When I returned from Italy, it felt like England was a cage, and if I couldn't get out quick enough I was going to be stuck here forever. I had a week to get everything in order, the memorial was on a Friday, sunset, because Rose loved to watch the sun set. The memorial wasn't going to be like the other funerals or memorial's you'd go to, because Rose wanted her life to be celebrated, not mourned. So, instead of wearing black and crying a lot, we were going to light candles and talk about the good times we all had with Rose. It was probably the hardest week of my entire life, and I'm fortunate not to remember much of it. I do remember that Friday though, she'd been dead for two weeks now, and honestly it felt longer, it felt so long ago. I was going crazy because I was starting to forget, and I called Insley up in the middle of the night in a total panic because I couldn't remember the colour of her eyes, and it scared me how easily we were forgotten. Time was catching up with Rose, slowly but surely erasing every image I had of her, and it was absolutely terrifying. The memorial was only close family, and maybe some friends, but honestly we didn't have many, so it was basically, Finn, Louis, Insley, my Mother, the kids and I. We held it in my back garden, where her sanctuary was. She spent a lot of time in the garden making it beautiful and a load of time painting the flowers and the birds she saw. I had an idea to keep her alive for a bit longer, I was going to throw her ashes into a pot and along with it, some seeds for a rose bush, and that would mean she would always be there, in the back garden.

Anyway, no matter how many times you tell yourself you're not going to bawl your eyes out at a memorial, you end up crying in any case. We were supposed to be celebrating her life, so I decided to try and do that, "Listen," I said, "I don't think we should be crying, I mean, yes, she is gone, but she would've wanted us to celebrate, think of the good times."

Finn nodded, "He's right, we should be thinking of all the great times we had together." Louis nodded as well, and a small smile made its way onto my face.

"I have an idea," I replied, "let's all name a good time we had with her?"

Louis nodded again, "Okay, I'll go first I guess?" All of us waited in suspense for his answer, "Rose was my best friend, she was the only girl I could stand, and she understood me in a way. We would always spend time together, going out to shop for clothes, I mean, I helped her pick out her wedding gown-" chuckling, but the tears were flowing down his cheeks, "God, I remember her wedding day, she was a bloody wreck. Oh, my God, Harry, if Insley didn't show up and tell us about how you were freaking out I think she was going to leap out the window and run for the hills." I laughed a little, but in all honesty I was a wreck inside. Memories of the wedding day were too much after this.

Finn smiled fondly, giving Louis a kiss to the side of his head, and hugging him closer, "you know what I remember, I remember the first time she brought you home."

"Me?" I asked I was a little bewildered that he actually recalled that.

"Yeah, you. And I looked at you like you were the absolute worst thing ever, and she looked at you like she was in love, and hell it infuriated me when she talked about you all the time, Harry. Man, I swear, I hated you for such a long period of time, until I noticed how happy she was around you and how great you made her feel, and how her eyes lit up when she talked about you. Thanks for that, Rose never smiled much as a kid, and when she met you I think you just helped piece her back together. Sorry for being such a buzz kill." He smiled apologetically.

"Feels like a lifetime ago scatterbrain here was running 'round the house, trying to locate his best dress shirt." Insley said, and there it was, the flustering.

"You have to bring that bloody incident up every blinking time?" I looked at him, and he laughed.

"C'mon, H, you know how I love exploiting your more grotesque days." He replied, and I shook my head.

"Screw you." I said, "I don't really know what to say about Rose, she was- well, the light at the end of the tunnel for me. I think we're all so focused on finding our significant other that sometimes we forget that that's not all we're made for. We're so caught up in trying to fall in love, and trying to make that perfect kind of thing happen that sometimes we see past the whole idea of life. Living. We forget we're alive, I forgot I was alive before I met your sister, Finn. I was so bloody caught up in trying to find my perfect partner that I forgot to enjoy the fact that I was alive. I have the privilege of breathing properly, of speaking properly, and I can even go as far as saying that I can form coherent thoughts, and consider myself a socially acceptable psychopath, but nonetheless, what I'm getting at is we're all insane, trying to fall in love like it's a game. The first to get married is the first to win, love is just a socially acceptable form of insanity, and hell," I laughed breathily, "I was completely moonstruck. Your sister, Finn, was a great human being, and she, she deserved more time than she got. She did, she really did, I always imagined myself growing old with her, spending the rest of my life with her, and suppose in a way my mind will find a way to keep her alive, but not all of you are blessed to sometimes be on the brink of insanity and see your dead spouse," they laughed softly, "so, I've got a proposal. I've thrown her ashes into these potted plants, and there's one for Finnely and my mother, and of course one for Insley and I, which I'll probably keep, because Ins, let's face it, how the hell are you going to explain it to that girlfriend of yours. "Oh, yes darling don't mind that, that's just my brother's dead wife's ashes, and what not."" Insley laughed, elbowing my arm, I passed one of the plants to Finn and he kept it between his legs, "I'm really terrible at formulating my emotions into words on the spot, so I guess what I'm saying is, Finn, your sister was great." Finn was now crying, I think all of us were. But it was a happy kind of crying, we were remembering the great times with Rose, and that's all that counted. Later we went inside, and this is where I should stop talking because I was crying so much at this point. Finn requested I play her song, her song was called Small City Story and over the years I'd perfected it on that piano. It took everything in my power not to completely screw it up, yeah, I was weeping like a baby whilst playing it, and yeah, it was the hardest thing I'd ever had to play, even harder when I performed in front of ten thousand people that one time when I was nine, because it brought back all these great memories of her, and that's what hurt the most. Remembering hurt the most, the good times hurt like a thousand knives being hauled at me, I hated it. But everyone said it was beautiful and left afterward, there was never a night where I'd ever felt that lonely and deserted.

