but it is generally held to be a sudden release of gas that was then ignited by a naked flame.

Complaints about the working conditions at High Blantyre had been made over and over again. They were, as in most pits, ignored. Only days before the explosion a foreman named Joseph Gilmour had told a group of unhappy miners that, "There'll not be a man fall in this pit, I'll guarantee that".

A year before, the Blantyre miners had been so fearful for their safety in the mines that, when Dixons refused them a wage rise to compensate, they went on strike and were immediately sacked. They and their families were evicted from their homes, with police officers using clubs on hand if necessary. The mine owners turned to Irish Catholics to take the place of the men. Two years on and disaster struck High Blantyre for a second time when an explosion killed 28 workers.

Soon after the second blast Dixons erected a large granite monument to commemorate those who had lost their lives. The site of the mine now lies buried under the East Kilbride Expressway. The heavy-handed behaviour of mine owners like those at Blantyre undoubtedly had a great influence on the rise of left-wing politics in industrial Scotland and stimulated men like the Red Clydesiders to act on behalf of the poor and downtrodden.

There is one quite disgraceful postscript to the disaster at High Blantyre. Six months afterwards, Dixons raised summonses against 34 widows whose husbands had been killed and who had not left their tied cottages despite having received eviction notices. The women told a sheriff at Hamilton Sheriff Court they could not afford to pay a rent elsewhere. He said they should be grateful the firm had allowed them to stay in the houses so long and ordered them to be evicted in two weeks time.

After losing their menfolk in Scotland's worst mining tragedy it is most likely that the widows of Blantyre and their children were sent to the Poor House - to be hidden from view as a social stigma.

There is an annual march in Blantyre to commemorate the disaster, I don't know if it will be going ahead today ,but let’s send out a message to them all that we share your grief.

Last night  The Blantyre Telegraph arranged and lit 215 flame effect lights around the memorial base at High Blantyre Cross.

If you want to know more about the Blantyre disaster there is a host of info here https://blantyreproject.com/blantyre-pit-disaster.

Dick Gaughan's voice lends itself to lament's like this, please have a wee listen and think of all those lives this disaster must have touched.........

By Clyde’s bonny banks as I sadly did wander, Amang the pit heaps, as evening drew nigh, I spied a fair maiden all dressed in deep mourning, A weeping and wailing, with many a sigh.

I stepped up beside her, and thus I addressed her, Pray tell me, fair maid, of your trouble and pain. Sobbing and sighing, at last she did answer. Johnny Murphy, kind sir, was my true lover’s name.

Twenty one years of age, full of youth and good looking, To work down the mines of High Blantyre he came. The wedding was fixed, all the guests were invited, That calm summer’s evening young Johnny was slain.

The explosion was heard, all the women and children With pale anxious face made haste to the mine. The news was made known, the hills rang with their mourning. Two hundred and ten young miners were slain.

Now children and wives, and sweethearts and parents, That Blantyre explosion they’ll never forget. And all you young miners who hear my sad story, Shed a tear for the victims who’re laid to their rest.

[heartbreakerholland]

a temporary home pt. 2 [t.h. & h.o.]

Word Count: a rocky 5.9k

A/N: yay i’ve finally got it up!! let me know what you think 🤗

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[pt. 1]

•••

Distant music entered your dreams until you softly woke. You opened your eyes, met with yellow morning light that glowed around the room, peeking through closed curtains. You stared at them and wondered why they didn't seem right until you realized it was because they weren't yours.

You lifted your head slightly and looked around the room, realizing it was Harrison's. The curtains were his. The duvet covering your body was his, as well as the clothes you wore. The heavy mass next to you was him, still asleep and laying on his belly.

You rubbed your eyes and carefully sat up so not to wake him. You checked the time on your phone from the nightstand next to you, reading it was too early in the morning for either of the boys to be up. You laughed at yourself while you assessed your surroundings, amused that you didn't remember you were now living with them. It wasn't the first time waking up in Harrison's bed, but for some reason it felt odd. New. Promising.

You realized the music that invaded your dreams happened to be coming from the ceiling, which was probably from whoever lived above. Your new neighbor, you could say.

Quietly, you left Harrison's room and tiptoed to what you could now call your own. You shut the door and said to yourself, "Alright, Y/N. Just unbox really quick then you can eat breakfast." Your eyes went from one side of the room to the other, the messily placed bags and boxes overwhelming you.

