L U E L L A

"A martini, please," A deep voice startles me from behind the booth. I was working a double shift at the bar tonight, because I needed the money and also the distraction.

"Mr. Clover," I couldn't hide the surprise in my voice. It was considerably odd for him to show without a notice in public, if at all. He highly valued his privacy, and I respected that, so I was startled and slightly surprised to see him sitting on a customer stool, casually ordering a martini. Though that wasn't necessarily the only reason his presence-let alone unwarned-put me on edge.

"Hey, cookie." The man's gravely voice greeted back coolly and knowingly-like he expected to see me; my blue hair easily recognized, I guess. James Clover, the owner of Wanderlust pub and the infamous father of Alex, has found a habit of calling me cookie for some strange unbeknownst-to-me reason. Although, since I saw him only a few numbered times during the time I've been living with Alex, it wasn't too hard to tolerate it.

"The usual?" I asked him as he winked.

"With an olive on a toothpick, eh?" He chuckled, his british accent thick.

"Coming right up!" I went to fetch his drink as he attempted to carry on the conversation. I live with his son, but the man can be unbearable sometimes, although he still manages to be quite discreet and mysterious.

"How're you doing, cookie?" He asked, as if interested in my life well-being at all.

"I'm great. You, Mr. Clover?"

"Just peachy," He laughed gruffly again. "You have any idea where Alexander might be?"

"Erm," I glanced around, after noticing again that he still likes to call Alex by his full name. He doesn't seem to like nicknames, except for my own 'cookie.' "I'm not sure, think he's with the guys somewhere."

"Hmph," James looked displeased as he grumbled but smiled up at me nonetheless, watching me stab the green olive with a toothpick and pop it in his martini flute glass, passing it over to him on the counter.

"Here you go, sir," I said, then attempted to joke by saying, "On the house."

"Lovely," he laughed. "Do tell my son I stopped by, will you?"

"Of course," I nodded as I watched him tip back his drink, downing the glass of apple martini in one single gulp before he picked up the olive stick, tossed me a toothy grin in farewell and walked away.

A huff involuntarily escaped me once he was out of sight. Alex was slowly distancing himself from his dad because of how tight of a hold he wants to keep on Alex. Curiosity always mindlessly getting the best of me, I'd receive a shrug whenever I questioned their relationship and why it's been on the downward sloping route for a while. I never felt very at ease around James Clover, he seemed to have a dangerous aura around him but I couldn't detect any more than that.

"What you cookin', good-lookin'?" A drunk eases his way onto a stool and breaks me out of my thoughts.

"Fuck off," I rolled my eyes and patted Aiden on the back on my way to the backdoor, our unspoken signal for, 'I'm out, take care of this.'

Out back, I meet Cindy, Korra, Chandler and Alex huddled against the brick wall. Alex and Cindy had cigarettes between their fingers. Cindy sees me first and waves me over.

"I think I'm falling apart," I sighed dramatically as I leaned next to Cindy, taking the cigarette from her lips. I put it between mine and attempted a long drag, blowing out the smoke and ending up coughing harshly.

Cindy snatched it away from me, chuckling as she says, "You sure are."

Korra snorts as the boys chuckle lightly, and she does the same thing I had with Cindy's cig but with Alex's. Cindy rolls her eyes ever so bluntly as Korra takes a long drag, blowing out the smoke from her mouth and nose.

"So," Cindy brought everyone's attention back to her. "You guys up for a night out? I need to, like, forget my name."

"Hell yeah, I'm in." Chandler nods, Alex shrugging as he gives up on the cigarette that was still in Korra's fingers and comes to stand next to me, wrapping his arm loosely around my shoulders. I sigh as his body warmth engulfs the surrounding chilly breeze and I smile up at him.

"You wanna?" He asks me and I shrug, too.

"Sure," I say.

"Okay, but we're changing scenery," Cindy announces. "I can't work at Wanderlust and go out to Wanderlust. I feel like a prisoner, it's making me lose my mind."

"But we get free booze here," Chandler almost pouts.

"I can't stand another night out here," Cindy pleads. "How about we keep it low-key? Spoil ourselves a bit. Go for food or the fare or something-," she pauses to glare at the two boys as they snort at her suggestion but then she adds, "Then we swing by a different nightclub somewhere else and get shitfaced. How does that sound?"