My father always used to say that you had to hit an incredible low for a change to happen, and that night I hit my absolute low. I was in a sense a good man, I didn't do drugs, nor did I indulge in alcohol, but that night after the kids went to bed I momentarily lost my mind, and went to a nearby pub. An English pub is a grotesque sight, littered with old alcoholics, faces sagging with depression and Bourbon, and I was stepping in totally blind folded. I don't know what in blazes possessed me that night, because next thing I knew, there were these two old men next to me, I think I remember their names being Charlie and Joel, but hell, I don't remember much from that night. (Mostly since I got roaring drunk and woke up feeling like I was dying, yes ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I got absolutely hammered.)

Anyway, Joel and Charlie were both divorced and in their late forties, and I prayed to whatever upper power to conserve me so that I may never end up like them.

"So, what's a young lad like you doin' in a dump like this?" Joel asked - he had dark, sunk-in, brown eyes, and a voice that reeked alcohol.

"Well, Joel, sir. I am excessively sad." I replied.

"What's a beautiful, ladies man like yourself got to dread, aye?" Charlie asked, laughing, "hell, boy, if I still had your looks I'd be shagging the birds all over the town!" He hollered and I vaguely remembered shuddering.

"That's where you're wrong, see I'm not the type to just shag and dash." I replied, and Joel sighed.

"Lord, get this lad a pint of beer." He said to the bartender, and I panicked, I was such a lightweight when it came to alcohol, one sip of beer and I was going to be tipsy as hell.

"Rather not the pint, I'm err, not much of a drinker?" My voice was high and confused.

"Don' listen to him." Charlie said.

I took a sip and the taste was revolting, but at least it was causing a little buzz in my head, which was cancelling out the symphonic orchestra that resided in there.

"So, laddie, what's yer name?" Joel asked.

"Harry." I replied.

"Now that's bloody royal!" Charlie hollered, and I let out a weak laugh.

"What d'ya do?" Joel asked.

"I'm a psychiatrist, but I haven't been on the job in a while." I shrugged in reply.

"What, ye been too busy loathin' in self-pity?" Charlie asked, as Joel laughed, and I sighed.

"Charlie, you have no idea how true your statement is."

"Mighty depressing, Harold, I must say." Joel stated, and I took another swig. This time it was larger than the first, and completely cancelled out the orchestra. I was euphoric.

I'm the type of guy I'm the best and then in the same sense the most god-awful person to be around, whilst completely hammered, I'm absolutely hilarious, until something clicks and I become a suicidal twit, and then I'm not as pleasant anymore. It didn't seem to faze Joel and Charlie much, I reckon they'd seen their share of drunken personalities and mine was probably not as bad as I put it out to be. They left at around three in the morning, and at that point I'd lost control over my legs, and any other body part for that matter. So the bartender, wanting to go up to wherever he resided, managed to get into my cell phone and call Insley. He picked up and I remember him cussing me out for calling at such an ungodly hour, I was giggling like an idiot.

"Err, Sir. Ye, I've got a guy here, and you're the last number he called an' I just thought I'd tall ya, that you should come an' fetch him." He said, and I put it upon myself to get up and show that I wasn't totally useless.

"I can escalate myself, sir!" I said, I think I meant escort, but I wasn't thinking then.

"Bloody hell," I heard Insley profaning under his breath, before speaking up, "where is he?"

The bartender gave Insley the address but it didn't faze me at all, I was too fascinated by this guy's beard.