-

Tom woke to the glorious smell of cooked food, which immediately got him out of bed with eager confusion. Harrison cooked from time to time but only ever at night, so the smell was an odd intruder.

The brunette lumbered out of his room and caught on to the sound of soft voices from the kitchen.

". . . sounds fun and all, but I could never go with my friends because I was always working." Silverware clinking plates followed after your voice.

Tom didn't try to be quiet when he approached the two bodies, his feet shuffling heavily against the hardwood floor, but a deeper voice carried on with the conversation.

"Well now you've got no excuse, so I'm definitely taking you, love." Harrison didn't even try to hide his excitement. "Should be fireworks tonight as well."

The blond seemed to be waiting for your response, but you looked up to have your gaze meet Tom's when he finally moved to your line of sight. Harrison was sat closest to him on one side of the kitchen island, back facing away from Tom, while you were stood on the other side. Your plates on the island still had food on them, and Tom realized the two of you were still eating. He sat next to Haz and rested his elbows on the countertop.

You smiled at him. "Good morning, Tom! Want me to fix you a plate? I just finished cooking like ten minutes ago, so food's still warm." You were already turning around to ready his breakfast before he could even nod.

"Oh, sure," he said, a bit surprised. His eyes still felt heavy from just waking up and he was definitely too tired to object or question your manner. "Morning, mate," he said to Haz, and patted his friend's back as a greeting. "What're you two on about?"

Harrison turned his body to face Tom's, clearly wide awake and beaming. "Apparently Y/N's not been to that fair they have 'round here every year, so I'll be taking her today." He proceeded to eat the sunny-side up eggs on his plate, and Tom stayed silent despite knowing Harrison hated eggs cooked like that.

The situation was almost funny to him. Harrison met you long before introducing you to Tom, and it was obvious there was a deeper connection Haz had with you. He did anything for you, and that was the clear truth when James slyly took you away from your best friend. Harrison backed off and allowed the distance because he knew how much James had meant to you at the time. Even when you lost your way, Haz was looking out for you in his own ways. Anybody would be jealous with your relationship with him, it being obvious that you'd never meet the same level with anyone else.

It was stupid, really. He thought Harrison had better judgement than to wait for a silly girl, but you still managed to have the blond boy wrapped around your finger and you didn't even know it. It was frustrating, knowing who you were and what you've done. He had to look out for his best friend, but it was difficult when Harrison's vision was clouded by you ever since he met you. Instead, the problem could only be dealt with and never vanished completely.

You placed a plate full of food in front of Tom as well as a mug of tea and the needed silverware.

He gave you a lazy smile. "Thank you, darling." Instinctively, Tom winced and grabbed a fork, gripping it tightly. It was obviously too early for him for his disliking towards you to manifest. Grogginess was truly a burden.

It wasn't that you stole his best friend from him. Tom was almost happy, even, for Harrison. Anything you did made him happy, and Tom noticed how he tried to do the same for you. Then he learned what truly happened before you met James, and Tom couldn't forgive you for that. Ever since then, nothing sat right for him. He could only be a mere onlooker who had the fortune of learning how you worked. Nothing you did could have been truthful, for all he knew. Nothing could be real.

Harrison confusedly glanced at him, but you paid the slip-up no mind. "Oh, you should come with us, Tom! Maybe meet a cute girl or something, show the world that you're alive, who knows."

If he weren't still waking up, he'd have noticed by now how oddly chipper you were acting. Instead, he was casual and reminded himself that it would be rude to scoff down all the tempting food in front of him. "Have you not unpacked yet?" he asked you.

"I started two hours ago, actually," you answered. "Just finished before cooking breakfast. . . So does that mean you'll come to the fair with me and Haz?"

"I've actually got a date," he announced, which wasn't a lie. He took a bite out of his food and nearly melted. "Mmpth thee yew ferr ackookly."

You and Harrison chuckled. "Swallow then talk, mate," Haz said. "Swallow then talk."

He gulped down the food. "Might see you there, actually," he corrected. Tom reached for his mug and brought it up to his mouth, noticing your attention was on him. He squinted at you but took a mouthful in anyways, which only resulted in him splattering the tea back in the cup.

"Ha ha," he said. "Think you're funny, eh, Y/N?"

Harrison amusedly watched the situation unfold with food in his own mouth.

