The holiday was almost over. For once, it had actually felt like a holiday, a life far removed from the one Ishaana had got used to. Priya was back at school again after her two weeks off and Saffiya had returned to college: the past couple of days had been strange when Ishaana had been the only one around the house during the day and most mornings, once everyone else had left her, she had ended up getting the bus to Melody's house. Pearl was gone most days, either in Edinburgh or Manchester as she tried to piece together her life without relying too much on the generosity of Melody and her mother, which meant that Ishaana had had to deal with non-stop questioning about what Melody had deemed 'the night' – the night she had spent with Bishop and Casey before they had left.

It was all she could talk about, as though she thought about it more than Ishaana did, and that was probably true. By Ishaana's reckoning, anyway. When she was alone, it was difficult not to let her mind slip back to that night, but that was only natural. It had been a fantasy, some kind of a mirage of an evening that she had never expected to actually happen and even now, closing in on a month later, it cropped up in her mind when her thoughts slipped into neutral. There were times that she still struggled to believe what she had done, that she had done it at all.

Lying on her bed with an array of lecture notes spread out in front of her, it was hard to concentrate on the tiresome bore that summed up her politics degree. A measly two exams lay before her, which she appreciated now even if the huge load of essays and assignments had felt like tortuous murder all year long. Modern political theory, her least favourite of the six modules she had taken for her second year, and US politics, her favourite: both scheduled to have an exam on the same day, which she dreaded. It was still three weeks away, plenty of time to cram when ordinarily she didn't even open her books until a week before or later, but Melody was away and boredom was growing.

Farnleigh was a pretty town but there wasn't a lot to do and Ishaana was relearning that after getting used to the constant buzz of Manchester life. The shops shut early; the bars and pubs were few and far between, and the nightlife was pretty dire. Not that she much enjoyed going to clubs, and not when the evenings were family time, but it didn't bode well for the town that its best option for an evening with friends wasn't much better than a couple of drinks at the local Wetherspoons.

Ishaana rolled onto her back, her stomach churning, and she stared at the ceiling. She'd felt a little under the weather all day, waking up on the wrong side of bed, and it didn't help that she was alone for the day with little more than her revision to keep her from going insane. Food hadn't appealed to her yet, though it was past lunchtime: she had slept in late, her family gone by the time she had opened her eyes, and she had been hit with a slightly sickening loneliness ever since. Vague nausea lingered in the pit of her stomach, though she couldn't tell if that was the thought of having to spend a few more days alone or her impending exams, the realisation that her entire year led up to a solitary day of tests.

A bit of both, perhaps, and it didn't help that only now was she feeling settled amongst her family. After nearly four weeks of work, spending time with her sister and her cousin during the day and bonding with her aunt in the evenings, there was no longer that niggle of fear that she had once felt at the mere idea of spending any considerable amount of time at home. She couldn't shake the feeling, however, that it was too little too late. They had moulded around the gap she had left, misshaping the space she had saved for herself. For a month, she had tried to fit back into that hole and now that she did, it was almost time to go.

Never had she thought that would bother her, but it did. She wasn't an outcast in her own family: she had only made herself feel that way, planting those assumptions in her gut and letting them blossom and bloom like an unwanted vine that had snaked its way into her brain to change the way she thought.

Love had trumped fear. That much was true; that much she knew without having to second-guess herself anymore. Now it seemed ridiculous that she had ever doubted that her aunt loved her, that she had ever feared spending time with the only family she had left, perhaps the only family she would ever have at all. Being around them had sparked something in her too, as though she had discovered a new side of herself that she had never bothered to look for before: as much as she had been a daughter and a sister, she was a cousin and a niece, and now those words meant just as much as each other.

Kneading her stomach with the heel of her hand, Ishaana rolled back onto her front and let out a sigh that sent a couple of her papers fluttering off her bed. They silently floated to the ground, settling on the carpet without a sound, and she made no move to get them. The topic was dry and uninteresting, not one she had any intention of answering an exam question on, and she stared at the sheet of paper as it lay there out of reach. Only one year left. It seemed impossible that her degree was two thirds done, almost, and that thought only added to the unease in her stomach.

After hours of silence, the house was filled with a burst of sound when Priya jogged up the stairs with heavy feet, singing her herself before she threw open her sister's door with a grin on her face. The sound of Sunita's humming floated up from downstairs, amusing herself as she set about working on supper for later. Saffiya almost always made her own way home, having worked up enough of her mother's trust not to require a lift home from college each day.