"An' sir, please hurry up, your err, partner 'ere is getting touchy-feely." He said, and I heard Insley laughing as I poked the guy's nose.

"Don't worry, he's straight as they get." Insley assured him, but he wasn't budging.

"Tell that to me when he ain't making heart eyes at my beard." That's when he hung up and I broke into a fit of giggles. Also I vaguely remember me feeling up his beard, and being so absolutely fascinated with it.

"C'mon, Paul don't be fussy!" I pouted as he slung me over his shoulders. I shrieked in excitement, before having all the blood rush to my head and almost collapsing on the couch.

"Son, my names Dan." He said.

"Whoops!" I apologized, but laughed hysterically as soon as I saw him scowling at me.

"Paul, do whales fart?" I would ask, dead serious.

"I don't know." Bartender would say.

"What do you mean you don't know? Are you undermining a whale's ability to excrete gas? Goddamn, Paul, what's wrong with you! All whales deserve to fart freely!" I exclaimed, standing up quickly and wobbling around, "FREE FART RIGHTS FOR THE WHALES!"

"Oh, God." Bartender sighed, and caught me as I tripped over my own feet and burst into another fit of giggles.

"Paul." I asked.

"Dan." He said.

"Are you married?" I asked.

"No, lad, I'm not." He replied monotonous.

"Ever lost anyone?" I asked.

"Yeah, my mum died when I was younger." He said, shrugging.

"Well, you know what happened to me, oh God, Paul. My wife died the other day and I'm so screwed up I can't even see straight how do you even manage when a loved one passes?" Now I was crying again, I fell onto Dan's lap and he sighed as I started again to amuse myself with his beard.

This went on for half an hour until I started to fall asleep, and that's when Insley came.

"Ins!" I stood up, but almost toppled over again, he caught me.

"Harry, you reek of alcohol. Come on, we're going home." Insley said sternly, and I pouted.

"Don't wanna! I wanna stay here with Paul!" I protested like an unsatisfied child.

"He's been callin' me Paul all night, an' I keep tellin' him my names Dan." Bartender said.

"Sorry about him, he doesn't handle alcohol well, as you've noticed. Thanks for taking care of him, really. He can be a riot sometimes." Insley smiled apologetically.

"No problem, sir. Just make sure he gets home safe." Bartender smiled.

"No! Paul, don't leave me with this monster!" I screamed.

"Jesus Christ," Insley swore, as I fell to the floor, "why the bloody hell did I get stuck with you?"

"Paul! Don't leaaaave!" Bartender had already left and Insley was dragging me out of the place, I must admit I put up a pretty good fight. He stuffed me in the car, but I threw open the doors as soon as I felt like I was going to projectile vomit my internal organs up, and I did. Insley sighed, and handed me a breath mint as I finished.

"You're so mean to me, Ins!" I said.

"I just gave you a breath mint, H." He started the car, and I watched the pub disappear.

"GOODBYE PAUL I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, and I swear to God I heard a deep voice going, "FOR THE LAST BLOODY TIME MY NAME IS DAN!" We don't talk about that night much anymore.

The next morning I awoke and I did feel like I was dying. There was a note on the bedside table, I picked it up and read it.

harry,

you're a dimweed, okay? i think we've established you're impulsive and what you did last night was extensively dumb. i left you two things, one, some pills for the morning after, since i'm pretty sure you're going to wake up to a dub step beat drop in your head, and two, toothpaste, because let's face it, h, you're going to need it.

love,

ins.

p.s your kids are fine. :)

p.p.s it's monday, and i hope you know you've got an appointment with a patient at noon, and a house seeing with some agent at three.

Sighing, I forced myself out of bed. I knew I was at Insley's apartment. And when I walked out and saw a woman with bight red hair and fuzzy socks in the kitchen, I was bloody freaked out. I never knew my brother even had a girlfriend. Anyway, she turned around, and screamed and next thing I knew I was screaming.

"WHO ARE YOU?" She was defensively holding up the spatula.

"I'M HARRY, INSLEY'S BROTHER! WHO ARE YOU?" I asked, stepping back.

"I'M AMANDA, THE GIRLFRIEND HE NEVER BOTHERS TO MENTION." She replied.

"Bummer, well, sorry about the fright, love. But I've got to dash. Any chance you know what the time is?" I asked.

"Around eleven, I reckon." She replied, and I smiled as a thank you, grabbing a key off the table. It wasn't mine, I knew it, but I knew Insley wouldn't mind.