You shrugged with a smirk. "Get that bitter taste out, yet?"

Harrison swallowed his food along with a laugh. "Y/N put too much sugar, eh? Guess you deserved that from last night, mate."

Tom had to give it to you, you were clever. Always clever. He looked at his friend and saw the humor in his eyes, and it was hard not to have the same look on his own face for once. "No, actually. She's put salt in my tea. Fuckin' salt. . . Can you believe it?"

Haz finally let out the laugh he was holding. Nonchalantly, you said, "Just thought your tea should be as salty as you, Thomas."

-

Later in the day, a knock came from your closed door as soon as you finished getting dressed from showering. You opened it to be greeted by a certain blue eyed boy, whom you welcomed in to your room. He sat on the foot of your bed while you sat yourself at your vanity.

"Ready, yet?" he asked. "Figured we should get there soon or else there'll be no parking."

You looked at each other through the mirror in front of you, to which you realized he was dressed and ready to go himself.

"Almost." You smiled at him. You were honestly nervous about going, but Haz didn't need to know that. You knew he would feel guilty for bringing you along, and he deserved to enjoy himself. You had to give him that.

A moment of silence ensued before he spoke up again. "Y/N? Is there another reason why you've not been to the fair yet?"

You sighed and looked down. Should you tell the truth or make up a white lie?

"I. . . uh."

The reason was embarrassing. It was because of James, whom you should've been over by now considering how long ago the breakup was.

"Yeah," you confessed. "James took me the first year we were together. We didn't go after that because he didn't want to, then after the breakup I was afraid I'd see him there. . . Still too many memories, y'know?"

Harrison made his way to stand behind you and rubbed your back. He gave you a soft smile through the mirror. "Fuck James," he said bravely. "We'll make better memories on our own."

You turned your head to face him directly and smiled back. "Thanks, Hazzy."

After a beat, you both got your belongings and made your way to the fair.

You sat in the passenger seat of Harrison's car, automatically entitled to connect your phone to the aux cord and play DJ for the car ride. Both of you began mumbling to your music while Harrison started the drive, still adjusting to the scene.

You turned down the volume so he could hear your next words. You faced your body towards him and though he couldn't do the same, you knew he was listening.

"Look, I know it can be really annoying if I talk about James so much, so I'm sorry. . . But is it okay if I do right now?" Having to confess that your ex was the reason you avoided the fair had left the thought of him lingering in your mind.

He raised his eyebrows, both hands steady on the steering wheel. "I'm all ears, love."

You took a breath. Harrison was safe. A safe person who could keep your words safe.

"It's taken me a while to realize," you started. You racked your brain to vocalize what you'd been thinking for quite some time now. "He's done a lot of damage, Harrison." You watched your hands fiddle together, unsure why what you knew for so long was difficult to say out loud. "I can't completely trust anyone anymore because he ruined that for me, y'know? Well, except for you, obviously. . . But it's hard to put my faith in people now because I could never know what their intentions are."

Harrison glanced at you worriedly. He stayed silent and you could tell it was because he was thinking of what to say. After a moment, he finally replied. "He hurt you, Y/N. He was the one who manipulated you and did all that shit and s'all on him, not you. It's fine you're still getting over it, but not everyone's James."

Harrison placed his right hand on your thigh and squeezed a little, silently telling you to look up at him. You did, and he gave you a comforting smile.

He spoke up after another moment. "You really don't seem as closed off as you make it sound," he confessed. "Looks more like y'just try to make everyone happy. Tom's noticed as well. Mentioned it before, I think."

You sighed. You were surprised to hear the two even noticed. You knew you did it, not on purpose, for reasons you didn't want to say. "Yeah. . ."

Your best friend glanced at you again, feeling your discomfort. He rolled down his window and stuck his head partially out with a smile. "Fuck James!" he yelled to the wind.

You started laughing. Suddenly your window was being rolled down as well, courtesy of Harrison, who nodded at you to follow him. "F-Fuck," you began, but burst into more fits of laughter.

It was a funny idea, thinking if you were a random passerby and heard somebody shout curses out their window for a certain James.

"Fuck James!" he yelled again, this time at the windshield.

"Yeah," you said with a big smile. You turned to stick your head out your window, not caring about what the wind could do to you. "Yeah!" you yelled this time. "Fuck James!"

"Fuck James!"

"FUUUUUCK JAAAAMES!"