It was quarter past four on the dot when Ishaana looked up at her sister. It took a moment for her bleary eyes to adjust, having fallen asleep upside down on her bed around an hour ago, and a frown of confusion dominated her features for a second or two. She never napped in the day, not unless she was ill, and that only confirmed her fear that she was going down with something. Ishaana could deal with almost anything, but illness wasn't something she coped with well so she prayed that she had eaten something bad yesterday, that her system would be purged within a day.

"Hey, sleepy butt," Priya said. "Since when did you nap in the middle of the day? You ok?"

"Yup," Ishaana said. "Just feeling a bit gross." That felt like the best way to describe it: she was feeling a little gross, and the best cure seemed to be to indulge in that, slobbing out on her bed with her laptop playing episode after episode on Netflix with her occasional input to confirm that she was still watching.

"You're not sick, are you?" Priya asked, automatically reversing towards the door with a look fo horror on her face, and Ishaana shook her head.

"Nope. I'm fine. Just a bit under the weather," she said, trying to make herself look as convincingly well as possible for her sister, who crept closer to the bed once more.

"That's your body telling you to stay," she said. "I can't believe it's been a month, nearly. I don't want you to go. You're supposed to rest when you'll ill. Maybe you'll have to rest for, oh, I don't know ... another few weeks? Your body is telling you not to leave. " She wore a wicked grin and Ishaana chuckled weakly.

"Sorry, Pri," Ishaana said. "If anything, I think my body's telling me not to be a vegan. I'm not cut out for this life. I need meat." She pursed her lips, eyebrows raised. The change in diet was still something of a shock to her system, which had yet to get used to the lack of every food she had shovelled into her body for the past couple of years. It had been a long time since she had relied so heavily on someone else's cooking, not since her father had died.

Priya shrugged off her bag and her blazer in a pool on the floor before she joined her sister on the bed, crossing her legs and holding onto her feet. "Actually, I could sleep right now. Why is school so draining? And then they want me to do homework too?" An expression of utmost disgust crossed her face and Ishaana chuckled. She gathered up the fruitless revision notes that she had fallen asleep amongst, shoving them into a file that went under her bed.

"Screw homework," she said, pulling a face, and Priya nodded.

"Screw homework. Except I can't, because then I fail and if I fail, then Suni gets that disappointed look in her eyes that she tries to hide, but she's not very good at hiding it. And that really sucks. Plus, my teachers actually like me," Priya said, happily rambling away as she lay down beside her sister, her arms behind her head. "It's quite useful, so I reckon I'll keep doing the work and they'll keep liking me, and it'll pay off in the future."

"It will," Ishaana confirmed with a nod. "I did that, to be honest. Worked like a charm. Build up a relationship and then exploit it for all its worth." She grinned at her memories of secondary school, when she had managed to balance the reputation as something of a teachers' pet while simultaneously being a cheeky child who could get away with murder. Somehow, she had gained her teachers' trust and respect and that had proved to be an invaluable asset.

"Sounds like a plan," Priya said, and she let out a sigh as though the day had defeated her.

"You ok?" Ishaana asked, looking over at her little sister. It was easy to forget how young she was sometimes, only two years into the seven that made up high school, when she was so mature. Tragedy could do that to a person, she thoughts. While she had internalised every emotion she had felt, festering on rage and grief and despair, her sister had turned those feelings into energy that she seemed to exert all the time.

"Mmhmm. Just tired. Is uni this exhausting?"

"Nope," Ishaana said, "though sometimes I get tired of lying in front of the TV for, like, four hours in a row every evening." She laughed and added, "I've developed a horrible habit for trash TV. It's all Mel's fault. She's a terrible influence."

"Sounds good to me," Priya said. "I already watch trashy TV. Just not when Suni's in the room. She hates that kind of thing."

"Me too," Ishaana said, chuckling. She had always criticised the kind of television that had now become her nightly staple, idly melting her brain away as she watched reality shows and competitions that required very little attention and provided a perfect getaway from the intensity of her lectures and seminars.

Priya sighed. "I can't wait to go to uni," she mused, letting out a slow breath as she stared up at the ceiling, following her sister's gaze.

"Don't wish your life away.

"You sound like Mum."

