October.

I feel like it was a terrible thing to not want to see both my mother and father. I'm pretty sure it is. Shit.

Michael really wasn't helping with the whole situation, either. In fact, he's still trying to get me to continue with the role-play, and was still acting like my mom was British and my dad was someone twenty-year old boys would swoon over - based on how he was holding on to his 'chest', that is. I was about to tell him how he and my imaginary dad would be the number one couple on my list, but after two seconds of fully understanding what I was about to say, I threw up at the back of my throat.

"Are you ready?" Michael asked, messing up his hair with his hand in effort to fix it.

"No," I mumble, jutting my bottom lip out and looking at him from under my lashes. My palms were practically red from due to my nails scratching at the surface for too long. I came here to have a good time, and honestly I'm feeling so attacked right now.

"You know what I don't get?" I asked Michael, puffing out my cheeks and checking myself in the mirror to stall our time, and to make sure that I didn't look like a zombie when I went to visit my parents after disappearing for three years. What a time to be alive, right?

"I don't get how you could be more excited than me, the girl who is the actual product of the two people we are about to see,whereas you haven't even met them yet. Like, at all."

Michael shrugged behind me, fixing his hair once more and I turn myself around and reach for it, purposely messing it up. "I don't know," he stated, after slapping my hand away. "You're finally out of hibernation, you know? And I'm really proud of you."

I smiled, the pit of worry in my stomach somehow ceasing as I turn around and give him a big hug. "Honestly, I have no idea where I'd be without you, Clifford."

"Probably not here."

"That was practically a dad joke. I'm quite impressed."

"Well, hi, quite impressed," Michael smiled smugly, "I'm dad."

"Well, hey dad, I'm quite impressed."

The proud grin on his face faded and he stared at me in disbelief. "You didn't."

"Oh, but I did," I smirked at him through the mirror, and watched as his jaw dropped. "I just out-dad joke'd the dad joker.

"Let's just go see your parents," Michael grumbled, grabbing the Canadian dollars off of the office table and walking towards the hotel door to put his shoes on, then disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door over dramatically.

I chuckled, grabbing my phone and walking towards the door to wait for him. I click the device's home button, realizing that I had six new message notifications - all from Luke. I smiled.

1:10 a.m.

hiiiiiiuui

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1:13 a.m.

whya rent you awwake

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1:13 a.m.

its olny ten

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1:14 a.m.

i kovr uou

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1:15 a.m.

youre pretty

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1:18 a.m.

wher am i

I chuckled loudly, before clicking on the screen and replying.

'Looks like someone was shitfaced last night. Or should I say, Luke's like someone was shitfaced last night. Sorry, Mike started my day off with jokes. Hope you feel better without me :-( x'

I added about twenty little beer emojis before pressing send, then tucked my phone into the front pocket of my jeans, when the bathroom door opened. My eyes widened and I groaned, sliding my hands down my face then placing them on my hips. "Michael, you are on fucking Canadian ground. It is January, and you are wearing shorts. Did you not see the snow outside?"

He examined himself then shrugged nonchalantly. "The more you tell me not to wear them, I want to."

"You're ridiculous."

"No, I'm dad."

"Michael! Change, now!"

"Alright, alright! Jesus."

This was definitely not a nice way to spend a Thursday at nine in the morning.

Luke.

Six a.m., and a vibration. That's what my morning consisted of (which I found overall absolutely absurd and outrageous).

And, a bucket of water dropped on my head. And by dropped, I meant both the water and the bucket. Thank goodness it was plastic.

"What the fuck?" I bellowed with a raspy tone, blinking a few times to get the eye crust out of the corners of my eyes. And to check if I was still in the right dimension.

"Dude," Ashton chuckled, pulling me up by gripping onto my arms. "Thank God I didn't even get that drunk last night. You look like shit."

"Thanks," I mumble, not even understanding what he was telling me due to the fact that I just woke up two seconds ago. I still felt a little drowsy. "Merci. Gracias. I like looking like shit. Much appreciated."

"I feel like you're still drunk," Ash laughed, pushing my shoulder lightly a few times to see if I would fall over. I did, letting my heavy body topple to the ground without any regret nor morals. "Luke, get up. What time did you sleep last night?"

I didn't reply, but instead felt myself dozing off once more against the cold, wooden floor. Then I felt a sharp pain - a slap across my face. "Wha- Hey! What was that for?"

"To see if you were still alive," Ashton grumbled, but didn't bother to help me up. "Tobes texted. Something about being shit-faced. She was right," he snickered, dangling my phone on top of my body and dropping it on my torso. "When do you plan on telling her?"

I shrugged, crossing my arms over my eyes. "Maybe when she gets back. God, now that you mentioned it last night, I really want to tell her right now. But I'll probably faint the minute she gets back."