Your antics continued for a delightful minute, the two of you repeating yourselves over and over. It stopped with only laughter to follow.

You could never be happier with your relationship with Harrison. Life was hard for everyone, but being best friends allowed you to carry your burdens together. You were thankful that you could tell him anything and know he'd do the same, even if it included all the nooks and crannies of a bad relationship.

"Oh, I love this song!" Harrison exclaimed out of nowhere. He turned up the volume which tugged your thoughts away, and took the liberty to belt the lyrics with the artist, and you did the same. Just like that, the bitter aftermath of your ex was gone with the wind, if only for a moment.

You and Harrison simultaneously grabbed each other's hand over the console. You raised both of yours, taking his with you while his other stayed on the wheel, and jiggled in your seat to match the beat of the song. Nothing unusual.

You looked over at your best mate, who lifted his face towards the sky every now and then to comically emphasize the energy in the music while he sang. You did the same as well, both of you filled with laughter waiting to come up between each breath.

You could never thank Harrison enough for being your closest friend. He was there to give you the rational idea of things just as much as he could give you a good laugh. You couldn't call it a day unless you had your banter with him, and you could never call it a night unless you wished each other a goodnight. You knew each other like you knew how many fingers you had, a matter of fact that you'd always be in each other's lives unless it was damn well forced out. (Even then, you'd still have nine more fingers.)

The song ended, but the next one came and it was all the same.

This was what a normal car ride consisted of. This was what being content felt like. This was a good home.

-

"You really didn't have to try and win that big banana for me," Tom's date, Beth, told him.

He had an arm around her waist while she hugged her small stuffed prize. They were leisurely walking around the venue of the fair, day slowly turning to night already.

He shrugged. "Y'said it was cute, so I figured you ought to have it. 'M sorry you've got to settle for less, darling. Guy at the stand was a bloke anyways." It was embarrassing, really, putting so much effort only to get a stupid little stuffed banana instead of a big stuffed banana.

She giggled and looked up at her date. "You do know all the games are rigged, right?"

He paused and wanted to slap his forehead. Did he really forget? "That would've been nice to remember, actually."

She laughed again then said, "I'm sorry you've wasted so much money on me. I can pay for things too, y'know."

Tom shook his head. "What? 'S'not a waste, love. If you're happy, I'm happy. I've got a job anyways, I can pay for it."

For first dates, this one was going scary well. Too-good-to-be-true well. He hoped nothing would happen, even like spilling a drink on Beth. He was genuinely excited to see what could happen between them in the future, and he hasn't felt like that for a girl in quite some time now.

"Oi! Is that my div?" a familiar voice called from behind.

Naturally, Tom would assume it was just a stranger calling for another stranger, but he knew the voice too well. He stopped and turned around to face the caller, with Beth doing the same since Tom's arm was still wrapped around her.

He smiled, happy to see the blond boy heading their way. When Harrison finally made it to stand in front of the two, Tom introduced Beth. "Beth, this is my best mate, Harrison. Harrison, this is Beth."

"Lovely to meet you," Harrison smiled. "Oh, this is Y/N! Where'd she go off to?" He turned around to see you following close behind, then stopping to face everyone.

Tom's face fell. Fuck, he thought. I forgot she was here.

"Y/N," Harrison began. "This is. . . Beth, was it? Yeah, this is Beth."

Your face lit up and you immediately began talking to Beth animatedly, as if you've known her for longer than two seconds.

Tom pulled Harrison to the side. "Mate," he whispered. "I love you and all, but can you try and leave us off to it? The date's going really well and I don't want a double date or anything."

Harrison chuckled and gave Tom a friendly slap on the back. "Yeah, I get it. I take it you won't be coming 'round tonight then?”

The brunette shook his head. If he wanted a one night stand, he wouldn't have gone through all this trouble for it. He saw something in Beth, and he genuinely hoped things went well with her. "This is different."

Harrison looked taken aback, knowing how difficult it really was for Tom to feel a connection with someone like he was showing now. "Well we're definitely having a chat when you get back. . . But I'll make sure we stay away," he winked.

Tom sighed in relief and quickly hugged his friend with a thank you. The two made their way back to you and Beth, who were still in what looked like an exciting conversation. It almost impressed Tom, how fast you got along with her, but he couldn't let his mind wander now.

He instinctively wrapped his arm back around Beth's waist. "Shall we go now, love?"