"It was a pleasure, but I've got to run, I've got a thing in half an hour and I still resemble something from the walking dead." That caused her to laugh, as I exited into his garage and pressed the unlock button, getting a response from a sleek silver car.

Harry Holt on 10:30 a.m:

Thanks for all the help, I'm hijacking your car!! :-)

Insley Aulte on 10:30 a.m:

Please remind me how I'm related to you??

AND WHY DO YOU ALWAYS PUT NOSES

ON YOUR SMILEYS? THAT'S CREEPY. :(

I smiled, and sent him a couple hearts, and a smiley face, and then drove out of his garage. I really felt terrible about last night, mostly since the terrible pounding in my head still hadn't quit it, and then I did something I hadn't done in quite some time. I stopped at that coffee shop, and he was still working there. I don't know why but I smiled, I suppose in a way I was grateful to have one constant factor in my life.

"Well, I'll be damned." He said as he noticed me walking in.

"Ah, yes Daniel, it's a pleasure seeing you as well." I replied, actually laughing.

"Shall I get you your usual, or has it changed since I last encountered you?" He smiled, as I walked closer.

"Right now, I'm recovering from a terrible hangover, anything you've got for that?" I asked.

"Iced coffee makes me feel better, but then again, a lot of people complain it makes them feel worse," he shrugged, still smiling, "shall I?"

"Rather not, I tend to fit in with the majority most of the time," I stated, and he nodded.

"Black coffee, two sugars then?" He replied.

"It would be lovely, Daniel." I answered, smiling.

"I don't really see you as the type to leave the house." He said whilst he was waiting for the coffee machine to do it's job.

"Well, you're right, I'm not. I guess something clicked, and I just decided, well I've lost everything I possibly care about, what's getting completely hammered going to do?" I sat down on one of the chairs in the little coffee shop as he brought a white cup up to me.

"Spectacular," he replied, sitting down, I didn't mind, I mean, the place was empty and I needed some company anyway, "so what's all this jazz about losing things?"

"Fancy pants here got married a couple years back, and well, she passed a week or so ago. The memorial was yesterday." I replied, and though it rolled off my tongue like water off a duck's back, I felt it, I felt it in the way that bloody lump made it's way back up my throat and the way it felt like my heart was contorting in three hundred different ways.

"Harsh," he said, "sorry for the loss."

"It's all right, I'm doing all right." I shrugged, taking a sip of the coffee.

"You sure, I mean, you look pretty knackered." He stated.

"Call me sleepless in Seattle. I haven't slept for a good week." I responded.

"That's well, interesting. You should probably stop drinking so much coffee." He responded sardonically.

"Ha-ha, Daniel, very funny." I mused, sighing.

I found myself thinking back to the days where I swore I hated this boy, and how judgemental I must've been. I never even bothered to ask anything about him.

After a little bit of silence, I asked, "Daniel, what are your ambitions?"

He went a notable red for some reason, "well, honestly. I don't know I've never had a dream."

"Not even once?" I asked, genuinely taken aback. We all had some sort of dream, something we wanted to do more than anything in the world.

"Yeah, honest." He replied, shrugging, the blush still remaining on his cheeks, "why do you ask?"

"I feel obligated to, I was really well, terrible to you a while ago." I admitted sheepishly.

"I understood why though." He answered warily.

Confused, I asked, "how?"

"I knew it from the beginning, you were confused and lonely. Tired of rejection, trust me, I've been there. You get pretty damn terrible." His smile returned and it was true what he was saying. Hell, I was confused and lonely, and I was angry. I was insecure.

"Never knew you were so wise." I said, blushing.

"Guess you never bothered to ask." He shrugged, taking my cup away.

"Sorry," I said.

"It's okay, I don't blame you." He smiled still, "can I get you a refill?"

"I'd like that." I replied, smiling.

Daniel ended up being a great lad; he liked drawing and probably wanted to be designing book covers if he weren't busy working at this coffee shop. He loved electro music, and was a severe caffeine addict. He liked boys, and that's why I think he liked me so much. Honestly though, I didn't care if he liked boys, girls, both, or even neither, it never mattered to me. I didn't mind whom I was friends with because if I liked them, and they liked me in a friendly manner, it didn't matter what they believed in, what they liked, or any of that jazz. Sylvester used to say to live and let live, it doesn't matter who you are, as long as you respect what others stand for, I'm sure they'll respect what you stand for. He helped me make my decision of moving, I was finally going to get out of this trap. I had decided on moving to Paris, for two reasons, my French was strong and absolutely no one would know me there. I could start over, meet new people, have new friends, and just get away from the entire buzz here in Britain.

A/N:

#watchharrylosehismind ;-)