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Arlo sits in the empty house he grew up in, staring at the chair his mum used to sit in. He knew she'd drink herself to death eventually but he never thought it would be the day of his sisters wedding. He didn't tell Leah until they left that evening and she tried to console him, but what about? She wasn't a good mother, she didn't want him. Her death means nothing to Arlo.

Just a pain in the ass since he's now stuck at home until he's sorted all her shit.

Arlo feels his phone ring and he straightens up, digging it out of his pocket. "Ello?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Bella says sadly.

"Tell you-oh. It was your wedding day, it wasn't news that was suitable to share that day." He shrugs, looking at the grey wallpaper. "How's the honeymoon?"

"It's good. Hot." Bella says. "I didn't call to talk about me. How are you?"

"I'm fine. Its been a week and I don't feel any different, she's gone so thats that. She was useless anyway." He says as he picks at his hoodie string. "Stuck in Doncaster until I can sell her house though."

"Didn't Leah come?" Bella frowns.

"Wasn't allowed thanks to charming ole Sam." Arlo says bitterly. "She doesn't have a passport anyway. It's fine, shouldn't be too much longer."

"Okay... I'll call you in a couple days, kay? See how you are." She promises.

"Cheers. Go have fun, okay? Bye." He says, hanging up. He sighs and looks around, dragging himself off the couch and to the kitchen. The counters are littered with bottles - standard - and theres one glass on the side as she always would have had it. He grabs it and opens the first bottle he grabs. He pours a small amount into the glass and raises it. "Cheers mum." He mutters, downing the whiskey. He pours another and takes that and the bottle upstairs to his old room.

He's already sorted half the stuff out before he'd left but now he's got to clear the rest. He sits on the floor and lights a cigarette, rummaging in some old boxes under his bed. Most of it is old song books, old school work he never finished. He sorts most of it out into bin bags to throw away. He groans as his phone rings again.

"Ello?"

"Arloooooooooo!"

He laughs and stands. "Ronnieeeeeee!" He screams back.

Ronnie laughs. "How are ya brutha? Heard you're back."

"I am for a bit yeah." He nods, slowly pacing his room. "Haven't missed much, ave I?"

"Oh mate, you won't believe it." Ronnie laughs. "Come down the Lions Head, me and the lads are heading there now."

"Fair one, I'll come now." He says, hanging up. He grabs his hoodie and runs out, grabbing his keys and wallet too. He heads out and walks down the street, turns left, right and right before he comes to the familiar pub. While he was never old enough to legally drink there when he last came, he grew up sat at these tables, in the gardens and around the area.

"Arloooooo!" A group of guys shout as he walks in.

Arlo grins. "Lads!"

The moment he sits a beer is thrust at him, conversations immediately turning to his new life. He dodges most of them and gets the conversation to what he's missed. "Fuck off!" He laughs. "You got Nelly Davis preggo?" He laughs more. "Mate, she was the it girl. How did you manage that?"

"Easy." Ronnie smirks. "She likes it freaky."

Arlo laughs, already having lost track of what he's drunk. But he's having fun - for the first time in a while.

rebel | leah clearwaterWhere stories live. Discover now