She shook her head with a light in her eyes, much to Tom's surprise. "Would you mind if we have a double date or something? I'd really hate to lose Y/N—"

His grin turned fake and he willed his grip on her not to tighten. "H can just give you Y/N's number, love. I'd hate for the queues for food to get long—"

"Oh!" you interrupted, matching Beth's eagerness. "I'd love to have a little double date! That would be so fun—"

"Maybe another time, love," Harrison joined. He saw the pain in Tom's eyes and knew this wasn't a situation they wanted to prolong. He wrapped his own arm around your waist, slightly tugging on your side to subtly pull you away from Tom and Beth. "I've actually got something I wanted to. . . show you?"

Beth turned her body to face Tom's completely and showed him her full attention. "Please, Tom? It would be so fun!" The boys glanced at each other, speaking with their eyes. They couldn't escape like they thought. Tom spared a look at you, hoping something fashionable like lasers would come out of his eyes. What could you have possibly said to make his date like you so fast? He smiled at Beth. "A game wouldn't hurt, I guess."

-

You and Beth walked together side by side, the boys following closely behind. You didn't normally make friends as fast as you did with her, but something clicked that made it so easy.

"That game was such bullshit," the girl said to you comfortably. "You got the basketball in the hoop! The lady never said you couldn't touch the rim! Bullshit, I'm tellin' ya."

You laughed, her rambling lifting your spirits.

The sky was completely dark now, the only lighting coming from the fair venue. Rides and stands for games and food completely lit up your surroundings, so brightly that you could've been convinced it was still daytime. Chatter from the average passerby filled your ears, as well as screams from various rides and live music playing somewhere you couldn't see. Variations of cooked food constantly moved past you, putting your nostrils in overload from all the scents. Everything about the fair gave such a classic feeling, which you enjoyed completely, especially with friends accompanying you.

Out of nowhere, Harrison appeared at your side and Tom at Beth's.

"Hey, love," Harrison said. He put a loose grip on your arm, nothing out of the ordinary. You turned your head to face him and vaguely noticed Beth did the same with Tom, as he called her name too.

"Mind if I pull you over for a second?" your best friend asked with a smile.

Not thinking too much of it, you looked around for a spot for the two of you to sit and talk. Your gaze focused on a game instead, more specifically the infamous strength tester game.

"Oh, Hazzy!" You lifted a finger to point in the direction of the attraction, catching the attention of Beth and Tom as well. "I bet I can beat you there!"

You began to walk faster, not caring if anyone followed. Harrison jogged past you immediately. "You're fucking on, div!" he practically yelled.

You, Beth, and Tom all leisurely caught up to Harrison, who was already paying to play. Tom went next in line, just about forgetting you and Beth behind him.

You crossed your arms and chuckled, standing next to Beth while the two of you watched Harrison.

Beth copied your motions. "Typical," she said amusedly.

"They work out a lot," you shrugged. "Sometimes they need to pull the ruler out, y'know what I mean?"

She laughed and you watched as Harrison nearly got it to the top, but not completely. You laughed at that, knowing you wouldn't hear the end of it for the next couple days.

"Beth? No way!" a voice said from behind.

The two of you turned around to be met with an unfamiliar face.

Beth smiled. "No way! Y/N, this is Josh, we—erm—went to secondary school together."

You greeted Josh, but before you could get any further in conversation, you noticed it was your turn to play. A small wave of guilt washed over you, barely noticeable, when you realized you and Beth completely missed Tom's turn. You knew he would blame you if he realized.

You stepped forward, trying to clear your mind and focused solely on beating Harrison's score. The boys were watching off to the side, which you knew was so you could feel added pressure. You grabbed the mallet and lifted it past your head, noticing an odd weight appearing and quickly vanishing at the end of it. You thought nothing of it, and slammed the mallet on the base of the tower. You watched eagerly, nearly having tunnel vision as you focused on your score.

"Damn it!" you exclaimed. You got the same score as Harrison.

You turned around only to see both your roommates as well as Josh knelt on the ground with Beth laying on it.

"What happened?" you asked innocently. You didn't even notice your roommates leave their previous spots.

Tom angrily turned to face you. "You, fuck's sake! You hit her with the mallet, Y/N!"

Your hands immediately went to cover your mouth. Shock rushed through you, knowing you were the reason your new friend was on the pavement in pain. You watched the three boys bent over her, hearing their words of worry.