"I'm in," Korra shrugs, flicking her cigarette to the scratched asphalt and stepping on it with the heel of her burgundy combat boots. She had some short black cutoffs with the pockets peeking like envelopes, and a camouflage-themed top with the sleeves rolled up and the hem tucked in.

Her hair had a just-got-out-of-bed-but-I-look-sexy-either-way-and-I-know-it look to it, bangs freshly cut just the right length on her eyebrows, complementing her honey brown eyes and thick lashes. She looked like a badass, a cute badass, which I admired her for achieving that look.

"You're coming?" Cindy bluntly asked, a question already answered. I get her surprise, though; Korra has never really hung out with us all that often outside of work. Not on our late nights. She was more like a close colleague than a friend, really.

"Need a ride?" Chandler had asked, directing his words to Korra and covering over Cindy's behavior towards her. Her eyebrows knit together and she watches the exchange calmly. Almost eerily.

"No, thanks," Korra said monotonously. "Just let me know when you figure out where and when."

"Cool, alright." Chandler mumbled as his eyes traced Korra disappear behind the backdoor and into the pub.

"You're a dick, you know that, right?" Cindy furrowed her eyebrows, startling Chandler with her genuine-sounding question to snap his head towards her and point to his chest in confusion as if to ask, 'Me?' Cindy huffed incredulously and stomped off through the pub door. The three of us winced as it slammed shut behind her.

"What did I do now?" Chandler obliviously looks at me, expectant.

I sigh. "Chan, you promised her you'd give her a ride around the city once you get your motorbike fixed."

Realization pours over his face like ice cold water and he grimaces. "Oh."

"Yep," Alex shrugs. "You're fucked."

Chandler sighs, shoulders slumped. "I totally forgot about that," he admits, then he chuckles humorously and shakes his head. "But she could've just reminded me, she knows I lowkey have Alzheimer."

"Not when it comes to Korra, apparently." I couldn't help but say, so I cover up with, "Cin just expects you to be a better friend."

"Cin loves drama, no brainer." Chandler shrugs. "She's being overdramatic."

I narrow my eyes at him defensively. "You can't keep a promise, and she's wrong?"

"I forgot! It slipped my mind, I swear. It's just a bike ride. Geez," Chandler argues. "So, what, is she in love with me or something?"

Alex snorts, but I don't find it funny, not even a little bit. He notices and clears his throat before he tries to come up with something in defense to say, only to end up with, "C'mon, man. You know how Cindy's like. Not overdramatic, just...sensitive."

Shaking my head, I fixate my gaze on Lover Boy and say stoically, "No. She's in love with your motorbike, no brainer." I shrug. "Asshole."

Detaching Alex's arms from around my shoulders, both their faces fall. Alex looks like he's thinking of the reasons he might be in trouble. To ease him a little, I press my lips to his cheek in a light peck and say, "I'll see you later, 'kay?"

"Okay," he says in relief and when I turn around and start to head back inside to look for Cindy, I hear him say to Chandler, "Dude, you're screwed. No fucking brainer."

I find Cindy in the bathrooms, closing the door when I checked it was only her st that was occupied. Just as I call her name, she silently strolls out one of the stalls, wiping at her fiercely red cheeks violently.

"He's an asshole," she says.

I chuckle. "I told him that."

"You did?"

"You're welcome."

"He doesn't even deserve this messed up makeup. To hell with liquid eyeliner, honestly!"

I laugh at this, while Cindy takes her frustration out on her mascara-stained cheeks. "Yeah," I finally agree. "He probably doesn't."

"He promised me a ride on that bike ages ago, Faith!"

"Told him that, too,"

"And I've been waiting for him to remember-but, oh, look at that. Princess Korra is in the house. Stealing my man."

"Cindy," I sigh. "He's not your man."

She pauses, sliding the makeup remover wipe harder against her face. "I know."

"I'm not sure he's even a man at all," I say and she lightly giggles at that. "Besides, she's not stealing him. He's all over her."

"I know," She sniffs. "I should find someone else to crush on."

"Please," I walk over to her and turn her around, getting a wipe myself and attempting to help her remove the makeup stains on her face.

"I like him, though," She bites down on her lip, shamefully holding back more unshed tears. "She's pretty, they probably look good together, don't they?"

"Cindy," I emphasize. "You're gorgeous. Well, maybe not with liquid eyeliner stains on your face, but you'll do."