Ishaana caught herself, hearing what she had said. Priya was right: their mother had uttered those words a million times, whenever either of them had wished to be older, pining after the future with no idea that it would be one without their parents. The expression had only proved to be more and more true as Ishaana had grown older. She regretted every time that, as a child, she had wished the time away. Now it was gone, and she ached to be young again.

"Sorry," she said, letting the word sink in for a moment. "Mum was smart, though. Smarter than I ever gave her credit for." The admission hurt, tearing her throat as the words left her lips, and she swallowed hard to soothe the ache in her gullet. Her eyes welled with unexpected tears, overwhelmed by a rush of emotion that came out of nowhere, and she blinked as she heaved a shaky sigh at the memory of her mother. The two years without her was nothing in comparison to the eighteen years that they had been together, and yet Ishaana already felt as though forever had passed since she had last hugged her mother or told her she loved her. Weeks before her death. Maybe more. Ishaana wasn't one to express her emotions out loud, but now she felt the need to.

"Pri?"

"Mmm?"

"I love you. I figured I'd be an only child forever and then you came along and I was kinda jealous at first, but you made me realise how awesome it can be to have a sister. Even if you drive me up the wall sometimes. I wouldn't trade you in for anyone else."

"Not even Mum?" Priya asked, the question stabbing Ishaana right where it hurt the most, and her nausea doubled as she tried to keep the sickness at bay.

"No," she said, forcing out the word that killed her. "You're you, Pri. No-one else can be you; no-one can replace you. And no-one can replace Mum and Dad. But that's ok. No-one else could be my little baby Priya."

"I love you too, Ishy. Even when you're, like, a million miles away. Maybe even more, then."

Ishaana smiled. "Distance makes the heart grow fonder. I think that's a saying."

"It is." Priya nodded. "But that doesn't mean I want you to move away when you graduate. I want you to come right back home. Saffi starts uni when you finish and if you both leave me then I don't know what I'll do." The corners of her mouth turned down, only partly due to her dramatic tendencies: there was real emotion behind her flair for theatrics.

"I'm not going to leave you."

"Don't say that." Priya shook her head fiercely, her eyebrows coming together above the bridge of her nose, where several dark hairs grew that she plucked every so often. "You can't promise that, Ishy, so please don't say it 'cause it'll only end up hurting even more when you leave."

Ishaana was caught. She didn't know where to go from there, checkmated by her own words. Priya was right: that wasn't a promise she could make. She had no idea what would happen after her degree, whether she would end up back in Farnleigh or whether life would take her further afield, but right now she felt her roots solidifying in the quiet town even more. This was her home. This was where her family was, and she couldn't afford to hurt Priya more than the girl had already been hurt.

A couple of hours later, once Priya had finished up with the day's homework, her mood had seen an improvement in that her battered emotions had been replaced by a refreshed rejuvenation, her spirits lifted. When Ishaana emerged from her room after taking a break to feel sorry for herself, wallowing in the feelings that talking to Priya had stirred up, she was greeted by her grinning sister downstairs, who was bopping along to a song playing on her phone.

The notes sounded vaguely familiar, though not so recognisable that it was a song in the charts. She pondered it as she fetched herself a glass of water, listening for any lyrics she knew, but none were too familiar. It was just the guitar that rang a bell, the gently melody in the background of the song. She leant against the counter with her glass in her hand, her eyes on her sister.

"Who's this?" she asked, nodding at the phone, and Priya's eyes lit up the way they always did when her sister took an interest in her life.

"My new favourite band," she said. "You probably haven't heard of them."

"Try me," Ishaana said, sipping her water.

"They're called Two Degrees," Priya said, and Ishaana almost choked on her water. Her eyes widened before she could tell her body not to react so blatantly in front of her sister, who cocked her head to one side. "Wait, have you heard of them?"

"It rings a bell," Ishaana said, once she had persuaded her brain to cooperate. She didn't know the music, but she knew the band.

"Well, they're my new favourites," she said. "And they're English, which is always a pro. Sela heard them on the radio and I think I'm in love."

Ishaana's cheeks burned, unable to escape the conversation with dignity. She either had to play along or admit what she would never admit to her little sister. Not for a few more years anyway, maybe once Priya had had her own adventures.