"I should go home," Beth announced with a hand on top of where you guessed she was hit.

"Yeah, I'll give you a ride, love," Tom agreed. He stood up and got ready to help his date up.

She declined him, instead allowing her friend, Josh, to do so. "Actually, I think it would be better if Josh did." Tom's back faced you, but you knew his face fell because you felt yours fall itself.

Beth and Josh gave him an apologetic smile.

"Oh," his voice faltered. "Uhm, okay. . . I'm so sorry this date didn't go too well, but. . . I hope I can see you again?"

She glanced at you. It was then that you wished you warned Tom sooner of what she told you about her true feelings throughout the day: She lost her interest in him. It was why she was so adamant about having a "double date." Beth didn't know how else to break it to Tom, so you agreed to the plan since you felt bad for the girl even if you considered him your friend.

"I'm sorry, Tom," she said. "Probably not."

Before anything could get tenser, you walked closer to the small group. Harrison and Josh silently observed everything, and all three boys followed you with their eyes.

"I am so sorry, Beth," you told her. You leaned in for a hug, her reciprocating, and you whispered so the boys couldn't hear. "You won't stop talking to me, will you?"

You felt her body rumble with light laughter under your arms. "No, of course not," she whispered back.

The two of you let go and you let out a sigh of relief. Maybe you physically hurt her on accident, but at least she didn't want to stop being friends. You did feel a bit bad for basically shutting down Tom's date, but you silently thanked the night sky for having both of you trade phone numbers earlier in the day.

With no further goodbyes, Beth left with Josh. As soon as they got out of earshot, Tom turned to you and hovered a menacing finger over your chest.

"This is your fucking fault," he hissed.

Harrison immediately stepped forward and placed his hands between you and Tom. "Woah, mate. It was just an accident."

You could see the red in the brunette's face as well as a couple veins popping out under the lights of the fair. He faced his friend, and you were worried he would direct his anger towards him. You readied yourself to defend Haz. Tom was right; this was your fault and you were ready to own up to it.

"She fucking got on with Beth and basically ended our date right then and there. She spent more time with Beth than me which probably made Beth decide she didn't want a second date. She saw that dumbarse game and got us to play it. She was the one who hit Beth with the fucking mallet. This is her. Fucking. Fault."

Okay. Woah. That was a lot to own up to. You had no time to defend yourself as Harrison did it for you, though frankly, you didn't want any of it.

"Mate," he pressed. He stood himself closer to Tom which nearly alienated you from the two. "It was an accident. Beth forgave her and you should too. If it's not meant to be then it's not meant to be."

Tom's eyes were bulging out of their sockets. His fists were clenching and unclenching, and his eyes never left Harrison's. "I don't care, mate! Beth's not Isabella! But—"

"Woah, Tom," you interjected, moving around to get between the boys. You were shocked to hear that name, knowing how low of a blow it was to Harrison. You completely faced Tom now. "That's not cool. Just say shit to me. Haz doesn't deserve that, and she has nothing to do with this anyways."

He stepped forward and lowered his head closer to you. His next words came out in a deadly, threatening whisper. "You've not changed a bit, Y/N. Fuck you."

-

The drive back home was silent, Harrison having decided too much was on your mind to talk. He couldn't blame you, considering his thoughts were racing just as much.

The day was such a blast that he honestly wouldn't have believed it would go downhill. Double date with Tom and Beth or not, fun was fun. However, he was still trying to decide why he had such a good time. Part of him was dismissing it as just an eventful day at the fair with his best friends, while another part of him lingered on one particular friend to be the reason.

His history with you was. . . well. He met you, you became one of his best mates, then he met another girl. He and that girl dated, they broke up, then you met James. You ditched Harrison for James, you and James broke up, you came back to Harrison, then were best mates all over again.

It should have been as simple as explaining it that way, but it really wasn't. If he had to explain the dynamics and feelings between you and him, then it was just plain weird.

How would he explain his eagerness to spend time with you, or his genuine interest in yours? How could he word his thoughts that told him some people simply balance each other out, like how neither of you could complain about your constantly cold fingertips because it felt just right in the warm crooks of his back? How might he tell you that he slightly enjoyed your rivalry with Tom because not only did it show the effort you were willing to put for your friendship, but also because it was always a valid reason just to talk to you?

