murder house / h.s

fourty two.

Avery's POV

About a week after that eventful day, Harry came clean. He finally tweeted for the first time in a couple of months, and the whole world responded just as I thought they would. With chaos, and then with understanding. What was more surprising than that was the fact that Murder House had made me so well known that my Twitter had become official and confirmed. I even got the fancy check mark next to it, which made me feel important. I liked having that feeling.

Fortunately, Mom got out of her little funk. Turns out it was just the flu, and she was known for being able to tackle things like that. It had me scared at first; knowing that we had lost Spencer so quickly and Dad stopped showing up around the house all at once. Even Carmen dropped by less, since she was staying at the dorms now. But something told me Mom knew about Dad's mysterious disappearance, though I never did ask.

Harry and I sat in the middle of a coffee shop, our seats in a booth by the window. Harry was on his phone, and I was quickly scrawling down words faster than I could even think of in my new journal. Harry gazed up at me, a look of admiration in his eyes.

"What are you writing, darling?" he asked, his voice so delicate I felt like I could have fainted at the sound of it. He locked his phone and set it down, giving me his undivided attention. I loved it when he did that, and he knew it.

Knowing that I had his full attention, I closed the journal and locked it shut. It was neat that it came with a lock and a key, which was adorned around my neck as a charm on a bracelet.

"I'm writing a book." I told, and fixed it so that the kink in my necklace was out of view. Harry smiled at me and took a sip of his coffee.

"What's it about?"

"Us." I said, so simple that the word was gone before I could even process it. It seemed like one second I was thinking it, and the next it was just a memory like any other. It had a certain hint of bliss to it, and just saying it made me lean back. "Us." I repeated, "Its a narrative about everything we've been through."

Harry leaned in, interested at once. He was so fascinated with the mere thought of this book that he didn't even take the expected sip of coffee. "Did you include the part about me getting bashed upside the head?" he asked, which made me smile. It was odd that such a thing lifted my spirits, but it did.

"Yes, Harry." I sighed amusingly. "I included the part about you getting hit upside the head. And the part about me saving your sorry ass."

Harry raised an eyebrow with a slight grin. "What about the part where I saved yours? Does the name Ivy ring a bell? Crossbow?"

I laughed at his playful banter, giving him the opportunity to have a slight taste of his drink. I looked down at my half eaten bagel, but when I looked up at Harry it was obvious which one I preferred to invest my time in.

"It's written in chapters." I said, changing the topic. Luckily, Harry hardly noticed and played along. I loved how he did that; even though sometimes he pretended instead of actually believing it.

"How many?" he asked.

"Well, so far, I have forty two." I said carefully. "But our story isn't finished yet, is it?"

Harry didn't say a thing, but that dimpled smile he gave me spoke a thousand words. Of course, he finished his coffee and I finished the forty-second chapter, before we headed out of the coffee shop and into the streets of Louisville.

"It's supposed to snow." I said once I looked at the clouds. Harry just glanced at me and smiled.

"So soon?" he asked. "It's not even fall."