"They're in America at the moment and I'm hoping they're gonna do a tour when they get back," she said. "Maybe you could take me to my first concert." She grinned and Ishaana forced a laugh, trying not to make it sound too awkward when all she felt was the burning embarrassment of her two lives colliding.

"You're too young for a concert, Pri," she said instead, distracting her sister with a new argument. It worked, for a moment: Priya's eyes darkened, her features tying into a frown.

"No I'm not," she said. "I'm thirteen. Loads of my friends go to concerts. My age is, like, the ultimate fangirl age. I bet there were loads of people my age at that blooming South Season concert you went to."

Ishaana didn't dare admit that Two Degrees had played as the support band for that very concert, the opening act that she had missed. But she hadn't missed the encore. And she couldn't argue with the truth that Priya presented her.

"Plus, you know the best thing?"

Ishaana raised her eyebrows, feigning disdain at her sister's newfound obsession. "What?"

"They're really cute. I'm not one to fangirl – you know me well enough to know that – but man, Ishy, you need to check them out," Priya said, lunging for her phone. Ishaana's chest itched, her skin flushing hot and cold and that nausea was back again. Her worlds were colliding. She was a terrible liar, and she could feel the truth slipping between her fingertips as she tried to hold onto a modicum of dignity.

She knew the band was cute. She knew that Casey had an alluring, mysterious vibe that translated into instant lust for her; she knew that Bishop was cute in an understated kind of way, the type to totally take her by surprise. While Casey was upfront with what he had and what he wanted, Bishop knew how to play his hand. She didn't know what lay up his sleeve; Casey didn't even both to wear sleeves. She already knew far more than any band photos could show her: she knew every inch of both bodies; she knew how Casey's hands were misleadingly soft while Bishop's lips were just as tender as they seemed; she knew that both of them could send her into screaming ecstasy. At the same time, too.

Each painfully vivid memory of that night crowded her brain, blurring her vision, and she focused on the glass in her hand as she sipped her water to cool her burning throat, dropping her eyes to the phone in her sister's hand. Priya swiped through photos of Casey and Bishop, lingering on the ones of the latter as she virtually drooled.

"Bishop Knight," she said, tapping the screen, and Ishaana could virtually see the cartoon love hearts in her little sister's eyes. "I'm guessing his parents are chess fans."

"Oh my God," Ishaana murmured. She had never made that connection before, only realising it now that Priya had said it out loud, and she laughed at herself for being so blind.

"What?"

"Oh, just that his name's Bishop Knight," she said, thinking fast to cover her tracks. Priya didn't need to know. Priya never needed to know. It would all be over before she ever caught a whiff of what had gone on.

"And that he is the most beautiful man alive," Priya said. "Obviously. Look at him, Ishy. Look at him – he's, like, a God. He's so pretty. And he looks so soft."

Looks could be deceiving, Ishaana thought. She bit her tongue. Bishop had been anything but soft with her, pounding her harder than anyone else ever had, pushing her further and deeper than she had been. Her cheeks burned hotter at the illicit memories that threw themselves to the forefront of her mind.

Now too long had passed, too many seconds that she had said nothing, and Priya looked up at her.

"Come on, Ishy! You can't tell me he's not beautiful! I know what you like, don't try to lie. He's, like, so your type."

"What about the other one?" Ishaana asked, reaching out to swipe to a photo of Casey, but Priya wrinkled her nose.

"He's good looking, yeah, but he looks kind of ... childish?"

"Well, you are thirteen," Ishaana said with a short laugh, and Priya rolled her eyes.

"I think the point of a fantasy is that it doesn't have to be realistic," she said. She swiped back to a photo of Bishop and zoomed in on his face, squinting at the screen. "He's so cute. It's so unfair. Why are all the cute guys famous? We have no chance!"

Ishaana laughed, her insides squirming. If only Priya knew, she thought, though she prayed that that would never happen. Her sister could stay in her fantasy land, and she would plant her feet firmly in the real world. It was time to get out, she thought. They would be back in a few days, and there was no way to sustain what she had going. Perhaps Melody was right. It was messy. And the best way to get out of a mess was to just cut the strings. There were never supposed to have been any in the first place.

+ - + - +

wasn't sure i'd make it tonight as i am really tired but here it is! i hope you liked this chapter - a little shorter than usually, admittedly, but i saw no point dragging this one out when it's a filler anyway. 5 days and 7 chapters left ... still blindly determined to finish!