He could never explain any of that. He tried with Tom, but Tom just accused Harrison of having a crush on you and that wasn't it. Crushes were spontaneous and filled with nerves and stuttering and risks. What he had with you was comfortable with warmth and silky words and content. Crushes were temporary. What Harrison felt was permanent, having lodged itself in his chest since he met you, and from how long it's been there? He knew it would never leave.

He parked his car, finally making it back to the flat. Harrison looked over at you, half asleep and leaning on your arm against the window.

"Y/N," he said softly, shaking you awake. "We're here, love."

You groaned, wiping off drool from the side of your mouth. "I don't want to go inside. . . Tom will be there and he hates me," you whined.

The blond chuckled at your childish words, signaling to him that your sleepy state was overpowering everything else. "S'alright, I'll talk to him. Just go in your room and you can go back to sleep."

You slowly blinked. "Okay. . . I'm sorry we couldn't see the fireworks."

"S'alright, love," he repeated himself with a smile.

He followed your slow moving figure from behind as you entered the flat, groggily making it to your room while he made his way to Tom's.

Harrison lifted his hand in front of the closed door but hesitated and held it in the air. He glanced down at his socked feet from removing his shoes when he entered. He planned how the conversation would go during the drive, so why was he hesitant now? He might as well have prepared for a public speech, readying his points to be made and questions to ask.

He shook his head and looked back up at the door in an attempt to clear the nerves. He knocked then slowly turned the doorknob after a beat.

"Aye, mate. It's me," he announced. "Y'alright?"

He peeked his head in, seeing nothing out of place. That was a good sign, him knowing Tom would have broken a few things if he really were angry enough. The room was dimly lit by a single lamp.

The television was softly playing Love Island while Tom's focus was on his phone instead. It was odd, considering it was their favorite show to watch at the moment.

Tom didn't bother to look up from the light of his phone screen, so Harrison invited himself in and shut the door behind him. "Aw, watching without me again?" he joked.

Tom grunted in reply which only emphasized his clear pouting, which came along with his arms crossed over his chest.

Harrison sat himself on the foot of the bed, facing his friend. How would he do this? Should he stick to the script he imaginatively wrote? There were a number of things that Haz felt needed to be brought up, but should he mention all of them?

He sighed. This was hard.

“I’m sorry for bringing her up,” Tom started, to his friend’s surprise.

Haz knew who he meant. . . Maybe he wouldn’t have to stick to that stupid script.

“S’all right, mate,” he replied. He rubbed his face with his hands, still unsure where to steer the conversation. “I get it. Was kind of a dick move for me to say what you told me back then, I guess. You’ve just got to know that Y/N didn’t mean for all of that to happen. If anything, blame Beth for not being straight with you.”

Tom put his phone down and paused the television, giving Harrison his full attention. They looked at each other from one side of the bed to the other.

“I’m fine now,” the brunette stated. “Just still pissed about Y/N and all. She can move in—that’s fine—but not get involved with my love life, mate. Y’know what I mean? She’s done enough already.”

Harrison chuckled and briefly looked down at his hands. “Yeah, a bit. . . What’s your deal with her, anyways? It’s not looked like to me that she’s done anything too bad.”

Tom visibly gulped. He glanced between his own fiddling fingers and his best friend’s eyes nervously.

“Y’sure y’alright, Tom?” Harrison asked. He got up and moved closer to him. “You don’t look so good.”

Tom nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I just, erm. . . Y/N’s always. . . rubbed off on me the wrong way, I guess. She don’t seem so right. . . Not all the time, at least.”

Harrison chuckled again and slapped Tom on the back. “You just make her nervous, mate. That’s all. If you warm up to her then she’ll do the same, I’m sure.”

Tom nodded vigorously. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.”

The blond got up and walked towards the door, ready to leave. “Can you just do one thing?”

“Mmm?”

“Talk to Y/N, Tom. Whatever you’ve got against her, talk it out or something. You’re living with her now, can’t make things awkward.” He placed his hand on the doorknob, ready to turn it.

“Wait, Haz?”

He turned back around to face Tom.

“Uh,” Tom began. “I’m sorry again for bringing up Isabella. Wasn’t cool.”

Harrison smiled at him. “Don’t worry about it, mate. Like I said, s’all good. She’s got nothing to do with any of us anymore.”

Tom darted his eyes away from Harrison’s. “Yeah.”