A laugh bubbles out of her at that and I smile triumphantly. I wasn't lying about it, Cindy was drop dead gorgeous. With her smooth brown hair and round, light blue eyes, her petite body serving as a canvas of colorful tattoos, Cindy definitely makes a pretty badass model.

"You think?" She points to the reduced mess on her face. "I think it makes a good goth look. They're in style, too."

"Please, don't let me stop you from jumping on that train."

"Or rather, jumping in front of it."

I laugh, shaking my head in relief at her change of mood. "Well, at least you're not crying anymore."

"I wasn't crying," Cindy says. "This never happened."

"Right." I struggled to bite back a smile. For someone who put up a solid front, tough and confident and tattooed all over, Cindy was a little puppy with huge watery eyes on the inside. All soft and mushy and childlike, the purest heart is hers. Half the time, I feel like I'm counseling a five-year-old, but I don't mind at all. I welcome it.

Her problems-slight or gigantic-help me forget about my own, just like being with Alex does. For a little while, yes, but it's worth it. Until we were out of the bathroom and I had to be alone with my thoughts again. For some God awful reason, my mind kept drifting back to Harry and our supposed-to-be-long-forgotten-by-now memories so inevitably, no matter how hard I wish it away.

The maddening part about it is that I kept linking everything around me to him. Someone ordered beer? The smell of it brought me back to Harry's frat parties. Someone has a beanie on? Harry's head looks better with his curls (that were now gone) peeking from under it. Men at the bar with hands clad with silver rings? Don't compare to Harry's.

I had to keep reminding myself of the fact: he is gone. The us we were before is gone. It wasn't real. He didn't love me right. He didn't touch me right. It was all to look out for me. It was all to manipulate my feelings into thinking I was a success. Every time someone cheered me on, it was because they set it up. Nothing was real. I was living on a stage and the lights have blinded me into not seeing the truth.

Conveniently, Alex noticed my zoning-out and insisted I clock out early and get some rest. I didn't have it in me to pretend I was fine, so I took it. As soon as I go through the front door, I head straight for the shower, in serious need of one. The scalding hot water unties the knots under my skin, eases my muscles and melts away a bit of my building up anxiety.

I stay in the shower until my skin turns pink and blotchy and my tips start to wrinkle. I slip on a t-shirt of Alex's that looks like a dress shirt on me and collapse on the bed. I feel exhausted, like my limbs are too heavy and my body can't carry itself around anymore. But when I try to go to sleep, I see Harry behind my eyelids. There he is, dimples indented into his cheeks, eyes emerald crystals and lips a soft pink pulled into a taunting smile. There's Harry, laughing with his head tilted back. There's Harry, hugging me and kissing me and telling me he loves me.

I feel like I can't breath. I open my eyes again and turn on the bed to lie on my back so I'm staring at the ceiling. Could he still be following me? Is he still hired by Cecilia to spy on me? I feel my skin itching me to hide under the duvet, so I do, feeling ironically less suffocated.

Cindy was talking about her divorced parents and self-shaming herself and said, "If the essence is fucked up, the product is fucked up," because it was an abusive, arranged marriage.

It's kind of a stretch to compare that to my relationship with Harry, but the essence was, essentially, fucked up. Controlling my life behind my back? Sugarcoating life for me? That's fucked up, just like the product-our relationship-is.

Although a part of me knows the heart of the problem lies on Cecilia. She's the one who decided to hijack my life and started all this messed up nonsense. But she didn't force Harry into doing anything, she didn't hold a knife to his throat. Pretending to want me, to want to be with me...but most cruelly, to love me?

Part of not being able to let it go, besides his sudden unwelcome presence, is that I can't vent about it to anybody. I can't get it out of my system just by being with Alex and Cindy and Chandler and Korra. These were the kind of people I used to look at and say, wrong, wrong, wrong. There was a time when I was intimidated by their aura, but now I've become one of them.

But who would I tell? I've put up a fairly good act so far, I don't want anyone to take me as weak or gullible or exceptionally foolish. I don't want to be taken for granted or seen as vulnerable for my past. Besides, I used to be pretty good bottling up my feelings-even though they weren't this-back at the orphanage.

So it shouldn't be a problem now.

H A R R Y

I haven't seen her in weeks. Two and a half to be exact. It's not that I couldn't or that I didn't want to, but she made it pretty clear the last time we talked that she has no interest whatsoever to see my face again. Nobody sane could blame her, to be honest.