"When is she getting back?"

"I don't know," I pondered, now that I think about it, all she told me was 'soon'.

Just on cue, my phone rang, having it be the beautiful girl that we were both talking about. She always made me feel more energetic - literally - considering that I had quite a bit of a hangover, and here I was, jumping up from the floor and tripping on my feet twice to go hide on my private room.

"Good looking out - keeping your phone conversations private like that," Ashton hollered down the hallway behind me, "I wouldn't appreciate hearing you talk about sex, but it doesn't mean that I mind it!" I flicked him off, before shutting the door and locking it, this time.

"Hey, Octob-"

"We are in a cab on our way to my parents' house and I feel so stealthy in my arrival, I mean, don't you think it's a bit weird how I showed up just now? And- and Michael is complaining because he isn't wearing his favourite shorts and it's fucking five degrees, here. And-"

"Whoa, October," I chuckled, hearing her take a deep breath from the lack of oxygen. "Babe, you're rambling. Take a deep breath." I inhaled and exhaled through my mouth, and she followed after me.

Okay, okay. I'm about to see them. I am about to see my parents. I need to calm the fuck down." Her voice started to heighten in tone along with speed, and she started to ramble, yet again. "I still can't get over the fact that Michael-"

"You're so cute when you're nervous," I beamed to myself and she stopped, her voice caught in her throat as she listened. "Like, so fucking hot."

"If this is your way of trying to calm me down," she laughed, and I know for a fact that she's blushing and shaking her head. "Well, it's working."

I bit my lip, trying to contain the giddiness inside of me. "Well, you know that sweatshirt that I gave you a few months back?"

"Yeah?"

"I think you look hot in that, too. Like, you're legs just- damn."

"A voice in my head wants to go fly back there just to see you again. Stop making me want to." Her voice was quiet and raspy, different to how it was before. Fuck.

"God, please listen to that voice in your head," I tried to contain my boyish hormones, but I couldn't help it. "I want you here."

"I want to be there, too. But I want to fix this. I want to make things right, you know?"

And that's when I felt an unknown pain in my chest.

A part of me felt selfish; she was so independent. The way she could get up and tie loose ends in a perfect knot. Whereas I, feel co-dependent, and it felt like I needed her way more than she needed me.

She was the kite that flew carelessly in the sky and I was the little boy on the ground, holding on to her string, and it may seem like she didn't need me and she could've slipped from my grasp and flew someplace else, but she didn't. She was the only reason I was outside, enjoying everything that life could give, and not hiding away from the rest of the world.

"Yeah," I muttered, holding the phone closer to my face as if it were her lips on my cheek. "I haven't kissed you in a while."

"I know."

"I really want to. Like, really want to."

"I guess you'll have to wait then, huh? So- Michael, don't open the window- oh God," I heard shuffling on the other line and a few background voices consisting of scolds and cusses.

"Hey, I-uh, I gotta go. I think we're here. I'll think about you, yeah? Wish me luck." Her tone was rushed and she made a little 'mwuah' noise. "There. I just sent you a kiss like, two thousand miles away. Bye, Hemmings."

"Bye, Winters." I tried to imitate the noise she made, then failed, and she laughed before hanging up.

"Lucas," Ashton bellowed, suddenly barging into my room and I shrieked, the bang of the door against the wall startling me.

"Shit, man, don't do that," I gasped, bringing my hand to my heart.

"Lucas," he repeated, ignoring my remark. "I have an idea about dropping the L-bomb, and it doesn't involve God's breath."

I rolled my eyes, but continued to listen anyway. "What is it?"

"She likes art, yeah?"

"Yeah, she can like, draw and shit."

Ashton smiled, grabbing his car keys from his pocket and taking my jacket that hung on my chair, throwing it to me. "Perfect."

October.

"Just knock." Michael encouraged, folding his hands over another behind his back.

"Okay." I held my hand up towards the door of the house that I haven't seen in so long; same door frame, same flowers near the big window that were now covered in snow, and the same, black car that I had used for my 'escape'. I was surprised that my dad didn't buy a new one, yet. If I were honest, I really did miss this place.

"Knock."

"I know."

"Okay, then. Why aren't you knocking?"

"Because you're pressuring me!" I groaned, taking my hand down and shaking it a few times to see whether it had lost feeling because of the cold weather, or the anxiety replacing the blood in my veins.

"Oh for Pete's sake-" Michael stepped forward and knocked loudly on the door, then hid behind me and awaited for the door to open.

It seemed like we had to wait hours before the locks clicked and the hinges creaked, revealing a middle-aged looking woman, with thick framed glasses and an apron around her waist, along with he sweet smell of cinnamon behind her.

I tried to hold back my gasp, but it slipped out. "Mom?"

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