Sometimes I'd imagine her walking on the busy streets of London, or sitting next to me on the passenger's seat. Sometimes I'd smile, but other times I'd frown and feel like screaming. Bloody screaming.

"Stop, Harry," Ben blurted, interrupting my venting -yet again- about her. "Just fucking stop."

"What?"

"Leave it," He shook his head. "Leave her. She's obviously a different person now."

"She's- Yeah, but...I'm not."

"Harry," Another shake of his head as he rubbed his eyes. "You've been looking everywhere for her for the past, what, two years? And now there she is, but she's, like.... It turns out that she doesn't want to be found. You should've gathered that already. The contrast between the girl you were searching for and the one you found, I'd say, is pretty vast."

"The girl I've been searching for is not gone, Ben. She's in there somewhere, I just need to-"

"Dammit, Harry!" Ben was exasperated, his eyes scolding me. "You're not going to follow her around, are you? Is she gonna turn you into a fucking spy again? Come on, Harry."

Sigh.

"Quit it, man. Quit her, she's gone. You hurt her, okay? Fine. That's a thing you learned from and it passed. Let her be...an ex. Not a lost-and-found item."

"I can't not think about her." My heart clenched harshly. Damn Ben and his clever words. It makes me feel like such a selfish douchebag. Which I am, wanting her to want me back like I do.

"She's with somebody else, mate. You wanna be that guy that goes after taken girls?"

"No. No, I don't, and I know I'm being selfish. I know, but- But I love her."

"Not everyone you love is meant for you," Ben says, his words stinging me as their truth, like salt, pressed into my open wounds. "First love is a bitch, Harry. I know you were way too invested in her, but she's gone. People are constantly growing, you know? She did, in her own way. You should, too. You're gonna fall in love again, mate. You're gonna find the one and treat her better, yeah? And finally be the closet poet that you are!"

Ben grins in a miserable attempt to cheer me up and I crack a smile for his sake. He pats me on the back and I almost laugh. Back then, I used to be the one telling Ben to grow up, that he's so deluded to think he's in love with somebody. I used to talk him out of breakup traumas and be the one to take him out and drunk to forget about his broken heart. Never had I ever thought the tables would turn.

"It gets better, your heart gets stronger. Ask me. It's not the end of the fucking world, mate," he shakes his head in confirmation. "Look at me, for reference. I've found Kate after too many attempts. But I've found her, you know? She's the girl I know I want to spend the rest of my life with. I've never felt this way about anyone else before."

"I'm happy for you, Ben. I really am," I gaze over his lovestruck face as he talks of his one true love and I wonder if I look like that when I talk about her. I wonder if I'll have a smile on my lips, when I find the one, instead of tears in my eyes.

"Listen. How about I treat us out this weekend? No interruptions this time. What do you say?"

My best friend-my only friend-is yet another person in my life that I keep disappointing. So I say, "Yeah," then I nod and smile some more so it doesn't look like I'm still thinking about her, and add, "Sure. Why not?"

"Great!" Ben beams and stands up. "I gotta run. Kate will have my head if I miss movie night again this week."

I crack another amused smile. "Still on Harry Potter?"

"Nope, we finished that. Now it's my turn, so it's Star Wars." Ben looked happy about it and I laughed.

"Well, tell her I said hello."

"Speaking of hellos, I spoke to your neighbor. Lydia?"

My eyes widened and I blinked cautiously. "Ben, what were you speaking to Olivia about?"

Ben looked at me mischievously. "I grabbed her number. Oh and, Harry? Don't leave your phone with me when you go to the bathroom. Especially when the password is so easy to crack."

My password was her name. Her old name. My hands raised to rub at my face in exasperation.

"Goddammit, Ben. What did you do?" I shook my head as I went to retrieve my phone from the couch, muttering profanities under my breath.

"You're welcome!" I heard him say before the door shut closed behind him. I fidgeted with the phone, finding her name suddenly incredibly difficult to spell out on the keyboard.

When I do, I quickly open my messages app and find it. A text thread with an unsaved number. There was only one text, which was sent from my phone.

Harry:
Hey. It's Harry, your new sexy neighbor.

note:
it's been a month since i last updated! sorry for the delay, i'm having trouble keeping up with uni.
please vote if you liked it!
love, ness. x